Chapter 6 (Part II): A Fair to Remember

There ain't no man can save me

There ain't no man can enslave me

Ain't no man or men that can change the shape my soul is in

There ain't nobody here who can cause me pain or raise my fear

Cause I got only love to share

If you're looking for truth I'm proof you'll find it there

- The Avett Brothers, musicians from the northern land of Carolina, on the world of Earth 

The horse show was being hosted at the county fairgrounds, an open communal space marked by a few permanent stables and a large arena, all surrounded by tents. Almost everyone knew that the kingdom was crumbling and if Thrakaduhl was right, Gerault was being hit harder than most places in Caelia.

Yet, at least some of the ranchers, farmers, and craftspeople tried to make the best of it. They bought and sold trinkets that ranged from junk cobbled together into decorations, to fine blown glass and handmade jewelry. Their smallest children played with piglets and lambs kept in little pens – or maybe the piglets and lambs played with children kept in the pens? It was hard to tell. Men attempted to demonstrate their upper body strength by competing over feats vaguely related to farm work. At the center of it all was not the farm show, but some local band, apparently a group of brothers, playing a song that had people clapping and stomping their boots. And the lyrics seemed to deliberately thumb their nose at the grim circumstances beyond the boundaries of the little fair.   

Kaira felt her face being drawn into a smile; it was strange, given that no violence had erupted yet. The stomping boots and the clapping hands brought back a memory. Weeks earlier… no, it was over a month now... Kaira had been drinking in a bar with Azraea and Ochsner while some of Kingstown’s students celebrated the end of the semester behind them.

Some might have said that the students’ good cheer was infectious, but at the time Kaira had regarded it like any other contagion – best avoided. Their celebration seemed unwarranted, delusional, and given that the whole university had been burned to the ground and a large portion of the students murdered soon afterward, Kaira could be forgiven for thinking that her negativity had been validated.

Still… as much as Kaira had sneered at their celebration, she wondered how many of those ‘clueless’ students had been out in the streets protesting while she was fleeing town on a quest for personal wealth and glory. Should she have been there? Should she have been in the street when the dragon laid waste to the crowd? Should she be dead?

And then Kaira remembered what Azraea had said; the dragon never should have been able to murder those people in the first place. Kaira’s former classmates shouldn’t be dead, and neither should she. The injustice of it gnawed at her, and she started thinking of the people here – how much had they endured under the Kerwyns? And what was to stop the dragon from coming along some day and burning this all to the ground, just as she had done to the farms around Rosebud?

“And here I thought you might be at serious risk of enjoying yourself,” Thrakaduhl interrupted her thoughts.

“Pardon?” Kaira jarred out of them.

“It’s a fine day, plenty of sun, the smell of grass and healthy animals. Children laughing. People selling jars of moonshine that can peel paint… all of that, and the promise of grand larceny in our future. I thought this might please you. I even thought I saw the beginning of a smile.”

Now Kaira did smile, “Did you bring me out here on a date?”

“Well, granted we have things need doing, but I reckon life’s too short to do one thing at a time. When I ran into you on the road, after so long apart, I decided to improvise a little.”

“And what would you have done if I hadn’t come along?”

“Oh, waited until after dark and stolen Kerwyn’s horses then, I imagine. Like I said, it still needs doing, but I might be a bit less bold on my own.”

“Less bold? Or less motivated to impress me?”

“I reckon a bit of both. Now tell me, have you ever eaten anything deep fried?” Thrakaduhl asked.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Well, that explains your delicate dimensions.”

“Delicate?” Kaira raised an eyebrow.

“In much the same way a rapier is, of course.”

“I’ll accept that. What is ‘deep fried’?”

“Well, the farmers south of here have figured out how to turn rapeseed into something darn close to oil.”

“Like olive oil?”

“Somewhat. Or maybe like bacon grease. Somewhere in between, I suppose. Now, they produce it in such great quantities they can fill cauldrons with the stuff. Like the kind you’d use to drive siege troops off of a wall.”

