The Finding (19 page)

After admiring all of the shapes and colors, Jahrra took a closer look and found that the map was also labeled quite clearly. The names of these places were both in the common language and, just below, in Kruelt. Jahrra immediately loved this map, and she soon became entranced, grazing her eyes over it again and again. She read out some of the names in the dragons’ language as best as she could pronounce them, looking to her mentor for help.

“Here,” chuckled Hroombra, pushing over a much smaller map, only as big as the top of a small table, “you might want to start out with this one.”

Jahrra looked dazedly at the new document and saw that it was just as detailed as the first one, only this map showed all of the province of Oescienne.

“The landmarks are printed in Kruelt, but you need the practice anyway. You can copy it and carry it with you so you won’t get lost.”

Hroombra then pushed over a blank scroll small enough for Jahrra to keep in Phrym’s saddlebags, but large enough for her to copy the major features of the Oescienne map. He also pushed a box of drawing and coloring pencils in her direction and Jahrra soon began her work, completely forgetting about her anger at the old dragon and the dreaded party she had to attend.

“You may help yourself to the roast on the fire as well. I figured you might not have eaten.” Hroombra nodded to the remains of a large wild pig roasting deliciously over the large fireplace.

Jahrra lay in front of the hearth for hours, working on her map and looking at the others, eating the roasted pork and enjoying the warmth of the fire on this cold night. Hroombra answered all of her questions about the many maps he pored over and even helped her with her own map.

When Jahrra finished all of the details, she scribbled in the names of the different places and checked to make sure everything was as accurate as she could make it. She gave the map the same colors as the old one in front of her, but the newer drawing glowed with the vibrancy that time had not yet stolen.

When the hour grew late, Jahrra yawned hugely, realizing just how tired she was. Her map was not yet finished, but she could work on it later. As she stretched her back and bid good night to Hroombra, he reminded her of her fitting at the tailor’s tomorrow.

Jahrra groaned, suddenly remembering the past two days. She shuffled off to her room, feeling the warmth from the fire slowly seeping away. She climbed reluctantly into bed, dreading the arrival of morning, but managed to calm her anxious thoughts with painted scenes from her new map.

The next day Hroombra and Jahrra traveled to Aldehren in hopes of finding the perfect outfit for the Solsticetide party. The journey was slow going and although Jahrra loathed the idea of spending a day away from her friends, she couldn’t help being curious about the many fabrics the tailor might have to offer.

The bustling town of Aldehren was busy with the clamor of the season and Jahrra suddenly remembered the last few times she’d walked through town with a huge dragon. Once it been her first day of school, and she frowned as she recalled the menacing scowls and guarded whispers from the early morning crowd that autumn day so long ago. The second time had been during a trip through Edyadth, when they had witnessed a slave auction. Jahrra shivered as she recalled the chained people and a pair of bright green, elvin eyes that had made her uneasy. And just like the first time in Aldehren, the people of Edyadth had regarded Hroombra with disdain, moving away and muttering as he’d passed. Jahrra now wondered if her guardian would get the same treatment today.

Either the people of Aldehren had finally gotten used to the fact that a mystical beast lived on the great hill above their town, or they were so caught up in their own business of the day that they hardly noticed his presence now. There were the few stares and pointing fingers of the enthralled children being dragged along by their mothers from one over-stuffed shop to the next, but nothing like what Jahrra remembered. Everyone, except for a few wagons drawn by two or four horses, stuck closely to the sidewalks, easily distracted by the glittering and bedecked storefronts. No one seemed to care about the dragon passing by.

Jahrra relaxed a little and looked around. She smiled at the people shuffling about, tripping over decorations and long ribbons or trying hard to balance gift boxes piled high in their arms. The air held the dancing scents of hot-baked cranberry cobbler, spicy cinnamon cider and roasting chestnuts. Jingling bells hanging from polished harnesses played throughout the city streets, and Jahrra felt a pleasant chill creep over her skin as the smells and sights of the Solstice season overwhelmed her.

