“Is this a Spring faerie thing?” Laurel said, her voice raised a little.
“Laurel, please,” Tamani implored, his eyes darting from side to side. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She glared at him, but he refused to meet her eyes, so she surrendered for the moment and continued walking. She meandered through the kiosks for some time, delighting in the sparkling wind chimes and silky lengths of fabric displayed by shopkeepers who were, in some cases, dressed even more extravagantly than the crowd.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a stunning string of sparkling diamonds—probably real ones—intertwined with tiny pearls and delicate glass flowers.
“It’s for your hair,” a tall, crimson-haired faerie offered helpfully. With fingers encased in stark white gloves that seemed far too formal to Laurel, he touched the end where a comb was cleverly hidden behind a cluster of glass blossoms. Naturally, because he was male, he had no blossom, but his clothing suggested that he, too, was a Summer. “May I?”
Laurel looked to Tamani and he smiled and nodded. She turned and the tall faerie fixed the bauble securely in her hair, then led her to a large mirror on the opposite side of the kiosk. Laurel smiled at her reflection. The silvery strand hung just to the side of where she parted her hair, down past her shoulders. It sparkled in the sun, bringing out the shine of the natural highlights in her blond hair. “It’s beautiful,” she said breathlessly.
“Would you like to wear it, or shall I wrap it in a box?”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“You should,” Tamani said quietly. “It looks lovely.”
“But I…” She stepped around the tall shopkeeper and stood close to Tamani. “I have nothing to pay for it, and I’m certainly not going to let you pay for it.”
Tamani laughed quietly. “You don’t pay for goods here, Laurel. That’s a very…human thing. Take it. He’ll be complimented that you like his work.”
Laurel glanced at the shopkeeper hovering just out of earshot. “Really?”
“Yes. Tell him it pleases you and that you’ll wear it to the Academy; that’s all the payment he wants.”
It was all so unbelievable. Laurel felt nervous, momentarily unable to overcome her certainty that, any second now, a security faerie was going to pop out and arrest her. But Tamani wouldn’t pull a trick like that on her…would he?
She took one more look in the mirror, then smiled at the tall faerie, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “It’s really, really beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to wear it back to the Academy, if I may.” The faerie beamed at her and made a slight bow. Laurel hesitantly began to walk away.
No one stopped her.
It was a few minutes before Laurel got over the feeling she’d just stolen something. She started paying attention to the other browsers and many of them also removed items from the displays and kiosks without giving anything in return but compliments and gratitude. After several minutes of observing other “shoppers,” she forced herself to calm down.
“We should get something for you,” she said, turning to Tamani.
“Oh, no. Not me. I don’t shop here. My market square is down the hill a little farther.”
“Then what’s this?”
“This is Summer Square.”
“Oh,” Laurel said, panicking again. “But I’m a Fall. I shouldn’t have gotten this.”
Tamani laughed. “No, no, Winter and Fall faeries shop where they like. There are too few of them to have their own square.”
“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “So could I shop in your square too?”
“I guess you could, but I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“Why not?”
Tamani shrugged. “It’s not pretty like the Summer Square. I mean, the square’s pretty; everything in Avalon is beautiful. But we don’t need trinkets and decor. We need clothing, food, and the tools of our many trades. I get my weapons there as well as the elixirs and potions I need for my sentry kits—those things are sent down from the Academy. The Summer faeries need the flashy things; it’s part of their trade. Those in theatre, especially. But if you look closer, particularly in some of the inside shops, you’ll find the more technical supplies. Paints and equipment for scenery, musical instruments, jewelry-making tools—that kind of thing.” He grinned. “The kiosks have all the sparkles and such in them so they catch the sun and draw more shoppers.”
They both laughed and Laurel reached up to touch the new hair comb. She wondered briefly what it would be worth back in California, and then dismissed the thought. It was nothing she’d ever sell, so it didn’t matter.
The crowd was thinning as they walked farther from marketplace. The broad earthen road was lined with houses now, and Laurel glanced from side to side in wonder. Each dwelling was made entirely of the same kind of sugar glass that formed the picture window in Laurel’s own room. The larger translucent orbs that opened out into the street were obviously living rooms; the slightly smaller pastel-tinged bubbles clustered on the sides and back Laurel suspected were bedrooms. Enormous curtains of pastel-colored silk were tucked behind each dwelling, allowing the sun to shine more brightly into the remarkable buildings, but Laurel saw how they could be draped over the glass for privacy at night. Each house sparkled in the sun, and many were decorated with strings of crystals and prisms catching the light and making it dance, just like the prisms Laurel had in her room back home. The whole neighborhood shimmered so brightly it was almost hard to look at, and Laurel realized that these were the “balloons” she’d seen from farther up the hill when she’d first arrived with Jamison. “They’re so pretty,” she mused.
