Larkspur Mittel: The Lark & Owl Trilogy

7 - Must Have A Peat Mouse

The trawler boy called out in a sing-song voice as he pushed his cart through the streets.

"Peat for sale! Skalla Mosse peat, warrrrm your feet... peat for sale!"

All the while, Hero had made herself as small as possible, circling her body around her satchel like a snail shell. Her head bumped against the cart basket bottom, her knees pressed against the sides, and she could barely breath under the cloth and peat bricks.

But once they started to move and gain some distance from the sound of the Hummerlad's low whistles, she started to relax, and to think about all that had happened.

First it was the clocker crow, the hideous poison dart in Aggie's neck, and now Croo Mickel and his ugly molls.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

The Hummerlads were after her, after the small globe she'd been given by the mysterious, northern lark woman in the desert.

But why?

Meanwhile, she hoped the boy who'd called himself Marcus knew where he was going. She had placed her fate in a trawler boy just a little older than herself, she thought, feeling very foolish.

She'd only known a few trawlers in her life, knew they were famous for their ballads and talent on the giga, the lyre-like instrument they played, and for their strange language. They brought peat and other goods to the cities, but mainly peat, and they camped out in their fen wagons by the Ru River, or in the market plaza, but mainly they kept to themselves, to their own families.

She peeked through the willow splints of the basket, and saw people walking by, making their way home as the Eve-song continued.

"Get your peat, delicious heat, peat for sale!"

He was clever, thought Hero, making it seem as though he were only doing his normal round of peat selling, pushing the basket cart and calling out.

She put her hand on her bag, over the round object inside.

Gaulus, she recalled the urgency in the lark woman's voice. She had to find Gaulus.

She closed her eyes, and imagined dinner soon being served in Wobash Cynders. Her stomach ached a little with hunger. She'd only had the bread roll since breakfast. Then she remembered Aggie's pale face and shivered in fear again.

Marcus stopped for a potential customer who asked his price.

"Six shakul?! For one brick?! That's double what it was a fortnight ago! What is going on? Have they all gone mad?!"

"Maybe. I've no idea, I'm jus' told what price to sell by," Marcus answered flatly.

"Thieves! The lot of you!" The man complained and walked away.

Marcus pushed the cart deeper into the southern district. They seemed to be going in circles, thought Hero, still bumping her head against the bottom and sides of the cart as he turned corners and avoided holes in the road until he finally stopped.

"Peat delivery for the Owl Council!" He cried out, glancing at a sleeping dog under the guard's chair. He stood at one of the side entrances to the Owl Council just under a stone archway.

"Who 'er you?" A gruff old Owl guard asked, "where's the old fella who usually comes?"

"He's ill. Hurt his leg they said, umm, a rash of sorts!" Marcus made a face, and scratched his own leg.

He wasn't a very good liar, thought Hero listening carefully.

"A rash?! Oh! But you haven't even bringed enough! That little mound'll do for a morning in 'ere, and not much else! I reckon they's a rationing now what with the price gone up so."