Hroombra eventually stopped in front of an obscure little shop painted a dark, brilliant blue with a wooden sign hanging above the holly-draped door. The sign read
Gahlen’s Fine Clothery
, and Jahrra realized with a tiny grimace that this must be the tailor’s shop. She reluctantly slid off of Hroombra’s back as he stood blocking the flow of traffic. It seemed people were taking notice of him now, giving puzzled looks and muttering irritably as they shoved passed him.

“I’ll wait right here for you Jahrra,” he said in a low voice, eyeing the person-sized door in front of them.

“Alright,” she gulped.

Jahrra turned the handle of the door and pushed, causing a cheerful jingle of bells to chatter above her head. She stepped cautiously into the small, cramped tailor’s shop, the buzz of the crowd ceasing as the door swung shut. Jahrra blinked as her eyes became overwhelmed with an explosion of vibrant color.

Cotton, silk, satin, denim, lace, linen and wool, every type of fabric in every color imaginable populated the small space she stood in. Streams of cloth hung like banners on the walls and huge folded squares of it were piled as high as the ceiling. Jahrra had never seen anything so colorful in her life. It was like all of the rainbows of the world had been trapped in this tiny place and were trying desperately to escape.

The light that flooded in from the many tall windows facing the street glowed with the color of whatever pattern stood in their way. The aroma of cinnamon, shoe polish and something more stringent, perhaps the fumes from the dye used to create these brilliantly painted fabrics, tainted the room. It was a strange combination of scents, but Jahrra liked it, smiling despite her wariness.

A grunt from somewhere in the back of the room made her yelp. A very tall and thin older Resai man came dancing into view, loaded down with an armful of even more fabric. When he dumped the folds onto the already crowded cashier’s counter, Jahrra noticed that he had no hair but a long grey beard he kept braided. His legs and arms were so long and gangly that if he had another set of each Jahrra would have been convinced he was an oversized daddy-long-legs spider. She giggled at the thought, but quickly stifled her laughter knowing that it would appear rude.

The tailor seemed preoccupied, so Jahrra politely cleared her throat. The man stopped his humming and whirled around to gaze quizzically down at her. He had bright, pale brown eyes and almost as many wrinkles as Hroombra.

“Why, I didn’t hear you enter! How may I help you dearie?” he asked in a melodic voice, straightening up to an even taller height.

Jahrra quickly and awkwardly explained who she was and why she was there. After a swift glance through the window to find Hroombra smiling in encouragement, the tailor got straight to work. Although Jahrra had grown to be one of the tallest in her class so far, the kind man still had to bend down in order to pat her on the head, which he did quite frequently.

“What a lovely child!” he said enthusiastically. “Such good bone structure, and look at that hair! Like threads of gold.”

Jahrra thought the man was exaggerating about her hair, but she liked him anyways. He cheered her up and actually looked happy, not annoyed, to see Hroombra loitering outside his door.

The fitting took longer than expected, but Jahrra was much amused by the tailor’s chatter. He placed her up on a small stool and began draping acres of fabric over her as if he were trying to build a mountain. Then he would scurry around the small room muttering to himself while constantly measuring her with yellow tape.

“Tsk, tsk,” he would say with chin in hand. “That color won’t do, no sir-ee. AHHH!” he exclaimed, making Jahrra jump as he pulled off several layers of cloth, almost knocking her off her perch. “This’ll do much better.”

What he thought would do was a pretty blue and silver patterned fabric that looked like silk. Jahrra was wondering where it had been because she didn’t remember being draped with that particular color. She liked it very much though, and wondered what he would make with it.

“What do you think?” he flapped the fabric boisterously in front of Hroombra, who was now peering in through the door so he could hear everything.

“Very nice. It’ll do well, very well indeed,” was the dragon’s approving reply.

“Yes, it goes well with her eye color,” said the tailor, once again distracted with the aesthetics of his job.

He then found a solid blue material that matched the blue highlights in the first fabric.

“Good, good, good.” he twittered, trailing blue and silver sheets of fabric over to his crowded desk. “I’ll work on this for a few days. Then I’ll need you to come back, young lady, for a fitting.”

