Aveline's Price

 

By Karen Wester Newton

 

Aveline held her breath.  The chipmunk was so close she could smell his faint, woodsy odor.

"Aaaah-veh-line!" a voice called.

The chipmunk darted away—so quick it was like magic.  One second he stood on the fallen tree and the next he had disappeared.  Aveline scrambled to her feet, muttering a curse under her breath, entreating the God of Fate to concoct an unpleasant surprise for her little sister.  What did the little tagalong want now?  "I'm here, Lydie."

Her younger sister burst from between two nearby whortleberry bushes. "Ma wants you to come home right away."

Aveline frowned.  She had risen early to do her chores just so she could have a little time alone in the woods.  "Why?"

Lydie lifted her shoulders in a shrug.  "She didn't say.  She went to town to sell the extra eggs and came back running.  She sent me to find you."

Ma ran from town?  Ma never ran.  Aveline trotted through the meadow, passed her two eldest brothers who were tending the sheep, then lifted her skirts to jump the stream and break into a run.

 "Wait for me," Lydie called from behind her.

Aveline didn't slow down until she came in sight of the tiny stone house nestled in the lee of the nearby cliffs.  Chickens clucked and scratched in the yard, old Cecil the dog dozed in the sun at the end of his chain, and the ragged scarecrow stood on his pole guarding the neat rows of vegetables that Aveline had spent the morning hoeing. Everything looked as usual.

Then her mother stood in the doorway, a bundle under one arm and the other hand shading her eyes from the sun.  "Aveline?"

Just as Lydie caught up to her, Aveline put on a burst of speed and raced through the yard, raising a small cloud of dust as she ran.  "I'm here, Ma."  She stopped in front of the house, panting, and looked her mother over.

Ma wore her good dress of brown wool that she always wore to town.  She had her bonnet on, and the bundle she carried looked suspiciously like Aveline's winter shawl tied around something lumpy. What was she doing with Aveline’s winter shawl when it was only midsummer?  As Aveline got closer, she noted her mother’s scent held a peculiar mixture of emotions—fear, excitement, triumph, and sorrow.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

"Nothing," Ma said, holding out her free hand.  “Come along with me to town.”

Aveline stared.  "To town?"  She almost never went to town.  Her brothers did occasionally, to take something to the smith's to be fixed or to fetch something her father wanted, but the girls rarely got to go. Likely Da was in town now, drinking up the quarter-graz her mother had earned selling eggs and then tried to hide under the hearth stones.  Ma still had the bruise Da had given her when he slapped her.  He might give her another when he came home, if he was still angry enough. 

Da sometimes took Aveline to nearby farms, of course, so that the farmers would pay for Aveline to tell them when to plant or where to dig their wells.  But it was always Da who took her, never Ma.  "Is something wrong with Da?" Aveline asked.

"No."  Her mother's mouth tightened into a straight line.  "Nothing more than usual."  She tugged on Aveline’s hand.  “Let’s go.”

“Why can’t I go to town?”  Even short of breath, Lydie sounded petulant.  “Why does Aveline get to go?”

Ma’s face got an odd look, almost like she was going to cry.  “Because Aveline can smell the rain coming.”

Lydie fidgeted and stuck out her lower lip.  “That just means she has fey blood.  It’s nothing to be proud of.”  She twisted her face into a scowl.   “Old Berthe says it means she’ll grow up to be a witch.”

“Hush!”  Ma sounded angry.  “Don’t you talk that way about your sister.”

“I want to go to town, too.”  Lydie let her lower lip droop, as if she were about to cry.  Her tricks had even worked on Da before he took to drink.

Ma let out an exasperated sound, half a snort, half a sigh.  “Come along, then.”

Aveline’s eldest sister Esme came outside with the baby on one hip and waved as the three of them started for town.  Ma never looked back.  She walked so fast Aveline was hard pressed to keep up, and Lydie had to break into a trot.

