Serial Saturday: "The Last Inkweaver" Part 11

Part 11

"Waning Day"

Waning Day dawned crisp and frigid, every bit the “frosty” part of Greyfrost that gave credibility to the name.

I pulled myself out of bed and peered through the window. Everything looked stiff, and when I felt the pane of glass, the cold stung my fingers.
"Navy corduroy it is, then," I sighed to myself as I pulled the dress out of the wardrobe. 
The style was outdated, since I'd bought it for my graduation into Level 8, and the basic silhouette was intended for a much older woman. I liked it because it retained warmth, which I would certainly need on a day like today!

[...]

Beyond the recurring memory of playing near the scaffolding around The Wall as it was being built, just after I'd started Level 2 at the Academy, I didn't even give that whole disturbing conversation with my parents a second thought. Mother had been in a better mood these last couple days, too. Part of me wondered if she was still thinking about the "evil influences" of the outside world, but mostly I found that I didn't care about the things that had once frightened me so much. Was this what growing up felt like?
At the Academy, the feeling of imminent change set in from the moment I walked in the doors. Students bustled about in groups, no longer separated into Levels and filing in orderly lines down corridors. Instead, each one of us received a paper with four classrooms listed on it. We were told to report to those rooms to retrieve all of our uncollected projects from the past terms. This sort of activity was usually reserved for End-of-Term. There had always been one or two assignments that the Scholars had to keep for some reason--but not anymore. I stared at the stack of old History assignments going back to Level 4, wondering what on earth anybody expected me to do with it, but soon I took cues from my peers and followed their lead, picking and choosing a few papers to keep in an austere leather portfolio, and just putting the rest into the pulping basket. 

[...]

I entered the Calligraphy classroom with Matthias' pen gripped firmly in my hand. I had given a lot of thought to it over the last two days, and I felt certain that I shouldn't be keeping it, generosity aside. If I traveled to Gramble City, they would no doubt provide us with basic materials like pencils and quills. If I ended up staying in Mirrorvale, I wouldn't want to get too emotionally wrapped up in something as insignificant as a pen!

A gasp rippled through the front of the group, and when I could finally see into the room I realized why.
Upon every desk stood a fresh pen exactly like the one I held, along with a full inkwell. Master Colton smiled benevolently from the front of the room as we all stopped at our desks to confirm that yes, there was one for each of us.

"As my most advanced class," he said as the reality set in and the astonished murmurs started, "I firmly believe any one of you has the potential of being announced at the Gathering tonight, and I didn't want you to go forth unprepared."

A chorus of whoops and a burst of applause rippled around the room as everyone wanted to pull out a fresh parchment and try out their new pens. I looked at the inkwell and two pens in my hand. I glanced over to Matthias' desk, but he wasn't even here. There was no pen and inkwell there, either. 
[...]

I made it all the way to the main atrium of the Academy before I saw the cloud of springy red hair that was Terra. I hadn't seen her except in the company of giddy, nosy friends since the conversation with my parents--but today, she walked slowly, with her head bowed, and quite alone.
A line of porters stood near the entrance of the Academy, waiting to receive the full portfolios and boxes in order to deliver them to students' homes. I left my heavy portfolio with one of them, and hurried to catch up to Terra.
"Terra, wait for me!" I called.
She turned and smiled as I approached, but it seemed to require more effort than usual.
"How was your morning?" I asked, searching her face for the bubbly, enthusiastic girl I knew.
"Fine."

Who is this and what have they done with Terra? I thought. "Come on, why the long face?" I wasn't usually the one trying to pull her out of a dull mood. "I know it feels kind of strange to be packing up all our assignments already--but it is Waning Day, and I would think you of all people would be the most thrilled about such a dramatic change happening in a town where nothing exciting ever happens!"

Terra heaved a sigh. Already, her shoulders had picked up, and the cloud over her mood was slowly lifting. "Well, this will change things, all right--for some people," she added after a pause. "I think my Marks have never been high enough to even consider a Finishing School."

I gasped at a sudden gust of wind that hit us right outside the door, and pulled my cloak a little closer. "I don't know," I said. "You are plenty smart enough--I should think the level of advancement would carry a lot more significance than Behavior Marks."

Terra scoffed bitterly. "Psh, behavior... If I am as smart as you say, then how could someone accuse my family of purchasing and concealing contraband?"

