Emerald

Emerald Talisman

Chapter 1 - The Caravan Arrives

500 years after the founding of Breyconland

“Sheralie, if you are reading a book again, so help me…”

Kattie’s nasally voice echoed through the grate on the garret door, spiking into Sheralie’s ears and dragging her back into the present. She slipped the novel back into its hiding place under the dusty cover on her grandmother’s old trunk. Her stepmother never came within three feet of the trunk. Even someone like Kattie, who was as dry of magick as a man, could sense the protective ward around it.

“Sheralie!” Kattie screeched again. “Get down here, now! The caravan is returning today, and I need you to run to the market!”

The caravan was back already? A week early? Sheralie leaped up from the dusty board floor, shook out her skirt, and slipped out of the garret door. She hurried down the steps, almost tempted to jump the last four like she used to.

At twelve she was really too old to wait at the front window with her nose pressed against the pane for the first glimpse of her father. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t visit the market nearest the main square, not far from her father's warehouse.

At the landing to the third floor she grabbed the top of the wooden post and swung herself around to the next set of steps, her fingers trailing green sparkles along the railing. When she reached the second-floor landing, where Kattie stood with folded arms and a tapping foot, she stopped abruptly, leaving a shower of sparks behind her.

Kattie narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “What is wrong with you, girl? Do you want to burn the house down?”

“Sorry, Kattie,” Sheralie said, though she still couldn’t suppress her excitement. A few more green sparkles drifted upward, and Kattie frowned at her. For a year now the power had been growing, and Sheralie had no idea what to do with it. When she was very angry or excited or upset, the magick just seemed to seep out, and she couldn’t stop it. None of the neighborhood girls her age had this problem. Of course, all the girls her age with anything more than a trickle of magick were already enrolled in private schools, learning to control it and do useful stuff, but Kattie wouldn’t hear of it in Sheralie’s case. When Sheralie asked, Kattie always protested that she needed her company at home.

Needed a scullery maid, more like. Sheralie hauled a lot of water and scrubbed a lot of pots and cleaned to the point that she could dust and sweep in her sleep.

"Do you want people to think you're a demon?" Kattie grimaced. "Between your looks and that green pollution…"

Sheralie's looks? She frowned. She was skinny and short, true, but she had unusual red hair that nearly reached her waist and bright blue eyes. Her friends said she would likely be a striking woman when she grew up, like her mother was. As for the demon part, she brushed that aside with barely a second thought.  The other families on their middle-class street were proud of their magick-bearing daughters. It was a point of pride to have one at school. With enough luck, an enchanter with a decent education might be chosen to go to the Queen’s Academy in Stramere, where she would learn to make the lambent globes that made Stramere famous the world through, for all they were a small country surrounded by much larger neighbors.

But of course Kattie didn’t care about that. As far as she was concerned Sheralie’s magick was something to be ashamed of. Grandmother told Sheralie that Kattie’s home country of Estril used to fear enchanters and put them to death. Even though Kattie had married Sheralie’s father and moved with them to Bridgewich, the border town with the largest river crossing to Estril, she hadn’t grown to like magick any more than she had before. Sometimes, when Kattie was particularly harsh, Sheralie wondered if her stepmother wished to put her to death.

However, today nothing could ruin Sheralie’s mood for long. Not even Kattie. Her father would be home, after being gone for four long months!

She reached the market as fast as she could scamper along the streets, darting among the shoppers and looking for the items on Kattie’s list. She needed sugar for a homecoming cake, a mess of greens (whatever she could find that was fresh), and some charmed orris lineament. She grabbed the sugar and greens first and then stopped at the apothecary shop for the lineament. She loved the apothecary— it was creepy and filled with rustling creatures of all kinds. Some enchanters made their own home remedies, and the apothecary also sold some of the most used lizards, frogs, and insects. Kattie, of course, would rather eat frogs than use them for charms, even if she could.

After several minutes of peering at various yellowed-skinned salamanders and slick green tree frogs, Sheralie finally went to the counter and asked for some of Lydia’s Miracle Muscle-Ease Lineament. Her father came home from his trade trips sore and bruised, with muscles stiff from weeks of sleeping on the ground. He practically swore by Lydia’s Miracle, and Sheralie knew Kattie would never buy such tainted stuff for him. It would be her coming home present to her father. She still had a little pocket money she had earned by sitting up with Madam Milandy’s twins several nights so the poor mother could get some sleep for once.