The tailor smiled and patted Jahrra’s head once again before releasing her to Hroombra. They left for home with Jahrra feeling a little more than dazed by the strange experience.

“What exactly is he making?” she asked once they left the noisy town behind.

“I would think he’s making a skirt and a blouse,” Hroombra said knowledgeably.

“A skirt!” Jahrra blurted. “Are you crazy, I can’t wear a skirt!”

“Oh, yes you can. It’s formal dress, remember?” Hroombra answered firmly.

Jahrra groaned aloud. She hated the idea of wearing anything girly. She hated girly things, plus, they were uncomfortable. All she knew was that Ellysian was always girly, and the last thing she wanted was to be anything like Ellysian. Jahrra crossed her arms with a disgruntled huff.
A skirt! Why a skirt?
she thought miserably.
Well
, she sighed inwardly, knowing there was nothing she could do about it now,
at least it’s blue
.

The next week passed quickly, with Jahrra and Hroombra traveling to town twice more to try on her outfit, buy shoes and jewelry to match, and to finally take the whole lot home to prepare for the party.

Finally, after two weeks of uncomfortable anticipation, the day of the dreaded event arrived. Jahrra rode Phrym to her friends’ ranch early in the morning on Solstice Eve. Kaihmen and Nuhra had offered to drive the children into town, and Hroombra thought it best if Jahrra got ready at Wood’s End Ranch.

“Be sure your skirt and blouse are tucked well into the saddlebag so they won’t get dirty!” Hroombra shouted after Jahrra as Phrym tore across the frost coated fields.

Jahrra had half a mind to get them dirty on purpose.
That’ll show the twins, showing up in stained clothes to their fancy party!
she thought slyly. Then she remembered the trouble Hroombra had gone to in order to get the outfit made for her. She quickly forgot about how she could sabotage the twins’ evening and turned her focus on how to survive it.

Once she reached the ranch and Phrym was put away safely into the stables, Jahrra went inside to greet her friends.

“What’re you going to wear?” Gieaun asked gleefully dragging her friend upstairs. Apparently, the notion of dressing up had suddenly overshadowed the reality of where they were going, at least in Gieaun’s eyes.

“A skirt and blouse.”

Jahrra’s response was barely audible, but Gieaun heard her anyway and let out a squeal of delight.

Jahrra turned crimson as Gieaun pulled her into her room. Scede snickered after them, but just before Gieaun closed the door to the rest of the house, Jahrra turned and gave him a deadly glare. Scede stopped laughing immediately. The last thing he wanted was to suffer the wrath of his ill-tempered friend. Once in the other room, Gieaun helped Jahrra into her long skirt and blouse.

The Resai girl simply adored her friend’s outfit. “Oh, Jahrra! The skirt is so lovely, and the blouse too!”

The clothes had turned out quite nicely, Jahrra had to admit. The tailor must have sensed her distaste for too-feminine clothing from their few meetings, so he’d kept it simple. The long-sleeved blouse was a pale blue with a beautiful dark blue and silver embroidered pattern of oak branches and wild roses trailing around the collar, sleeve ends and hem.

The sleeves, although long, flared out at the ends so that her wrists wouldn’t feel constrained. The skirt, the same color as the dark blue thread in the embroidered pattern, was long and flowing with delicate plaiting. The hem ended in a flurry of small tassels that had silver beads sewn on them.

Hroombra also had the tailor fit her for a jacket of supple blue suede, stitched with a large leather thread and lined with soft wool. This jacket complemented her clothes quite well and matched her dress boots perfectly.

Of the entire outfit, Jahrra loved her boots the most. They were made of the same blue suede of her long coat and lined with the same wool for the winter cold, and although they had small heels on them, they were quite comfortable.

The jewelry that Jahrra picked out was a plain necklace made of blue glass and silver with matching earrings and a bracelet. Hroombra had pointed out some nicer pieces, but Jahrra insisted on the simpler ones, feeling that he’d already given her plenty for this accursed party.