Her words stung like the wind on my cheeks. On the one hand, she had a point; on the other-- "That had nothing to do with you, though!"
She finally looked at me with a grateful smile, a sign of her old demeanor slowly returning. "I'm glad you think so... but people will talk," she ended with a shrug.
 
[...]

Terra left the bakery walking arm in arm with me. I noticed a slight spring in her step as she munched the flaky blueberry scone.

"Feeling better?" I prodded.

My friend nodded, licking the dark juice from her fingers. "I suppose all I needed was a bit of affirmation from the one person who accepts me for who I am." She sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Callista. That's what I like most about you. I don't feel like I have to hide my real feelings or keep silent about what I'm thinking when I'm around you. I think you're a good influence on me."

I smiled back at her. "I'm glad I could help." The word influence reminded me of listening to my mother talk about all the bad influences in the big, terrible world. Evil can be subtle... feel good... My memories whispered in my ear. I shook them away as I went on, "For what it's worth, I feel the same way about you, the way you've accepted me in spite of my strange memories and the dreaming thing that sometimes happens." I gave a chuckle as we ascended the steps back to the Academy. "You're literally the only person who talks about them with me instead of freaking out over them."

Terra lifted her head, her customary grin plastered all over her face. "Oh, and speaking of dreams..." She latched onto my arm almost before she finished speaking, and dragged me down the hallway and across the courtyard.

"I was in Sewing class this morning... "

[...]

Terra bustled right for the corner of the room, where several baskets heaped with clothes stood in neat little groupings. Only one of them held a crumpled heap of cloth instead of a neatly-folded stack. Terra plunged her hands into the basket and withdrew an item, holding it up proudly. "See? Mistress Needle gave us all back our old projects, and I'd completely forgotten that I'd used this old thing for stitching practice!"

I gasped and stared in awe as I received the thing with trembling hands. The yellow dress! I held it up by the shoulders, remembering afresh exactly how it had looked in my memory, swishing and twirling around Terra's running legs. I blinked as a small, unintelligible voice started whispering in my ear, and instead of memories of games with my friend, I began thinking of something else entirely--a prince desires to woo a lady, and must endure different trials to win her hand... I shook my head and inspected the skirt very closely. If there had been a tear, then there most certainly should have been a seam--not the crazy, jagged stitching of Terra's haphazard attempts, but some kind of weaving or patching... 

I dropped the dress into my lap with a frown. "It's not there!" I mused.

Terra tilted her head, a bemused smile on her face. "Hmm? What's not there?" Her hands still played about her collar, and a faint blush played about her cheeks. 

"The tear I remembered," I tried to bring up the full details of the memory, but I couldn't stop thinking about the prince and his courtship--how bizarre! I raised an eyebrow and squinted at my friend. "You did tear it, didn't you?"

Terra sighed, her unsteady hands reaching up to twist a lock of hair around her finger. "Well, maybe..."
Yellow dress... I thought to myself, as if the chanting would summon the memory that I couldn't seem to retain anymore. Yellow dress... yellow dress... Ah! There it was! I blinked my eyes and I could picture the yellow dress clearly--only this time, it wasn't a young Terra wearing it, but a tall, graceful maiden, as she received the attentions of the ardent prince!

"Callista?" Terra's voice broke my concentration. "Are you recalling that memory or having another vision?"

I clapped my hands to either side of my head in frustration. "I'm trying to recall the memory I had... but I keep being interrupted by another vision that makes absolutely no sense!" I lifted my head to look at her and blurted, "Did you ever hear tell of a prince courting a young woman in a yellow dress?"

Terra was never very good at hiding emotions. I saw the fleeting astonishment in her eyes. All the willpower in the world couldn't hide the creeping blush blossoming over her ears and cheeks.
"I... I might have heard something like... But those kinds of stories are reserved for young children... It wasn't... I didn't--"

"And what might you two be doing in here?" Mistress Needle's sharp, nasally voice cut through the emptiness behind us.

I flinched and nearly dropped the bundle of yellow fabric in my hand. "Terra wanted to show me something!" I gasped, as if that was any excuse.