The lineament added to her basket, she made one final stop, staring in the display window at Zinna’s Confectionary. She told herself that she didn’t want anything from the bakery; after all, Kattie was making a homecoming cake and even Sheralie would get a little sliver of it, but she couldn’t help staring at the amazing concoctions. Delicate pastry trumpets filled with shimmering purple jelly that emitted the faintest sound of music. Towering marshmallow fluff giants fighting a mock battle in the corner. A round display turning the exotic starberries from far away Lamalo, drizzled in chocolate. And they were still fresh!

The baker was a Talented enchanter who channeled her magick into her food. Only the wealthiest in Bridgewich could afford her creations— but Sheralie couldn’t help but stop and drool over them every time she came to the market. With a sigh of regret, Sheralie left the window and continued on, swinging her basket. Someday she would go to school and learn how to channel her magick. She would become a master enchanter in her own right and work wonders with sugar and flour and chocolate!

Her daydreams about her future glory as a baker, lavishing such amazing treats on her father that he couldn’t fail to be proud of her, carried her all the way to the public square. The warehouse district was only a few blocks farther, and she knew her father would stop at the courthouse and read the notices after his trade haul was safely stored in his small, rented warehouse. Sheralie found a pretty good seat for herself in the shade outside the courthouse and settled in to watch the people pass by. There were so many at this time of day. Lawyers in their ugly brown suits, traders in their dusty, travel-stained long coats, well-dressed matriarchs checking the boards of posted notices, a beggar or two hoping to gain a few coppers from harassed mothers herding their children.

Suddenly, a horse trotted into the square and the people scattered away from it. Normally horses were never allowed in the public square, but the rider was dressed in a crisp maroon uniform with tan pants and glossy, knee-high boots.

A Queen’s Messenger! Sheralie couldn’t believe her luck! She had heard of them, but never actually seen one. The man tied his horse to the almost unused hoop at the town hall across the square from where Sheralie sat and strode in. Word began to spread like wildfire, and people started to gather around the town hall. An official message from the queen was a rare occurrence, and one that couldn’t be ignored. Sheralie climbed to her feet on top of the crate, hoping to see better. Surely the mayor would come out for this one! She did, followed by the Queen’s Messenger. She stood next to the charmed speaking trumpet attached to a post near the town hall and waited for the murmurs of the crowd to die down.

The mayor, a tall, beefy woman in a smart blue skirt with a pleated white blouse, raised her hands.

“To all Bridgewich, an order by the hand of Queen Aston!” Her magick-enhanced voice echoed through the square, and Sheralie winced, almost tempted to cover her ears. All the murmuring and excited whispers died down.

“All girls between ages eight and fifteen residing in Bridgewich will present themselves at the courthouse next Auresday at high noon for the testing and selection for the Queen’s Academy. No girls will be exempt from the testing. Girls unable to be physically present at the courthouse must submit a request for alternate examination. The penalty for non-testing is a one-year term of mandatory service on the Queen’s Highway, served by said girl’s guardian.”

A royal testing! With the possibility of selection for the Queen’s Academy! Sheralie couldn’t believe her ears. What luck! Each year the local Matron of Magick tested girls for their inborn magick ability, but it was only to help guardians find the right kind of school to apply to on behalf of their daughters or granddaughters. Her grandmother had refused to have Sheralie tested, and Kattie, disgusted by the very thought of magick, would never consider it either.

But this— this was mandatory! Kattie would have to let Sheralie get tested, or she would spend a year laboring on the construction of the Queen’s Highway— and everyone knew how horribly dangerous that was. Many who served there never returned.

Sheralie wasn’t the only one excited by the news of a Royal Testing for Bridgewich. Even after the mayor's messengers left to read the announcement in other areas of the town, people swarmed around the official proclamation posted prominently on the courthouse board kept for royal proclamations. Clearly word spread quickly through the nearby streets, and soon the square was filled with matriarchs speculating about what girls had a chance of being selected, and which girls would need to request exemptions. By the time her father marched into the square, his stride firm and long even though he had to be worn out after such a long trip, he was unable to get anywhere near the announcement board. He stopped in consternation, and Sheralie slipped down off her crate and wormed her way through the knots of gossiping townspeople. She reached her father’s side just as he gave up on the public notices and started for the far edge of the square.

“Papa!” she gasped.

He startled and looked down at her.