The path was steep in places, and always rocky until they reached the wide dirt road into town.  A few minutes after that Aveline sighted the cluster of rooftops that made up the village of Helg.  She smelled the flowers on the offering stone as they passed the shrine to Osman, the God of Strength, and the wonderful aroma of bread baking as they passed the baker’s.  A thin plume of smoke rose from the smith’s forge, and Aveline heard the steady clang of the smith’s hammer as he worked.  An unfamiliar object in front of the smithy stood on three wheels, with the fourth wheel missing and a wooden keg holding up that corner.

Aveline stared at the strange sight. Smaller and sleeker than a tinker’s caravan, it had a high seat in the front, brass lanterns on the corners, a single brass step under the door, and glass windows on the sides.  The windows even had curtains.  Several children stood outside the smithy staring at the wondrous thing until the smith’s wife came out and shooed them all away.

“Coo!” Aveline said.  “Look, Ma!  Is that a carriage?”

“Yes,” her mother said.  “Now come along and don’t make any noise.”

“Why not?” Lydie asked as she trailed behind them.

“Never mind why not.”  Ma sounded scared more than angry.  She smelled scared, too.

They walked to the middle of town.  Several men stood in front of the tanner's. They were strangers, but they didn’t look like peddlers.  Four of them wore bright red coats and knee-high boots, and carried swords on their belts.  Were they soldiers?  The fifth man was older and wore a plain tweed coat.  He eyed Ma, Aveline, and Lydie, and then looked away as if he were bored.

“I’m going to check on the horses,” he said to the men in the red coats, and then he strode away toward the other end of town.

Who were these men? Was someone famous in Helg? Had Ma brought Aveline here to gape at some aristocrat?  Ma started toward the tavern but as they approached, she turned and headed behind the ramshackle building, tugging Aveline with her.

“Ma—“ Lydie began.

“Hush, or I’ll smack you!”

Aveline had never heard her mother speak so harshly.  She looked back and saw Lydie bite her lip.  Aveline offered her free hand, and Lydie clutched it tightly.

The three of them approached the back of the tavern where the door to the tavern owner’s private parlor stood propped open.

Ma paused in the doorway.  Maybe it was to give her eyes time to adjust to the dimmer light, or maybe she was plucking up courage.  Aveline couldn’t tell.  Finally, Ma stepped into the parlor dragging Aveline and Lydie behind her.

A bearded stranger sat at the table, the remains of a meal spread before him.

Not a meal, a feast.  Aveline surveyed the half-eaten chicken, the bread and cheese, the dishes of buttered turnips and carrots, the bowl of fresh, black whortleberries, and the tankard of beer.  Had one man truly had all this food for himself?

She looked at him and then gasped.  For a moment she thought he was on fire.  A golden glow radiated from him, as if he burned with an inner light.

“I do beg your pardon, sir,” Ma said, “but are you the master magician?”

He looked up from a book he was reading.  Aveline knew it was a book because she had seen one when a traveling priest came through the area to tend to Osman’s shrine.  This book looked much larger that the priest’s—thicker and older, with leather bindings edged in gold.  The strange man frowned, but he nodded.   “I am Renat of Grudusk, and I am indeed an adept.” 

Aveline wondered what an adept was.  The man’s accent rang oddly in her ears, the words sounding clipped off, as if he were in a hurry.  He didn’t sound like anyone she had ever heard, not even the peddlers who traveled through Helg from time to time.  She had no idea where Grudusk was.  The name didn’t sound like it was in the West Country.

The man glanced from Ma to Aveline, and his eyes went wide.  “By Osman!”

Ma pulled Aveline out from behind her.  “This is my little Aveline.  Nine years old she is, and can smell the rain coming three days before we even see the clouds.”

Renat looked Aveline up and down.  “I believe you.  Her aura is quite perceptible.” 

Aura?  What was an aura, and why had she never known she had one?  Aveline felt lost. 

Renat gave Ma a stern glance.  “Nine, you said?”

Ma ducked her head in a quick nod.  “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.”  He stood up and came around from behind the table.  “Why have you brought her to me?  You must already know she has fey blood.”