The seamstress wagged her head. "Callista Rubinsyn, is it? I was expecting you tomorrow, during your assigned class period--and you, Miss Jonsyn..." She narrowed her eyes at Terra, who pulled at her collar and reached for my arm. "I said students had permission to be in here at any point during the day if accompanied by a Tutor." She cast her eyes around the room and raised her hands. "I see no Tutor--you ladies must disperse to your appropriate classrooms!"

Disperse we did, with a healthy amount of alacrity!

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"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: The Art of The Bluff

We passed by several homesteads until we came to a small house set very close to the road. A quaint white picket fence surrounded the yard--which was tiny, compared to the vast pastures of the other properties--and the house itself was painted a cheery butter-yellow.

Jerry reached over the low gate to release the latch. "Home sweet home," he murmured. 

I followed, the sight of everything tickling my memory, the same as with Phantasm and the space ship. I knew I had come across an idea for a Western--if only I could place it!

Three sturdy steps up to the porch, and Jerry opened the door and led me inside, removing his hat as he did.

"That you, Jerry?" called a feminine voice from at least two rooms away.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called back.

With a swooshing of petticoats, a woman sailed into the room, and it was all I could do not to gasp aloud. This definitely had to be one of my stories I was living through I had most certainly seen her face somewhere before! Knowing me, I probably based her appearance on some actress I had recently seen--but who? And what significance did she have, that she would be the only familiar person I'd met so far?
By the time her expression changed, and she stopped just shy of greeting her husband, I realized I had probably been staring for a little too long.

"Oh," she set down the dishtowel she'd been using to wipe her hands. "Jerry," she murmured, edging closer to him without taking her eyes of of me, "who is this?"

He reached both arms to wrap her in a hug and lean in for a kiss. "In a moment, dear." He kissed her tenderly, and when they pulled away from each other, she watched his face searchingly. 

"What happened? I knew there had been a ruckus, because I could hear it from way out here. Jerry--"

"Nothing happened," he assured his wife. "Just a bit of a dustup with some of Tom's boys. No one got hurt. This one especially," he turned to me with a grin. "I was passing by just in time to pull her out of the path of a wagon. Shirley, I want you to meet Laura. Laura, this is my wife, Shirley Coldwell."
Her sparkling hazel eyes melted from fear and confusion into genuine warmth as she smiled at me. I had to admire the firm honey-golden hue of her hair, and the way it stayed in perfect curls at the nape of her neck. 

"Pleased to meet you, Laura," she said, holding out her hand. 

I shook it. "The feeling is mutual."

She hesitated, playing with the cuff of her billowing cream-colored blouse. "Begging pardon, but your clothes seem, um, comfortable," she remarked, making a point, I felt, not to stare too long.

I could understand why; probably from her standpoint, my single layer of clothing was tantamount to standing there in my underwear! 

Before I could answer, Jerry gave a short cough. "Shirley-belle, I was hoping that you might be able to lend Laura a couple dresses, at least for the time being; it looks like she'll be staying with us a while, and I want to make sure she doesn't feel out of place among us." If I didn't know any better, I would say that he might have just called me some kind of alien--but then again, I owned that such an assumption was as close to the truth as anyone would ever get, so I let it slide.

"Oh!" Shirley blinked. "Of course," she gave me a sympathetic smile. "Come with me, I'll show you the guest room and bring you some things."

[...]

[Shirley] returned with her arms full of calico and checked fabrics. 
"We are just about the same size, I think," she said. "These are some of last year's dresses; a bit worn, but they'll do nicely, I think!" She picked up a dress with tiny pink rosebuds on a field of forest-green. "Like this one." She held it under my chin. "Ooh!" she gushed. "Laura, I think this is definitely the color for you! Try it on!" 
The sleeves came down to my elbow, and puffed out at the shoulder. By folding up the sleeve of my jumpsuit back up to my shoulder, I could slip the dress on over it and no one would be the wiser. 
Before I could put it on, though, Shirley pulled out a series of wooden hoops covered by a voluminous linen petticoat. 
"Here, you'll need this to keep the skirts from getting underfoot."
I stared askance at the contraption. "Oh no," I said. "Where I'm from, we don't really need those things--"
Shirley's eyebrows came straight up her forehead. "Don't need them? Yes, and I suppose most girls in this strange place of yours walk around in long underwear as you do!" She gave a little laugh and placed a hand on my arm. "Don't you worry, Laura; I've been wearing hoops ever since I was a little girl. I know exactly how to tie them so you won't feel a thing!"
Meekly, I acquiesced to her recommendation, and after the hoops came the dress, which proved to consist of a lot more fabric than I anticipated.
Shirley finished fastening the row of tiny buttons along my spine, and gave my shoulders an excited little push.
"Oh, turn around, I want to see it!" she begged.
I did, and though there was no mirror, the glowing grin on her face was enough. She was right about the hoops, too. The skirt of the dress hung gracefully over it, and the lace trim just barely skimmed the floor as I took a few practice steps.
"Oh my stars, don't you look like a fine young lady now!" she gasped.