“Impressive,” Kaira nodded, “Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, indeed, this may be among the most dangerous of delicacies,” Thrakaduhl nodded as he led her over to a tent that was releasing peculiar smells. “Now, with a little egg, butter, and flour you can make something akin to dough, but they batter it into a fine liquid, dip things in it, and drop it into the boiling oil.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Anything edible,” Thrakaduhl said, “And a bit more beside. The batter alone is worthwhile.” He tossed out a handful of coins and ordered something from the person working in the tent. The man ran some of the batter out of a funnel into a basket, and dipped it into the cauldron for a few moments. He pulled it out, threw it onto a parchment, and handed it to the orc.

It looked like animal scat. Pale brown scat.

Thrakaduhl could tell by the look on her face she was not yet won over, “Allow me to apply the finishing touch.” He picked up a bowl of fine white powder and gently sprinkled it over the pile of hot dough-worms.

“Is that sugar?” Kaira had never seen it so finely ground. It wasn’t impossible to come by in the kingdom, but having to be imported from the south, it was fairly expensive. She loved it in tea, but in the quantities she liked, it made for a pricey beverage. Her parents had always had plenty to spare, but since leaving home, she’d had to learn to settle for honey. Eager to have a years-long craving fixed, she set aside what the hot funneled cake looked like and began eating. It was crispy on the outside but soft on the inside. It made for a satisfying crunch, and she happily licked the sugar from her finger tips.

“Praise the divine,” Thrakaduhl smiled, “she has a vice.”

“I have a lot of vices,” Kaira said, “but this might be the oldest. How do these people have sugar?”

“Many of them are descended from men and women who worked the plantations north of the Facian Sea,” Thrakaduhl said, “The culture there practically revolves around the sugar cane crops they raise. Cakes, pies, candies, fruit drinks… it’s hard to get here, but they love it so much that they find the means, especially for special occasions like this.”

“If you love something enough, you make it work.”

“Something like that,” Thrakaduhl said, “Now tell me, how is it you were such a sugar junkie already? I imagined you grew up on kale and radishes.”

“My parents worked a lot with exports and imports through the eastern harbors,” Kaira said, “and we travelled out of Caelia sometimes as part of their work.”

“I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Thrakaduhl said, “You seem more grounded in the here and now than I would expect someone with such an exciting childhood to have,” he scratched behind his ear as if slightly embarrassed, “I expect all of this must seem quaint…”

“The world my parents live in can be… harsh. I guess in a way it’s its own sort of wilderness. My mother would call this quaint, maybe rustic if she was being kind, but to me it’s… I don’t know… civilized? I know it has its own dark backdrop, but this place, right now, this fair is a lot like the college was, actually.”

“Well, that seems unlikely…”

“At the college, most people came and went within a few years, only a few staying there for the rest of their lives. Because of that… there’s a different attitude from most other places. People worked to deliberately create a community they knew would only be temporary.”

“Like this fair?”

“Like this fair,” Kaira nodded, “Now, I’ve been thinking… If our goal is to get the dragon’s attention by making you famous…”

“Infamous,” Thrakaduhl said, “I believe infamy is technically our goal.”

“Maybe,” Kaira said, “But if we just spontaneously bust into the stables and take the Kerwyns’ best horses, we’ll just be horse thieves.”

“Oh, I agree,” Thrakaduhl said, “I need to leave a bigger impression than that.”

“And do you have a plan for that?” Kaira was surprised he was one step ahead of her. She mentally chided herself for that – just because she wasn’t especially socially adept didn’t mean Thrakaduhl wasn’t.

“Follow my lead,” he winked and smiled as he finished what was left of the funnel cake.

Thrakaduhl headed towards the games the men were playing, and paid in for both of them.

“What are we doing?” Kaira asked.