“I do.”  Ma took a deep breath.  “I was hoping you needed an apprentice.”

Aveline let out a gasp.  Magicians were beings to be feared.  How could Ma want her to become one?

Renat shook his head.  “My good woman, I’m not staying in this wretched village one minute longer than it takes to fix the axle on my carriage.  I hope to be off within the hour.”

“I know that.”

What?  Ma knew this stranger was leaving and still she had brought Aveline here to him.  What was she meaning to do?

Ma took a deep breath.  “If you were to need an apprentice, Aveline is available.”

Was she dreaming?  Was that it?  Surely this couldn’t really be happening.  Ma would never send her away to be a stranger’s apprentice—a magician’s apprentice.  Aveline took hold of the soft skin of her forearm and pinched hard.  It hurt, but she didn’t wake up in her own pallet as she had hoped.

Renat’s brows knit together in a forbidding glower.  His hair and beard were black streaked with gray, but his eyebrows were still all black.  He was tall enough that he looked down at Aveline from what seemed a great height.  “Why should I go to the expense of buying an apprentice?”

Buying?  Was Ma selling her?

“She’s as bright as a new-minted graz,” Ma said. “She remembers things, and her fey blood gets stronger every day.  Two years ago she couldn’t smell the rain at all, and now she’s as reliable as a rooster at dawn.”

Renat of Grudusk stared down at Aveline.  “Perhaps, but I have no need of an apprentice.”

“She’ll work hard.” Ma’s voice had an edge of desperation.  “She’s a strong girl, and she knows how to clean and mend.”

Renat stared at Aveline.  “Well, child, have you nothing to say for yourself?”

Aveline didn’t know what to say.  She didn’t want this man to think well of her and take her away, but she didn’t know what to say to make him think poorly of her, either.  She shook her head.

“Hmph.”  He cocked his head.  “It’s no matter.  I have no interest in you, in any event.”

The sharp odor of falsehood seeped from him as he said the words. 

“That’s a lie,” Aveline blurted out.

Ma gasped, and Lydie’s eyes got big, but Renat merely laughed.

“Very good,” he said.  Something in his voice made Aveline shiver.

“An apprentice?”  He looked Aveline up and down.  “I suppose it might be better to train her than to leave her loose in this wilderness with a gift such as hers.”  He stood for a long moment, and then he nodded at Ma.  “Very well, my good woman.  I shall buy your daughter for my apprentice.”

Ma let out a long ragged breath.  For a moment Aveline thought her mother might cry, but she didn’t.  She just stood there while Renat opened a leather purse and removed a single large golden coin. 

“This, I believe, is the price of an apprentice.”  He held the coin upright between his fingers, so that the silhouette of the King showed clearly.  Sunlight from the window gleamed on the golden surface.  “One zlote.”

Aveline had never seen a zlote or the King’s picture.  A zlote was worth a hundred graz, and few people in Helg had ever had that much money at once.  Her heart caught in her throat.  Ma was selling her to this stranger.  He would take her away, and she would never see her home again.

Just then a loud burst of laughter sounded through the door to the taproom.  Aveline recognized her father’s laugh.  Da was in the tavern, and that was why Ma was so scared.  Ma hadn’t told Da she planned to do this.  If Aveline were to cry out to him, Da would hear her.  He might come in here and tell this man who glowed like a lantern to go away and leave Aveline alone. 

Or would he?  If Da saw the golden zlote in Renat’s hand, he might want it even more than Ma did. 

Renat held the zlote out to Ma. 

She reached out her hand, but before she took it, she stared the magician in the face.  “You swear that you’ll teach her?  She’ll learn magic and be able to earn her own bread?”

“My good woman,” Renat said, “I have advised princes and kings.  I assure you I can manage to train one small apprentice.”

Aveline swallowed hard.  She wanted to beg her mother not to do this.  But when Ma made up her mind, that was that.  Even Da knew that.  Still, she could try.  “Ma,” she began.

Her mother thrust the bundle she carried at Aveline.  “Here are your clothes.  Be a good girl, Aveline.” 