[...]

Speaking of where you come from," Jerry broke the silence with the words that made my skin go all cold and clammy. "I don't believe you ever explained to me where precisely that is. I know it's not the State Penitentiary--so where are you really from, Laura?" He rested his elbows on the arm rests and leaned his fingertips against one another, like a long, peaked roof.

[...]

"As you say, I haven't come from a very long ways away," I said. "I only started walking this morning, from my family's home in the bluffs," I jerked my thumb in the correct direction. "We've lived there pretty much on our own for a few years, until..." I let my voice fade off as if tortured by the memory of something traumatic--but what was really torturing me in that moment was trying to come up with a suitable scenario that made sense for a girl like me, dressed like I was, to be walking all by herself in the cliffs!

"Until what?" Jerry challenged. He wasn't going to let me off easy. "Did Big Tom and his bandits raid your homestead in the mountains?"

I nodded, still keeping the pitiful expression on my face. The manufactured tale came tumbling out of my mouth. "They attacked just the other night, just as we were sitting down to dinner. Father heard shouting, and went to see what was the matter, and when he opened the door, there was our modest vegetable garden, in flames. He grabbed the gun and went out to defend himself, while Mother and I hid in a room at the back of the house. We heard gunshots, and the next thing we know, the bandits are swarming the house, looting and looking for us." I forced myself to picture this fictional scene, playing up the drama to produce the expected emotional response. I kept my eyes wide, testifying to the horror of it all. "Of course they came into the room and knew we were there right away, but Mother stood up to them. She burst out of our hiding place, yelled at me to run, and grabbed the kerosene lantern by the bed, smashing it on the floor." I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and I just kept thinking about how I would feel if I witnessed my own parents, dying at the hands of a bunch of heartless thugs. "Everything else that happened that night was a blur. I got out of the house while the bandits were all shouting at the fire that was spreading all over the place. I remember seeing the horses waiting for the riders, and although I hadn't really ever ridden a horse before, I know I did try." I took a deep, calming breath, and continued. "It's a lot harder than it looks in the movies, to just get up and ride a horse, let me tell you! It wasn't a few yards before the horse bucked me off, and I had to run the rest of the way, to get away from those bandits and the burning house and my dead parents..." I blinked and returned to the present scenario, which honestly didn't seem any more real than the story I'd just made up in my head. "And at last I found my way to Phantom Gulch, where you saved my life from a runaway wagon."

Jerry, who hadn't said a word this whole time, waited until we were seated and Shirley filled our plates to finally respond.

"That was some tale, Laura," he began slowly, and I wondered if I had made a mistake in assuming he would believe such a wild story. "I am most impressed at how you can come through all of that relatively unharmed. I just have one question." Uh-oh! Here it came; had I put in too much detail, or not enough?

Jerry locked eyes with me over his steaming plate and asked. "What is this movies you mentioned, and what does it have to do with riding a horse?"

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

A Writer's Tale Featured Excerpts:

Book 1--The Dragon's Quest: "START HERE" ---- "The Hunt Before Nightfall" ---- "An Underwater Rescue" ---- "A Dragon and His Name" ---- "Loose the Gryphon"

Book 2--The Commander's Courage: "An Aliian Encounter" ---- "Two Truths And A Lie" ---- "The Grand Tour" ---- "Technical Difficulties" ---- "At Your Service" ---- "Mystery Meat(less)" ---- "Lockdown"

Book 3--The Sheriff's Showdown: "Welcome to Phantom Gulch" and "Tru and Pru"

Reader's Review: "An Unexpected Brew" by J. E. Mueller

Synopsis from Amazon:

A modern magical retelling of the classic Cinderella tale. After years of working at the family coffee shop under her step-mom's rule, Arnessa longs for something more. She dreams of leaving her small town to attend a bigger college where she can really learn her magic. As hope slowly seems to fade, a charming stranger offers to help her with her studies, and turns her fears into a reason to stand up for herself. 

