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DINA
A Stranger
When I first saw him, I had no idea he would change our lives.
There was no tremor from the ground, no icy gust of wind, not even a real shiver down my back. Just a small twinge of unease. I
didn't even tell Mama about him. Maybe I should have? I don't know. It wouldn't have changed anything, not really. From the moment he caught sight of me, it was too late in any case.
It was supposed to be a good day. I had been looking forward to it for a long time—the Midsummer Market, when all the clans meet to trade, and talk, and entertain each other with races and contests and music from dusk to dawn. Mama and I had worked our fingers to the bone, drying herbs and making ointments and remedies for all sorts of ailments, and Rose, my foster-sister and best friend, had carved bowls and spoons and shelf ends, and little dolls and animals for the children. She was clever with her knife, and in her hands a bit of kindling would suddenly turn into a cow or a dog, as if the animal had been there all the time,
hiding in the grain of the wood. My older brother Davin had nothing to trade, but he thought he might win a prize in one of the races with Falk, our skittish black gelding.
This would be my first Midsummer Market in the Highlands.
The summer before there had been strife and hostility among the clans, and no real Market had been held. Kensie, the clan we lived with, had clashed with Skaya, and it was only at the last moment that we had managed to stop the battle in Skara Vale before they ended up killing each other. It had all been Drakan's fault, of course; Drakan who called himself Dragon Lord and ruled almost all the coastlands now, after having murdered the old castellan of Dunark. He was a bad enemy to have, was
Drakan, both devious and ruthless. Instead of doing battle with the clans himself, he tricked them into warring with each other.
And back when he killed Ebnezer Ravens, his daughter-in-law
Adela, and her young son Bian, he managed to have the castellan's own son, Nicodemus, accused of the murders. Nico would have ended up with his head on the block if it hadn't been for
Mama. And me, a little bit. On that day, Drakan had become our enemy. And his reach was long.
We still couldn't go anywhere without protection. Callan
Kensie had been Mama's bodyguard for two years now. He was big and steady and kind to us, and I liked him. But I still wished we didn't need him.
"Such a crowd," said Mama. She had to keep a firm hold of the reins; Falk, who was serving as our cart-horse that morning,
was not used to all the push-and-shove and hubbub. "Where do you think we should go?"
I surveyed the crowded scene. At first it looked completely chaotic, with people milling about like ants in an anthill. But there was actually a pattern to the Market, streets and squares and crossroads, just like a real town, even if the Market town was made up of carts and wagons and tents instead of houses.
"There's a free spot," I said, pointing. "There, at the end."
"Right," said Mama, clicking her tongue at Falk. Our black horse snorted but walked on, stiff-gaited and suspicious of the crowd.
"Copper kettles," yelled a peddler woman. "Best copperware at even better prices!"
"Three marks?" said a broad-backed Skaya man. "Bit steep for a pair of socks, if ye ask me!"
"Pork sausage! Smoked venison! Have a taste, Medama. Ye'll not regret it!"
Falk laid back his ears and became even more stiff-legged.
The cart was hardly moving at all, now.
"Can't you make him move a little faster?" I asked Mama.
"Somebody else will grab our space."
"He doesn't like all the ruckus," said Mama. "Dina, I think you had better lead him."