Aveline grasped the bundle, her plea dying in her throat. 

Her mother leaned over and hugged her tightly.  She kissed Aveline’s cheek, and Aveline smelled the sharp odor of lye soap mingled with an even sharper sorrow.  “I love you, Aveline.  I hope you come back to me some day.”

“Ma,” Lydie said.  “What—“

“Say goodbye to your sister,” Ma said. 

Lydie stared at Aveline with her eyes wide.  She embraced Aveline, and Aveline hugged her back tightly.  She might never see Lydie again, or her other sisters, or her brothers, or Da, or Cecil the dog. 

“Goodbye,” Lydie whispered.  She smelled of wild strawberries and fear.

“Goodbye, Lydie.”  The words caught in Aveline’s throat, but she got them out.

Ma gave her one last haunted look, took Lydie by the hand, and almost ran out the way she had come.

Aveline was alone with Renat of Grudusk.

The man looked at her for a moment, then pulled a chair out from the table.  “Sit down, girl.  Are you hungry?”

Aveline stared at the bounty on the table.  The chicken wasn’t even half eaten.  But a cold, hard feeling made her stomach too full for food.  She sank into the chair but shook her head.  Tears leaked from her eyes.  She wiped them away and fought the sobs that wanted to rise in her throat.

Renat pushed the chicken toward her.  “Eat something anyway.  We have a long ride ahead of us.”

Aveline made herself speak.  “Where—where do you live?”

“I have an estate not far from Klotile.”  He waved a hand toward the closed front door of the parlor. “It’s about ten or twelve days east of here.”

Twelve days.  Twelve days by carriage meant twenty days walking, at least.  Maybe more.  And Aveline had no idea of the way or even where Klotile was.

“Eat,” he ordered.

An apprentice had to obey; Aveline knew that.  She belonged to this man until she was sixteen.  She let her bundle fall to the floor, grasped the chicken leg, and wrenched it free from the carcass.  It tasted like ashes in her mouth, but she chewed and swallowed obediently.

Renat watched her finish the chicken leg.  By the time she was done, she felt better.  She put the bone on the platter and took up a piece of cheese.  It tasted better than the cheese Ma made, softer and sweeter.

Renat got up and moved to the corner of the room where several traveling cases stood piled up.  He turned his back to Aveline as he hunted through the pile.

Aveline stared at the open back door.  She could run fast for her age, and this man was old and probably feeble.  She slid from her chair and started for the door, stepping as quietly as she could.

“Helogas quinto heras hera cagh molasha!” Renat said the strange words quickly, in a loud, angry tone.

Aveline couldn’t move.  Or rather she could move, but so slowly that it did her no good.  In the time it took her to open her mouth to attempt a scream, Renat had crossed the room and grabbed her arm.   She tried to pull away, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her.

“Come back here, girl!”  The anger in his voice matched the hot ire Aveline smelled from him.

Her heart pounded.  What would he do?  After a few more seconds her limbs suddenly returned to normal just as Renat thrust her into the chair.

“That was a foolish thing to do.”  The magician frowned down at her.  “I hope you’re not stupid.  All the talent in the world won’t help you if you’re a simpleton.”

Aveline gasped with fear and indignation.  “I’m not at all stupid.”

“I hope not.”  Renat lifted the black drawstring bag he carried and set it on the table.

Aveline stared at it.  Every magician was said to carry a bag of tricks that he used to ensorcell people and things.  Aveline had heard stories of amazing and terrible magic, but no magicians had come to Helg since she was born.

“This is called a talisman bag,” Renat said. 

The fabric of the bag looked smoother and shinier than any Aveline had ever seen.  It had to be made of silk from faraway Karpania.  “What’s in it?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

He smiled, his anger dissipating.  “Charms and potions, mostly.”  He pulled out a small wooden box and opened it to display a row of small glass bottles.  “These are for magic but also for healing.”  He put that box back and took out a smaller box.  After he had flipped up the lid and poured some small items onto the tabletop, he held up a carved wooden disc the size of Aveline’s thumbnail.  “These are charms.  A magician can use them to do many things—make someone older or younger or even transfer spirits between two beings.”