“Laurel, please,” Tamani implored, his eyes darting from side to side. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She glared at him, but he refused to meet her eyes, so she surrendered for the moment and continued walking. She meandered through the kiosks for some time, delighting in the sparkling wind chimes and silky lengths of fabric displayed by shopkeepers who were, in some cases, dressed even more extravagantly than the crowd.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a stunning string of sparkling diamonds—probably real ones—intertwined with tiny pearls and delicate glass flowers.
“It’s for your hair,” a tall, crimson-haired faerie offered helpfully. With fingers encased in stark white gloves that seemed far too formal to Laurel, he touched the end where a comb was cleverly hidden behind a cluster of glass blossoms. Naturally, because he was male, he had no blossom, but his clothing suggested that he, too, was a Summer. “May I?”
Laurel looked to Tamani and he smiled and nodded. She turned and the tall faerie fixed the bauble securely in her hair, then led her to a large mirror on the opposite side of the kiosk. Laurel smiled at her reflection. The silvery strand hung just to the side of where she parted her hair, down past her shoulders. It sparkled in the sun, bringing out the shine of the natural highlights in her blond hair. “It’s beautiful,” she said breathlessly.
“Would you like to wear it, or shall I wrap it in a box?”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“You should,” Tamani said quietly. “It looks lovely.”
“But I…” She stepped around the tall shopkeeper and stood close to Tamani. “I have nothing to pay for it, and I’m certainly not going to let you pay for it.”
Tamani laughed quietly. “You don’t pay for goods here, Laurel. That’s a very…human thing. Take it. He’ll be complimented that you like his work.”
Laurel glanced at the shopkeeper hovering just out of earshot. “Really?”
“Yes. Tell him it pleases you and that you’ll wear it to the Academy; that’s all the payment he wants.”
It was all so unbelievable. Laurel felt nervous, momentarily unable to overcome her certainty that, any second now, a security faerie was going to pop out and arrest her. But Tamani wouldn’t pull a trick like that on her…would he?
She took one more look in the mirror, then smiled at the tall faerie, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “It’s really, really beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to wear it back to the Academy, if I may.” The faerie beamed at her and made a slight bow. Laurel hesitantly began to walk away.
No one stopped her.
It was a few minutes before Laurel got over the feeling she’d just stolen something. She started paying attention to the other browsers and many of them also removed items from the displays and kiosks without giving anything in return but compliments and gratitude. After several minutes of observing other “shoppers,” she forced herself to calm down.
“We should get something for you,” she said, turning to Tamani.
“Oh, no. Not me. I don’t shop here. My market square is down the hill a little farther.”
“Then what’s this?”
“This is Summer Square.”
“Oh,” Laurel said, panicking again. “But I’m a Fall. I shouldn’t have gotten this.”
Tamani laughed. “No, no, Winter and Fall faeries shop where they like. There are too few of them to have their own square.”
“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “So could I shop in your square too?”
“I guess you could, but I don’t know why you’d want to.”
“Why not?”
Tamani shrugged. “It’s not pretty like the Summer Square. I mean, the square’s pretty; everything in Avalon is beautiful. But we don’t need trinkets and decor. We need clothing, food, and the tools of our many trades. I get my weapons there as well as the elixirs and potions I need for my sentry kits—those things are sent down from the Academy. The Summer faeries need the flashy things; it’s part of their trade. Those in theatre, especially. But if you look closer, particularly in some of the inside shops, you’ll find the more technical supplies. Paints and equipment for scenery, musical instruments, jewelry-making tools—that kind of thing.” He grinned. “The kiosks have all the sparkles and such in them so they catch the sun and draw more shoppers.”
They both laughed and Laurel reached up to touch the new hair comb. She wondered briefly what it would be worth back in California, and then dismissed the thought. It was nothing she’d ever sell, so it didn’t matter.
The crowd was thinning as they walked farther from marketplace. The broad earthen road was lined with houses now, and Laurel glanced from side to side in wonder. Each dwelling was made entirely of the same kind of sugar glass that formed the picture window in Laurel’s own room. The larger translucent orbs that opened out into the street were obviously living rooms; the slightly smaller pastel-tinged bubbles clustered on the sides and back Laurel suspected were bedrooms. Enormous curtains of pastel-colored silk were tucked behind each dwelling, allowing the sun to shine more brightly into the remarkable buildings, but Laurel saw how they could be draped over the glass for privacy at night. Each house sparkled in the sun, and many were decorated with strings of crystals and prisms catching the light and making it dance, just like the prisms Laurel had in her room back home. The whole neighborhood shimmered so brightly it was almost hard to look at, and Laurel realized that these were the “balloons” she’d seen from farther up the hill when she’d first arrived with Jamison. “They’re so pretty,” she mused.