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My Review:

What a cute story! I went in expecting a fun and sweet contemporary fairy tale adaptation. I’d read some of Mueller’s other fantasy works and enjoyed her sweet style. She definitely does family dynamics very well.

An Unexpected Brew is, of course, the tale of Cinderella. All the beats and references are there: Young woman under the care of an overbearing step-mother who doesn't really care about her at all, preferential treatment for the step-mom's own daughter, and a prom/ball situation that is the key event of the story. What I didn’t quite expect was the world-building. Arnessa is a smart and capable young woman, forced to put up with an overbearing step-mom and step-sister Diamond who constantly perceive Arnessa as an inconvenience and sometimes actually go out of their way to remind her of that on a daily basis. 

I loved the casual role of magic in this urban fantasy world. Arnessa uses spells to enchant the teas she brews at the cafe where she works (much like another urban fantasy heroine I enjoy very much!) and she’s taking magic classes to improve her skills at illusions. Along comes the handsome and talented Vincent, and suddenly Arnessa has someone besides her best friend Callie who makes her feel like she’s actually worth something in the world. But will it be enough, or will her step-mother’s bullying overwhelm her?

Of course, knowing the story of Cinderella as deeply as I do, the plot twists were about as deep as a Disney Channel movie. But, like a beloved, campy fantasy film, I felt entertained even though I could reasonably predict what would happen next. It’s a fast read, the scenes are simple, but they’re packed full of heart and you definitely want to keep reading all the way to the very end! 

An Unexpected Brew wins the whole *****5 STARS***** rating because it’s just so adorable I can overlook any pacing or plot flaws, and I’ll throw in an Upstream Writer certified WHOLLY RECOMMENDED endorsement because it’s a clean read and perfect for someone who just wants a quick, light fantasy retelling that hits all the right notes and doesn’t cut too deeply. (Definitely read Mueller’s other works for that kind of experience!)

Further Reading: (Also By The Author/Fairy Tale Retelling/Urban Fantasy)

A Tune Of Demons Series--J. E. Mueller
       -Fire's Song 
       -Spirit's Lullaby

Talented Series--Amy Hopkins
     -A Drop of Dream 
     -A Dash of Fiend 
     -A Splash of Truth 
     -A Promise Due 

Verona: The Complete Mermaid Tales--Pauline Creeden
       -Scales 
       -Submerged 
       -Salt 
       -Surfacing

-Dreamtime Dragons--Dreamtime Fantasy Authors 

-Severance--M. A. Smith

-The Wendy--Erin Michelle Sky

Wonderland Guardian Academy Series--Pauline Creeden
       -Red The Wolf Tracker 
       -Belle The Beast Tamer 

-Wolves And Daggers--Melanie Karsak 

-Beauty and Beastly--Melanie Karsak

-Selkie's Song--Kimberly A. Rogers

Serial Saturday: "The Last Inkweaver" Part 10

Part 10

"The Wall"

Sworn duty... protect with walls... My mind swirled with the sound of my mother's words, mixed with other unfamiliar voices as I laid the dishes on the table. Out beyond the walls--What is beyond The Wall?

I blinked and shook my head as a memory of seeing The Wall came up in my mind again. I could picture it clearly and recall exactly how I had felt, standing in the road and looking at it, but at the same time, I also remembered standing in that very same spot, back when there was no wall there... The day I played with Terra in her little yellow dress.

"What are you thinking about, Callista?" Mother asked, coming to set the sizzling, steaming bowl of roasted squash upon the table.

I shrugged. "I was trying to remember when they built The Wall."

Mother set the bowl on the table and searched my face with a worried crease on her brow. "You were so young--I don't think you ever made it that far through town. It's not a very nice place for children." She waved me quiet as Father walked in.

[...]

"And what about you, Callista?" he asked. "Are you looking forward to completing your training and becoming a Tutor?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure how I feel about it," I answered. "Part of me acknowledges that yes, this would be the next logical step in my educational pathway, but another part of me wonders if I couldn't just compete the same course of study here at Mirrorvale's Academy--why go to a Finishing School at all, if that's the case?"