Aveline stared at the collection.  “You can use all of these?” 

He smiled with a certain pride, as if her question would have insulted him if it hadn’t amused him, too.  “I rarely need to use such things anymore, except for this.”  He reached into the bag and pulled out a plain-looking stone, gray-brown with an oddly grained surface.  He held the stone out toward Aveline.

She couldn’t resist touching it.  Just as her finger brushed the surface, a peculiar tingle ran up her arm.

“Ah, ha!”  Renat sounded triumphant.  “I thought you would feel that.”

Aveline snatched her hand back.  “What does it do?”

He put the stone down on the table between them.  “It’s a gateway stone.  A magician can use it to open the door to Otherwhere.”

Aveline could feel her heart pounding.  It was all new and exciting, but also frightening.  “What is Otherwhere?”

Renat made an abrupt gesture, an abortive wave.  “It’s here, and it’s not here.  Otherwhere is like another room in wherever you are.  But it’s a room no one can enter without a gateway stone.”

“What is this other room like?”

He looked very solemn.  “It’s terrible.  It’s as if all the world’s fears and terrors reside in Otherwhere.  And yet, one is never hungry or thirsty there.”

It made no sense to Aveline.  How could somewhere be terrible if she would never be hungry there?  “I don’t understand.”

His smile held an odd complacency.  “You will very soon.  I need to punish you for trying to run away.”  He jerked his hand upwards.  “Stand up.”

Aveline got to her feet slowly, terror rising in her.  She wanted to run away again but she was too terrified to try.

The magician stood also.  He held his hands above the stone on the table, and then he began to chant, a much longer chant than the brief words that had frozen her into immobility.  Aveline didn’t understand any of it.  It sounded a little like the poems that traveling bards recited in return for a meal or a night’s shelter, except somehow hearing the ancient, unknowable words sent a thrill up her spine. 

She felt the tingling again, all over her body this time.  A growing sense of dread overcame her.  A loud boom like thunder rang in her ears and all at once, she felt herself being sucked into darkness—whirling and tumbling, as if she had fallen into a well. Finally she felt something solid under her feet.  Except the something was nothingness.  A thick gray fog all around her deepened here and there into blackness.  The air felt dank, and a rank odor pervaded it.

Aveline sobbed.  This must be Otherwhere.  Would Renat leave her here to die?  Had her mother sold her to someone so cruel that he would leave her in this terrible place? She shivered, aware that the warmth of midsummer had fled completely.  She wrapped her arms around herself but felt no warmth from her own body.  She wept in despair but no tears wet her cheeks. Surely she would die soon.

And then suddenly, she felt the pull of a whirlpool again, and heard another thunderous clap of pure sound.  Aveline found herself, shaking but still on her feet, in the private parlor of the tavern, standing in front of Renat of Grudusk.

The front door of the parlor burst open and a bunch of men spilled into the room.  The tavernkeeper was first, but Aveline saw Da in the crowd.  Like several of the others, he still held a tankard in one hand.  Aveline could smell beer from where she stood.

“Here now, sir,” the tavernkeeper said, “what’s happening?   Are you brewing a storm in my parlor?”

Renat turned toward him and frowned.  “I believed I hired this room for as long as I needed it, did I not?”

The tavernkeeper gave a quick glance around as if to reassure himself that the room was in good order and then bowed deeply.  He seemed afraid to look at Renat.  “Of course, sir!  Of course.”

Aveline called out in desperation.  “Help me, Da!”

Da pushed his way past the tavernkeeper.   “Hold on!  What’s my Aveline doing here?” Da’s tone was angry, even with his words so slurred.  He stepped closer, and the sour smell of beer grew stronger.  Da glared at Renat, his eyes glittering.  “What mischief is this man making with my daughter?”

Renat looked Da up and down and then gave Aveline a peculiar glance.  “No mischief,” he said, turning back to Da.  “I have just purchased Aveline as my apprentice.”

