Gadolor

Faded Face

“Little one,” Mala scolded, “I said to find something bright we can weave with, not this great shining wardrobe. It’s so bright it dazzles my eyes.” Romni giggled. This was Mala’s way of giving praise. She held a colorful loosely-woven scarf, which they would pick apart and use to make something more elaborate. “Hmm, though, hmm,” Mala mused, looking the thing over, deciding where to start.

“Look,” Romni cried, jumping up. Across the street, oranges rolled everywhere as someone spilled a crate full of the fruit. People laughed as the merchant scrambled about, trying to pick them up before they got trampled. Romni rushed over to help. “Hello, master. You have a mess, I see,” she gave her reliable cheerful smile.

“Oh, thank you missie,” the sweating man said. The two of them worked to put the oranges back, as passersby called out advice. Romni stuck out her tongue cheekily at them. Before long the oranges were back in the crate, and the merchant straightened, mopping his brow. “Pwah, what a mess. My thanks to you, friend.”

Romni curtsied carefully, smiling again. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Here,” the man said, reaching back to his wagon, “This is my thanks.” He handed her a strip of seasoned meat.

“Thank you, master!” Turning, she made her way back to where Mala sat.

“He gave you food,” the fortuneteller commented.

“Yes. It’ll go nicely with a bit of orange.” As she sat, Romni let three oranges tumble out, which she had been hiding in her skirt. She giggled again.

Mala clucked her tongue. “That thieving boy has put his mark on you. You did it well though; I didn’t even see you take them.”

“Ha,” Romni replied, “I can do that and more. That man walking by? I could empty his pocket while you blink. He’d be left wondering what happened.”

“And then he’d chase you, cheeky scoundrel. Come, help me with this scarf. Much better to buy people’s money than to snatch it. Sebastian is a fool.”

Sebastian himself showed up a while later, wearing his annoyed scowl. “Romni, I wish you’d help me crack these tourists. They have sharp eyes but they’re silly with girls. We could rake in a king’s ransom if you’d help me.”

“I’ve been with Mala,” Romni replied prettily, “It’s much better to buy people’s money than to snatch it. We’re making charms. Mala’s giving them magic.”

“You might as well steal their money,” Sebastian grumbled. He wouldn’t say more with Mala around, who could easily toss his words like a farmer tossed hay. Romni was hoping to learn that from her, too.

— § —

Before Romni knew it, autumn had come. They stopped one day under a grove of leaves whose green faces were tinged by red and orange and were wrinkled as if toasted by fire. The camp sat at a fork in the road, with one branch continuing east, while the other curved to the South. Henly the donkey ambled over to munch leaves from bushes, while Romni cleared a space for a fire. She had grown skilled at the task of firemaking. When she first began traveling, it had been a fun novelty. Now, with the nights growing cold, they needed the extra warmth.

Mala was musing. “Our paths part in the morning, I think. I need the big cities in the South.”

“What?” Romni reacted, “I thought you were coming with us to the Newr River.”

“It’s all farms down the Newr,” Mala said, “I want the cities close by. Rich ladies give good money for fortunetelling. I’ll see you in the spring, maybe.”

“But you can’t leave,” Romni protested, suddenly upset, “I’ll miss you. I. . .I like you.”

“And I like you, little one,” Mala said, pinching her cheek, “But we’ll not thrive in the same places. You need the work on farms at harvest time, and I need the cities. We’ll meet again someday.”

“Tell her she can’t go,” Romni begged Sebastian.

He looked up from the job of skinning a rabbit and shrugged. “Of course she can. And don’t ask me to go with her. She’s right; you and I wouldn’t make it where she does her work.”

— § —

That evening Romni sat staring into the fire. Sebastian and Mala were discussing the different ways they’d be spending the winter. It sounded like they would end up far apart. Romni hugged her knees. “Little one, why are you so quiet?” Mala asked.

“I don’t want you to go,” Romni said, not looking up, her voice thicker than she liked.

“Ah, little one,” Mala hummed, sidling her girth a little closer, “You needn’t be teary. We can’t always have our desire. The spirits of fate are too shrewd for that; you must be shrewder. Go out and take what you want and give no apology. You must learn to be your own self. You needn’t anyone to make you happy, not even me, for the best people have what they need because they got it for themselves. Mala has tried to teach you this.

“Be brave. Now, now, wipe away those tears. I was with you a while, and now I won’t be. There’s nothing to fear.” Romni rubbed a thumb across her cheeks and sniffed. She stared at the glowing coals and tried to take it all in. Mala’s leaving. What if you go far, far away? What if I never see you again? And will Sebastian be nice to me again when you’re gone? No, that didn’t matter. She didn’t need anyone to be nice to her, Mala had said.

Despite her resolution to stay strong, Romni felt tears welling up as she watched Mala take the southern path, next morning. She wanted to rush over and hug her and beg her to stay, and rub Henly’s nose one more time, and do anything to delay the parting. They were still in sight, so it could still be done. Then Mala and Henly disappeared down the path.

Sebastian was waiting on the other path. He scowled. “Well, are you going with her? I didn’t think so. Come on, then.” The absence of Mala and Sebastian’s bickering left silence for Romni to brood. After they had walked a while, Sebastian said, “I don’t know why you like her so much. She’s just a gabby old woman.”

“Don’t say that,” Romni snapped, “You don’t have to like her.” He shrugged. They walked on.