Beaming at her, the centaur leaned against the counter. She was wearing a wide-brimmed purple hat on her human head and a white-with-purple-flowers dress draped over her horse torso and hindquarters. Her mane was braided with purple ribbon. “You took my advice.”
“It was good advice,” Kiela said. “Larran helped me build it.”
Eadie grinned at her. “Ahh, he did, did he?”
Kiela felt herself blush, though she wasn’t sure why. It was a perfectly neighborly thing for him to do, plus she’d paid him with a pine cone remedy. She wondered which tree he’d used it on, if it had worked for him, and what he had thought of it. And what he thought of her.
“Glad to hear he’s spending time with you,” Eadie said. “He’s had quite a lot of tragedy and loss in his life, that one has. Very bad, and none of it his fault. It would be good for him to find some happiness.”
She wasn’t certain that she was his happiness, and that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Eadie. Not so subtly, she changed the subject. “How did your remedy work?”
Her grin transformed into a genuine smile. “Beautifully! That’s why I’m here. I came to pay you what it’s worth to me.” She pulled out a pouch and spilled a heap of silver on the counter.
Kiela’s eyes widened. It was as much as she was paid in a month at the Great Library. Vastly more than any outer islander was paid in a month. “It isn’t worththatmuch.”
“It is to me,” Eadie said firmly. “My grandfather planted that tree when our family first arrived here. He’d fled his home island with my pregnant grandmother—there had been an uprising, a whole mess. It was a harrowing journey, according to the family stories. Half their boat was eaten by a sea serpent, and they capsized twice in storms, yet they still managed to drift their way to the shores of Caltrey. He’d brought the pit of a cherry from his home and planted it in the finest patch of soil he could find, his way of claiming Caltrey as our new home. By the time I was born, it was a fine tree, producing fistfuls of fruit every summer, and he babied it like it was one of the family. He’d convince every traveling sorcerer to come and cast strength spells on it so it would survive the winters. He passed away before the sorcerers quit coming to Caltrey, and so he didn’t have to see his beloved cherry tree fall prey to the new string of magic storms. It would have broken his heart. It broke mine seeing the tree dying. It felt like losing him all over again. But you . . . you gave the tree back to me. You gave me back my grandfather’s soul, and that’s worth all the silver in the world.”
Kiela felt tears pricking her eyes. “I’ll take three pieces of silver. You have to keep the rest.”
“Five pieces. You shouldn’t argue with a woman with hooves.”
Below, Caz bumped against Kiela’s ankle. “Say yes.”
“Five, okay,” Kiela said.
“And I’d also like to buy more.”
She thought of the merbaby she’d seen—he had brought them luck.This shop is going to work. We’re making a life for us.“We’re currently out, but we’ll be making more. If you’d like to stop by tomorrow, I should have them ready. Or I could bring a few to you in town after I finish the next batch of jam. I’m planning to stop by the bakery later this afternoon. Will you be there?”
“That would be perfect. I’ll prepay, and you can bring me five more this afternoon.” Leaving a smaller but still impressive stack of silver on the counter, the centaur trotted away from the shop and back into the greenery.
“I love it here,” Caz said fervently.
In high spirits, Kiela headed out after she’d finished a batch of blueberry jam and she and Caz had made a dozen more pine cones. She took two jars of jam (one for Bryn and one for Larran), as well as the five remedies for Eadie.
Kiela sang as she walked down the trail through the greenery. She knew she wasn’t quite in tune, but the birds didn’t seem to mind. One of them she recognized: a bird with red feathers and a tail of white apple blossoms. It flew above her, singing joyfully. She wondered what would happen if the blossom-bird decided to follow her into town. Would anyone guess he was supposed to be an apple tree? Would they suspect she was responsible?
She decided not to worry about that. It was a beautiful afternoon, the bird seemed happy, and she was in a wonderful mood. As she stepped out of the greenery, Kiela inhaled the sea breeze. Ahead of her the sky was a lovely quilt of purple-and-blue clouds, and the sea was dancing with white waves, quite lively.
She gripped the railing firmly as she made her way down the stairs—she was happy, but not giddy enough to be careless, and falling down the cliff would put an end to her excellent day quite rapidly, especially since the wind seemed extra-enthusiastic today. It danced around her as if it wanted her to waltz with it, never mind gravity. Holding on tight, she made it to the bottom safely enough.
Glancing toward Larran’s house, Kiela scanned the beach and the jetty for the herder. She spotted him out on the waves, riding one of his merhorses. Oddly, there were no boats out on the water beyond him—perhaps the herd had already finished helping the fisherfolk for the day? It seemed early for that to be done.Bakery first, then Larran’s house,she decided. Maybe he’d be back to shore by then.
She turned toward the village and walked into town. It looked . . . She couldn’t put her finger on what was different at first, but then she began to notice details: there were no carts or wheelbarrows or anything in the streets, the flower boxes were empty of pots, and shutters were pulled closed over the windows. Additionally, she heard a steady bell ringing in the harbor. It wasn’t marking out the time, and it didn’t cease.
Seagulls circled overhead, far more of them than she’d seen before—an uncomfortable number of them, in fact. Perhaps the fishing boats had docked, and the gulls wanted a share of the catch? Craning her neck, Kiela looked to see the docks between the streets and glimpsed fishermen and women spilling a net onto the street. A few crabs skittered out, and then her view was obscured by a woman hauling a crate cross the street.
Kiela continued on past the dry fountain to the bakery, expecting to see the usual crowd of customers at the tables and by the counter, but instead it was empty. No tables. No chairs. And the window with the counter was shut.Huh, where is everyone?At least the bakery door was open so she knew that Bryn at least hadn’t—
A man strode out of the bakery with a stubby loaf of bread clutched in his hands.I know him.He was Fenerer, the man with scales who’d come to her shop, grumped at her, and failed to buy any jam. Seeing her, he halted. “You, citygirl.”
She couldn’t help glancing behind her, even though it was obvious he was talking to her. One of the winged cats, gray-furred with maroon wings, eyed them from a nearby roof. All the cats seemed on edge. Maybe because of all the seagulls? Or maybe they didn’t like Fenerer either? She wished she’d arrived just a few minutes later. And she wished the harbor bell would quit tolling.
“You can’t come here and cause trouble,” he barked at her. “This is a peaceful island. You need to go back to where you came from.”
“I’m from Caltrey,” Kiela said in a small voice.
He snorted. “You left. You came back with all sorts of unnatural ideas. Bringing trouble to our island. We don’t need that. We have enough troubles on our own, without strangers coming in and making things worse.”