Da stared for a moment, then blinked.  He looked from Aveline to Renat.  She could see him studying Renat’s coat of fine-loomed wool, the white linen of his shirt, the well-made leather shoes.  “Purchased?”  Da roared.  “Where is the money?”

“I gave it to her mother.”  Renat nodded towards the open back door.  “She left a short while ago.”

“Osman’s balls!”  Da gave Aveline one brief look, threw his tankard to the floor, and dashed out the back door at a dead run.

Aveline watched him go with dread in her heart.  She had no hope now.

The tavernkeeper retrieved the tankard and mumbled an apology to Renat.  He herded all his other customers back into the taproom, bowed again, and shut the door.

“Well,” Renat said, “it’s to be hoped your father doesn’t murder your mother.”

“He won’t,” Aveline said.   “She’ll give him the zlote.” Her mouth had gone dry.  Was it from being in Otherwhere or from seeing her father run off and leave her without a word of farewell?

“Ah!”  Renat looked her up and down.  “And what did you make of Otherwhere?”

Aveline shivered.  “It’s a terrible place.”

Renat nodded.  “See that you remember it.”  He put the stone back into the black silk bag.  “I plan to use a stay in Otherwhere as a punishment whenever you misbehave.” 

Aveline swallowed hard at the thought of returning.  How long would he leave her there next time?

Renat put away the loose charms, pulled the strings of the talisman bag tight, and tied it shut.    “You should know that you’ll have to earn your keep.  My house is large and I have servants, but in addition to your studies and your magical duties, you’ll be expected to do whatever household chores are needed.”

Aveline nodded. She wasn’t afraid of hard work.  That was the least frightening part of being sold.  “Why do you glow like you’re on fire?”

He smiled reassurance.  “Fey blood gives one an aura, but only someone with fey blood can see it.”

Did that mean that she glowed to him, just as he glowed to her?  A soft scratching sound made her turn her head. 

“Come,” Renat called.

The stranger in the tweed coat stood in the doorway from the taproom.  “Beg pardon, Master Renat, but the carriage is fixed and the team is harnessed.  If you’re ready, I’ll collect the luggage and we can be on our way.”

“I’m quite ready.”  Renat stepped out of the way so that the man could reach the pile of traveling cases. 

Renat picked up the talisman bag and the book.  He walked through the doorway without looking back and without saying a word to Aveline.

Aveline glanced at the still open back door. She could get into this magician’s carriage and ride for twelve days to his house full of strange servants and doubtless strange ways.  If she did that, then one day she might learn how to use all the charms in the black silk bag, even the magic stone.  She would have a power that would make people fear her, perhaps as much as she feared Renat.

Or she could run out the back door and try to hide for a day or two, until Renat was gone from the West Country.  She took a deep breath.  She wanted to go home.  She wanted Lydie to follow her when she went into the woods, and Cecil’s wagging tail to greet her when she came back.  She wanted her father the way he used to be when she was small, smiling as he sang a song to baby Lydie in her cradle.  She wanted to fall asleep to the sound of the fire crackling in her own hearth and wake up to her mother’s voice singing as she cooked breakfast.

But sometimes one couldn’t have what one wanted—not everything one wanted.  Renat might have magical ways to track her.  And even if she got away from him, her parents might sell her again.  She had no control over her own destiny.  But she could one day, if she learned how to do magic.

Aveline picked up her bundle and ran through the still open parlor door, past the taproom full of men drinking and gossiping, past the tavernkeeper who still held open the front door of the tavern.

She ran onto the porch to find the carriage waiting, with four glossy black horses hitched to it and the red-coated strangers mounted on four more horses beside it.  Aveline caught her breath at the sight.  The curtains in the carriage windows had been tied back, and the man in the tweed coat held open the carriage door, revealing Renat inside, sitting in splendor on a well-cushioned leather seat.  Aveline put her foot on the brass step to climb in beside him.

She had made her choice.

© Karen Wester Newton