Father tilted his head back and gave a short laugh. "That's my practical, conscientious girl! I don't think you need to be so nervous about leaving Mirrorvale--it's not as if no one ever does it. People come and go at will all the time! Your mother and I even visited a Factory Market way out in Yondar once, when you were just a baby. You have nothing to fear as long as you stay around people who can protect you."

"That's just what I said!" Mother chimed in.

Nothing to fear... Fear builds walls... Who built The Wall? Whispered a voice in my ear, as soon as Father finished speaking. I braced myself--would I really slip into a vision right here in front of my parents? Who built The Wall? Why is there fear? Fear the Wall--who built The Wall?

Louder the questions came, and more insistent. I opened my mouth to change the subject--maybe I could ask if the charges against Terra's parents had been lifted. Instead, I heard myself ask, "Why did we build The Wall?"

Father set aside his fork as Mother gave a little splutter in the midst of drinking.

"The Wall?" he echoed. "Hmm, I believe it was built for our protection."

"But why is it only protecting one area?" I pressed. Why did my parents speak as if they had something to hide from me? The Scholars, I could understand; they were responsible for what and how we learned, and they could not deviate from the established material, or they would risk losing their jobs. My parents, however, should have no such fear hanging over them--it wasn't as if I would report them to the authorities for things said in a private conversation in our home. Was there something more than Wordspinners that threatened the safety of Gramble?

The tension on my father's face relaxed, and he shrugged, nursing his mug of hot cider. Mother left the table to heat some water for tea. "Beats me," he said in answer to my question. "I would have thought the Academy might tell you more about The Wall, in the lessons about Mirrorvale's history. Why do you expect us to know about it?"

I wagged my head and began clearing the dishes from the table. "That's the thing: in all of our History lessons, the lectures are all about Gramble as a whole, or about the bigger cities. It's not Mirrorvale's history, it's Gramble's. I don't know if they discuss Mirrorvale in greater detail in any of the Economics or Business classes, but I know that all I've learned about Mirrorvale has been explained within the context of other municipalities, never Mirrorvale alone."

[...]

Father eyed me closely. "I've definitely seen walls in other towns our size," he remarked. "I suppose when they started the building The Wall, some people assumed the masons would continue stretching it all the way around, even though it wasn't like we were in any danger, being so far removed from any other town. When they built it up in only that one spot, though, I guess you can say that people understood finally why it had to be built, and they stopped asking questions." 

[...]

Mother stared staring at me with a gentle smile on her face.
"What is it?" I asked, fighting the sudden urge to squirm in my seat.
"You were always such an inquisitive girl, always wondering things, asking questions, and learning as much as you could about any little thing you heard, saw, tasted, smelt, or touched. Anything you encountered, you wanted to know more about, as if taking things at face value wasn't enough." She reached out and clasped my hand. "That's what I always admired about this sweet, gentle girl I raised." Her smile dimmed a little. "But now that you're faced with the potential of going out on your own," she continued, "I need to warn you: don't let your curiosity take you away from the things you know and the beliefs you've built up here."
I squinted. "What do you mean, take me away?"
Mother inhaled slowly through her nose. "What I mean to say is, Callista, if you give into these inclinations too much, I fear that you could fall prey to bad influences without even realizing it."
"Bad influences?" I echoed. "Falling prey? Mother, I am practically an adult of marriageable age! What sort of blind ninny do you think I am?"
"I don't think you're blind at all, nor a ninny!" Mother protested. "I just know from experience how danger can crop up in all sorts of ways, and evil lurks to lure you off of the proven path, the one that others have tested and tried. Here in Mirrorvale, your elders have taken the initiative to guard the next generation against negative influences, so you may not have encountered them at all, not really--but out there, you won't be so sheltered."
My tea had gone cold. I left the table to pour it out. "What are you saying, Mother? That you just want me to accept what my elders tell me without question?"
"Callista, please stop trying to twist my words." She stood to join me in the kitchen. I didn't look at her for a while, but Mother wrapped her arms around me and drew me close. 
"I'm trying to say that if you stray too far in this path of indulging your whims of curiosity, you will find only doubt and uncertainty, which are dangerous for your mental stability. The best way to avoid that is to follow the proven and tried methods that other people have already laid out."
I heaved a deep sigh. Why did I get the feeling that my parents were just feeding me answers to get me to stop searching and questioning? "I just want to be certain of the truth," I muttered.
Mother stroked my hair as we stood together in the kitchen. "I know, child, I know. You've never coped well with the least amount of confusion, even when it's just a matter of abnormal hypotheticals. That is what you must learn to control, if you want to be successful in presenting as a competent individual. Doubt makes you susceptible to lies."
I pulled back from her. "But--"
"Callista, listen to me." Mother took my shoulders and stared me straight in the eyes. "Waywardness doesn't have to look like outright rebellion, like starting a fight or arguing with your superiors. Evil can take a subtle form sometimes, one that appears to give you all the answers you've been looking for... But that is just to trick you into thinking that such deviation is worth pursuing, worth abandoning the safety and protection built around you." She paused as I cast a glance around the house, thinking of The Wall again.
When my gaze returned to her face, Mother begged me, "Callista, you must not give in to that, because as soon as you compromise once, the evil takes hold and destroys you from the inside, spreading its effects to everything around you. By the time you realize it's there, it's too late and you've gone too far to ever return things to the way they were."