“Sheralie! What are you doing here?” Then he spotted the basket on her arm with a frown. “Kattie sent you to the market alone?”

She stiffened in indignation. “I’m not a baby anymore, Papa. I can go to the market by myself.”

Her father didn’t say anything, but the lines on his forehead creased deeper. He took her empty arm and steered her around a group of young girls animatedly discussing the testing.

“Something seems to have everyone in uproar,” he observed, with another scan of the busy square.

“Oh, Papa!” Sheralie exclaimed. “You will never guess the news! A Queen’s Messenger arrived just before you did!”

Her father jerked back in the direction of the courthouse but of course the messenger and his horse were long gone, probably already comfortably installed in an inn and a stable.

“What was the proclamation?” he asked warily. Sheralie hesitated for a moment. Of course she was very excited herself, but her father did not like to hear any talk of royalty, especially the queen. He never spoke out against her, he was no traitor, but his eyes would darken and he would grow very silent any time Kattie and her guests mentioned her. Still, her father needed to know, especially since it particularly involved Sheralie.

“There is to be a testing and selection for the Queen’s Academy in three days,” Sheralie said, anxiously watching her father’s face. “For all girls ages eight to fifteen.”

Her father froze mid-step.

“I guess I’ll need to go,” she said, trying to hide her own excitement. But the magick, responding to her emotion, leaked green sparkles from her fingertips. Her father spotted it, and he started walking again. Yet he still didn’t say anything.

It was a very awkward walk home— Sheralie tried to ask her father about his trip, but his answers— when he bothered to answer at all— were curt. Sheralie wondered anxiously why he was so upset about it. It was only a royal testing. Was he mad at her about it because she was excited? He didn’t want her to leave? Or was he starting to think like Kattie, that magick was an evil curse?

Maybe it was because of Grandmother. Sheralie swallowed. Her grandmother had died two years before. Sheralie’s earliest memories were of a strong-willed woman who never let Kattie boss Sheralie and taught Sheralie about the different types of enchanters. But the last few years of her life she had grown more and more unstable. She was constantly surrounded by a cloud of sparkles that danced off each other and made random catastrophes happen all around. She lost control of her mind as well as her magick, raving about things no one could see (traitors and curses and prophecies and bloodstones) and erupting with uncontrolled magick, causing dinner to burn and dust to fly into the air and visitors to trip on the entry stairs.

Sheralie didn’t dare ask her father about this. But she wondered— if she didn’t learn to control her own magick, would she end up like Grandmother one day?

When they reached the house, her father didn’t even pause before he stomped up the front steps and opened the front door. This, more than everything else, worried her— always before, on returning from a trip, her father had taken a moment before entering the house to give Sheralie a present from his trip— something small, but always something unusual from his travels, something just for her. This time, he might as well be returning from a visit to the market, rather than a four-month trading trip to Estril.

Trying valiantly to swallow the hurt, she hurried up the steps after him and slipped in the door, shutting it behind her. Her father bypassed his study and the staircase that led up to his room and instead headed straight down the hall to where Kattie was buried in dinner preparations in the kitchen. Another odd thing. Her father never intruded on Kattie’s domain. He kept to the study and his room, only venturing into the dining and sitting rooms in the evening.

Sheralie trailed after him, her stomach flopping with a growing, unnamed dread. What was wrong with her father?

He pushed his way through the kitchen door, causing Kattie to shriek in surprise. “Lane!”

“Did you hear the proclamation?” he said without preamble.

“What proclamation?” she asked, confused. Her father merely shook his head. Sheralie stood forgotten, still in the hallway, able to see her father through the half-open kitchen door and hear every word as clearly as if she were standing there beside him.

“I’m leaving again tonight,” he said. “Please make me some travel rations— enough for both of us.”

“Tonight!” exclaimed Kattie in horror. “But I’m planning a homecoming dinner and the Morosinis are already invited, and…” Her voice trailed off. “For both of us? You want me to come with you?” she asked hopefully.

“No, I meant Sheralie. I am taking her to the capital.”

“The capital!”

The capital, thought Sheralie in shock. Why? What does my father need me in Stramere for? He rarely goes there, if ever, and he’s never taken me with him before!

“Lane, that is— that is simply— you can’t take her with you!” Kattie whined. “I need her here. Who will help with the housework? It is too much for me alone.”

“Hire a scullery maid,” her father said indifferently. “It is high time Sheralie attended school. I chose a school in Stramere for her during last year's trip— she will start the term in a week.”