“Just do what comes natural,” Thrakaduhl said, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

The men heaving and tossing hay bales stepped aside for the two of them. There were other elves and orcs at the fair, mixing about, selling wares and playing games but even among them Kaira and Thrakaduhl stood out. None of the other elves had Kaira’s tattoos or piercings, and none of the orcs were as powerfully built or handsome as Thrakaduhl; the orc's emerald green skin practically glowed in the sun when he took his loose shirt off and picked up a hay bale. What may have made them stand out the most, though, was that they were together. In any part of the kingdom, an orc and an elf flirting and sharing food would have been a strange sight. Orcs had once been the elves' under caste, exploited for manual labor and warfare. After coming to this hemisphere, the orcs had overthrown their elf masters and made their own mark on the continents north of the equator. Though few of the elves from that time survived, and none of the orcs, there were deep scars that transcended time and space, distancing the two races from one another, even in Caelia.

Thrakaduhl talked to one of the other competitors as if they were longtime friends. The man seemed surprised by the unfamiliar orc’s friendliness, but warmed up to him quickly enough and showed him how to properly throw the hay bale. After one or two tries, Thrakaduhl heaved the bale through the air, tossing it well beyond the man’s furthest toss. Rather than being jealous or angry though, the man congratulated himself on being such a fine teacher, and urged Thrakaduhl to show off again for the other competitors.

The canny orc had showed up a complete stranger and earned his respect, rather than his resentment, simply by charming him with a bit of humility and flattery. Kaira was impressed.

Thrakaduhl motioned her over as a crowd gathered and showed her how to toss the bale the way the man had shown him, asked the man if she was doing it right, and confident she was doing so, had her gave it a toss. It was heavy; probably fifty pounds or more if it had been dry, and it had definitely gotten some rain the day before.

She tossed one of the bales but couldn’t match Thrakaduhl’s distance. Going, by the cheers, she clearly threw it much further than any of the spectators expected a woman to be able to, but even as an intensively conditioned elf, her upper body strength couldn’t compare to Thrakaduhl’s. On the other hand, she had other strengths.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but I assume that it would be more useful if these bales were stacked, right?”

“Yes ma’am, generally speaking, yes,” the farmer said.

She heaved a second and a third bale, landing each one squarely on top of the other in a neat little stack. The onlookers cheered and shouted. Even the other elves and orcs that had wandered over were impressed by the show.

“Oh,” Thrakaduhl said, “We’re all out of bales. Let me get that.” The orc sauntered down range, knelt in front of her neat little stack, and hefted all three of the bales in his arms. He casually sauntered back to the others and set them down gently. Even Kaira was impressed by that, and without thinking about it she gave him a peck on the cheek. That got as many cheers as anything – apparently the fair was full of romantics.

They hefted a few more of the bales, and at the urging of the farmer’s wife, Thrakaduhl lifted the man onto his shoulder, and had the man throw a bale while being carried. It wasn’t a very effective technique, but it got some good laughs. They moved onto the other sports – sheaf tossing and horseshoe throwing, which Kaira excelled at, and pole tossing, which Thrakaduhl eventually out did everyone at. He downed a beer and tossed one last pole, throwing it high enough it landed in the ground and stuck like a javelin. Technically that was a loss, since the pole was supposed to flip at least once to count, but it was an impressive enough feat to get cheers anyway. Kaira handed her own beer to a new friend to hold for a moment, and surprised Thrakaduhl by hopping into his arms. With some urging she managed to convince him to toss her – given she weighed a fraction of what the pole did, it wasn’t difficult – but it still thrilled the crowd when she twisted in the air and landed squarely on top of the pole with perfect balance.

“That was too easy; I don’t think I’ve had enough beer!” she shouted from on top of the pole. The crowd laughed as she gracefully flipped down to the ground. Thrakaduhl walked over and, though shorter than her by several inches, lifted her onto one shoulder and carried her over to the music as the rest of the crowd followed. After some impromptu lessons from the local experts, they joined in with the other people dancing in front of the stage. Kaira effortlessly copied the movements the women showed her, while Thrakaduhl did well enough to not completely embarrass himself. They traded partners as dictated by the song, many people excited to rub shoulders with the fair’s new minor celebrities. 
At last needing a break, they followed the crowd to the beer garden for some arm wrestling, darts, and checkers.