The oracle began to shake. He was standing up, and the stick-like legs beneath him could hardly support his weight. But stand he did. Tepi’s fluttering became even more agitated. Objor held one bony finger aloft, his sightless eyes beholding a horror that he seemed incapable of expressing. “The tinder has been touched to the fire! Soon, the whole universe will be ablaze!”
Objor collapsed, his robes billowing as his skeletal frame crumpled beneath him, and his wizened head hit the stone dais with a sickening crack.
1
The Dale was soaked with brilliant sunlight, and Ellis reclined among the wildflowers. The meadow was so green it almost hurt, and Ellis breathed a deep sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his best friend Kit spinning. She was performing a dance traditional among the maids in Everdale, especially when they were looking for mates or families to join. It struck him as odd that she was doing the dance with only him in attendance. It also struck him as odd—no, truly off—that she was dancing at all. Kit did not dance.
Yet here she was. She was also smiling—and Kit did not smile. She was smiling at him. She leaned down amid the wildflowers and touched her nose to his. And then she cocked her head at just the right angle for a kiss, and he felt the whisper brush of her lips—
“Oy! Slug-a-bed! So this is how the Royal Mail spends its money, eh?”
Ellis Sunderland felt a sharp pain in his side. He opened his eyes. The round face of Tubber Goodfoot was staring down at him. Tubber kicked him in the ribs. Then he did it again.
“By the Horn, Tubber! Stop it!” Ellis rolled away from Tubber as fast as he could.
“Wait until old Bracegirdle hears about this,” Tubber said. “Sleeping on the King’s farthing! You think that’s the kind of lazy beastie they’ll want for postmaster? ’Cause I don’t.” Tubber kicked him again.
“Tubber, I’ve nearly finished my route. What does it matter if I take a break? Everyone takes a break! You take yours in the pub.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, is it? Can’t take responsibility for your own failings, so you have to lash out at yer betters? Oh, that’s pretty, that is. Yes, sir, Bracegirdle will be very interested in all this.”
Ellis wanted the postmaster’s job so bad his back teeth ached. But Tubber wanted it, too, as did several other couriers in the Dale. Ellis was sure he’d do a better job than any of them, especially Tubber, whom he suspected was more interested in the prestige and the paycheck the position brought than actually improving Everdale’s postal system.
The sun was directly behind Tubber’s head, and Ellis had to squint to see him. Then his head blocked the sun completely and he was able to plainly see the look of satisfaction on his rival’s face. He was also able to look up the young man’s nostrils, straight into his sinus cavities. The sight made Ellis shudder and look away.
“Tubber, it was just a nap. All haffolk take naps. It might as well be required by law—along with second breakfast and tea-after-tea.”
“Aye, you can try telling that to Bracegirdle.” The young man looked around, then raised his boot to stomp Ellis in the head.
Ellis curled into a ball, issued a cry of protest, and raised his hands to ward off the blow.
But he needn’t have bothered. Before Tubber’s boot could come down on his face, the burly haffolk slapped at his neck. “Oy! What was that? Was that a wasp?”
He slapped again, this time at his head, and spun around wildly. Then he slowly backed away from Ellis.
Ellis lowered his arms and propped himself up on his elbows to peer over the wildflowers. Kittredge Cornfeather was striding toward them, slingshot armed and aimed—directly at Tubber’s head.
“That was the tiniest pebble. The next one will be a rock. And the next one will split your swiving head like a melon. So if you like your face the way it is, you just keep backin’ up.”
Kit was short, even among haffolk, standing about waist high to man or elf. But she was among the fiercest creatures Ellis had ever known. She’d never encountered a weapon she didn’t master, and Ellis was grateful that she counted him her friend.
They were friends—close friends—but he wished they were more. The images from the dream floated back to him, and he could almost feel the brush of her lips again—a feeling he had never experienced in waking life, nor likely ever would. Kit’s affections tended toward tomboys like herself, leaving Ellis nursing a heart continually pummeled by unrequited affections but nevertheless grateful for her friendship.
“Now you turn yourself around, Tubber Goodfoot, and you walk on back to the village. You try something like this again and you’ll be quarrying stone from your vacant head.”
Ellis glanced back at Tubber, and saw his hands raised. He also saw him walking backward in retreat. Then he turned and began to walk briskly in the direction of West Farthingdale, throwing the occasional scowl over his shoulder.
Kit waited until he had rejoined the road before lowering her slingshot.
“That was close,” Ellis said. “Have you ever thought of becoming sheriff?”
“I’d like that, I think. But you didn’t need me to save you,” Kit said, stowing her weapon in her shoulder bag. “One well-aimed kick in the groin would have solved your problems.”
“I…didn’t think of that.”
“Obviously not. You know what the problem with you is, Ellis?”
“Uh…I don’t make my bed?”
“You don’t make your bed?” She raised one eyebrow at him. “Your problem is that you are too nice. You got no fight in you.”
“That’s not true!” Ellis feigned offense.
“’Tis true. When are you going to stand up for yourself?”
“Why should I?” He smiled. “I have you.”
She narrowed her eyes. Then she rooted in her bag once more and pulled forth a wrapped bundle. “Mrs. Proudspindle’s cheese.” She tossed it to him. He caught it and unwrapped the rough cloth. Inside was a sweaty white cheese with red flakes in it. He sniffed at it. His eyes widened.
“It smells…wonderful.”
“Wait ’til you taste it. Those specks are cranberries.”
He tasted it, and instantly his mouth was awash in goodness. “That is the besht cheesh I ever ate,” he said with his mouth full.
“Uh-huh. We’ve got the afternoon route to finish. So on your feet, unless you fancy delivering your packages in the dark.”
Ellis stuffed the last bit of cheese into his cheek and stood. He slung his courier’s bag over his shoulder and adjusted it so it was balanced for the long walk ahead of them.
Kit put her hand on the hilt of her longdagger and set out.
Ellis loved being with Kit every day, but at times, it hurt to watch her. She didn’t dress like the other maids in the Dale. She wore the clothes of he-haffolk, but she avoided the gay colors favored by haffolk generally, preferring black, silver, and gray. This provided a striking look with her raven-black hair which hung just to her shoulders. Ellis sighed.
Kit was heading to the road with steady strides, and Ellis scrambled to catch up to her. They were at the edge of the meadow now, following a line of trees. Ellis shifted the weight of the bag and estimated that they had about two hours of work left to do.