[...]

I couldn't help it. That tight, choking feeling, like swallowing campfire smoke, wrapped itself around my throat. 

Evil drags you away... whispered the voice in my head. Subtle... believe the truth... truth is subtle... dressed in lies... questions are lies... being lied to...

"All right!" I snapped, rubbing my temples. "I won't ask too many questions, and I'll do my best to comply with directions from here on out."

Mother nodded. "It's for the best, I hope you know that, Callista."

I picked my cape up off the handle of my bedroom door. "Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Callista."

Standing in my bedroom, I again felt the lateness of the night weigh on me. I tossed my cape into the wardrobe and barely swapped my day clothes for my sleeping shift before I fell into bed and went right to sleep.

I immersed into another memory. I was young. The light from the fire in the hearth spilled through my partially-open door. Someone knocked at our front door. I could hear many voices outside my window, and metal clashing, and I smelled burning pitch that wasn't our firewood. The sound of Father's voice brought me out of bed and over to my door.

"Rubin! Rubin, come out here with us!"

"Eidan," my father replied. "What is the matter? It is well after curfew. What are you doing so late?"

"Curfew is waived when the matter is urgent!" Eidan Juntep groused. The sound of Mother's footsteps drowned out part of his next words. "Too late... should have done seasons ago, then maybe she wouldn't have been able to--"

Mother opened her door and caught me listening.

"Callista!" she hissed. 

Father and Eidan turned as I scurried across the corner and into my mother's arms. "How dare you impose upon us like this!" She scolded the big man on our porch. "You've awakened our daughter!"

Father waved us back. "Take her into the bed with you and close the door, Vena," he instructed. "I'll handle this."

Mother laid a hand on his arm as I clung to her shoulder. "Don't do anything we'll both regret, Rubin."

He kissed her forehead. "I will just learn what the trouble is, and then I'm coming right back. I promise not to get involved."

Mother carried me back into her room, and we lay there under the blankets, together in the dark. I tried to relax, tried to close my eyes and feel safe in my mother's arms, but there was too much shouting, too much burning. Were they setting fire to the houses?

I was almost asleep when I heard Father come in. He and Mother whispered over me.

"Is she asleep?"

"I think she finally dozed off, poor thing. What is the meaning of such a rabble after dark?"

"It's the Weaver's fault."

Mother gasped. "What, the Wordspinner on the hill? No one has bothered her or solicited her services in many seasons--what can they possibly have against her all of a sudden?"

"Eidan says that word has got around, she's been luring the children away from their Academy lessons, filling their heads with nonsense that they don't need a proper education. No one can work out how she's done it, but she's somehow turned neighbors against one another, and many have decided that this isn't good for the community morale."

"Oh dear! I had no idea! What are they going to do?"

Suddenly, the clamor outside stopped, and I could clearly hear Father's hushed reply.

"They're driving her out tonight. She won't cause us any more trouble."

In the quiet, I heard a voice: strong, powerful, and sweet. I fell asleep before I could figure out what it said, but at least my present-day psyche concluded one thing: I didn't have to ask my parents or anybody about the reason the authorities built The Wall anymore. I already knew why.

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