There was more stunned silence. Sheralie herself forgot to breathe. Her father was sending her to school! She had wanted exactly that for more than a year! But why in the capital? It was pleasant to daydream about getting chosen for the Queen’s Academy, but Sheralie didn’t really want to be chosen. Bridgewich was home, and it had a least a dozen good schools for training enchanters.

If she went to Stramere, she couldn’t live at home. Her father was sending her to boarding school?

Kattie had obviously come to the same conclusions. “We can’t afford boarding school!” she protested. “And I’m not sure there’s any need to spend any money training her at all. Best if it dies out.”

“I’ve already made the decision, Kattie. She’s my daughter.”

Kattie laughed, a bitter, angry laugh. “Yes, your daughter, but who nursed her? Who kept her fed and warm and cared for while she was still an infant? Not you! Not that crazy old demon hag either! Me! And now you want to take her away from me, without so much as a by-your-leave.”

This was followed by another silence. Her father disappeared from her view, and Sheralie almost padded quietly into the room, so intent on hearing the rest of the conversation that it didn’t occur to her that her father and Kattie would not take well to an interruption.

“Kattie. I am grateful for all that you did for her, but she is no longer a baby.”

“But Lane…” Kattie’s voice rose in a whine. “You would take her from me? The only woman who cares about her?”

Sheralie huffed. As if Kattie actually cared. But she would never let her father know that, and the few times that Sheralie had tried to tell him how Kattie treated her when he was gone, he had never believed her.

He always chose to believe Kattie. Always.

“It is time for her to grow up,” her father finally said, his voice muffled. “I am sorry. But I am taking her tonight. It will be one less thing you have to worry about. When I return we will have much more time with each other, just the two of us.”

Sheralie sucked in her breath. Her father wanted to get rid of her? So he could have more time with Kattie? Why would he do that?

She turned and fled back down the hallway, up three flights of stairs and into her room as quickly as she could manage.

When Kattie knocked on her door ten minutes later, Sheralie suddenly remembered the basket of food and the lineament she bought for her father. Where had she left them? Kattie was going to be furious with her!

But when Kattie swung the door open, she seemed more confused than enraged. “There you are! I thought you would come into the kitchen and help.”

“I’m sorry, Kattie, I meant to but…”

“Never mind all that. Go up into the garret and get the small black traveling trunk. Pack four of your best dresses, two nightdresses, and all of your underclothing. Your father is taking you to a boarding school in Stramere, and you leave tonight.”

It was just as shocking listening to Kattie say it in her matter-of-fact tone as it was when she overheard her father say it. It was so sudden. When Lia Gottle was sent to boarding school the year before her mother spent two months preparing— ordering new clothes, gathering the required supplies for the school, and then cooking up a storm of goodies for Lia to take with her on the long trip to the capital. But her father was going to whisk her away with no new clothes, no supplies, and no time to say goodbye to any of her friends?

No time to spend any time with him, after his long trading trip?

It was unbelievable.

Yet that was exactly what happened. Sheralie had barely finished carefully packing a couple of her most prized possession into the few remaining crannies of the traveling trunk— one of her favorite penny novels, her embossed leather journal (her last birthday gift from her grandmother), a miniature portrait of her long-dead mother, the tiny bright yellow stuffed canary that was charmed to sing in special moments (a homecoming gift from her father)— when Kattie banged on the door and shouted that Sheralie needed to come down at once with her cloak and her gloves. Sheralie did so, and Kattie pointed her into the kitchen, where Sheralie found a small supper of bread and milk, with a single apple for dessert. While Sheralie ate her bread and tried not to think of the rich homecoming cake she would miss, Kattie hastily patched a long tear in the bottom of Sheralie’s cloak. Before Sheralie finished her apple, her father appeared at the door.

“It’s time. The hired cart is here. I sent the driver upstairs for her trunk. Is there anything else she’ll need?”

“I don’t know,” Kattie said dubiously. “I suppose you’ll have to ask her headmistress.”

Her father nodded, and then gestured to Sheralie. “Go wait in the cart. I’ll be out in a moment.”

Kattie didn’t even say goodbye. Sheralie tried not to let it bother her. She knew her stepmother hated her. Shocked though Kattie was by this sudden departure, she would probably be relieved.

But Sheralie’s father was looking forward to it too! Just so he could spend more time with Kattie!

Sheralie fled from the kitchen before the tears could come.