Luminous

10 - Fools' Week

Marin spent three days recovering in the birthing chamber. After a bath of sacred water, she emerged from Hild Cottage with her baby girl, purged of impurities, to the desperately waiting arms of the new father. The wee babe had her mother's crystal blue eyes, like purest water disturbed by a breeze and soothed by sunlight, and fine needles of golden hair.

The couple decided on Melodia Della for her name, honoring the heavenly arias that had eased her arrival. And, as if to bolster the choice, Crosset just as soon burst into a cacophony of song with the opening of Fools' Week, the annual festival celebrating the bounty of autumn—one last bout of merrymaking before the long slumber of winter.

The first days of the fest would feature a marketplace, dances around the bonfire, tall tales told around a gigantic cauldron of perpetual stew, pony races, pig chases, and contests to prepare a stockpile for the Fools' Games on the last day, like the Great Sausage Stuffing and the Great Apple Sorting.

Fools' Week was once Meya's favorite of the four fests, until her sixth year, when she was put in charge of the family pig. On the first morning of the week, Yorfus took the squealing Eerie away from the bawling Meya. Poor girl spent the rest of the fest slumped before Eerie's empty pen. Her siblings tried coaxing her into a bite of sausage from the race, hoping the taste of lard would wash away the guilt, and she glowered at the audacity of them.

Mirram and Alanna sat down with the distraught girl, gently explaining the necessity and offering one of her sisters' chores Meya could switch to. Instead, Meya committed to the post, resolved to give her pig the best care she could in its short life, while Mirram promised to leave the pig alive until after the festival.

Every year, Meya would accompany her sow to the slaughterhouse and sing her to sleep, so she wouldn't fear the blade. Naturally, all pigs in the vicinity would follow, and Yorfus and his apprentices, who would be so entranced, they would only shudder to their senses after Meya had slipped away, surrounded by snoring pigs and having no memory of what had ensued.

The final day before the holiday, Meya was lying in wait when Yorfus trudged past Hild Cottage, followed by a rowdy drove of pigs marked for death. His young apprentices brought up the rear with their poles and rattles, shooing the occasional curious one that had strayed back in line. She slipped through the gate and fell silently into step with the butcher.

Yorfus scowled at her.

"Whatche comin' along for? Ain't no place for yer Lord Hadrian baby," he snapped over the audible thock in his every other step.

Meya shrugged as she caressed her belly. "They'll be fine."

Yorfus snorted, then returned to his thoughts, grumbling sourly. He'd swapped his usual butchering apron for a clean tunic, as the smell of old blood might alert the pigs of what was to come. The handle of his beloved knife was too long for his pocket, though, and its blade too heavy, and it swung with every heave of his right leg.

"Wounnae mind her singing if she'd let us remember, Master," a jolly voice called from behind—Steffen, Yorfus's oldest apprentice.

He wore his brown hair in a fraying ponytail like Yorfus, but unlike his thin, haggard old master, he was round-faced and muscular, and just as tall. He was born the same year as Maro, and Meya often wondered why one so seemingly carefree would choose such a gruesome profession, but then again, appearances may be deceiving.

"I'll sing at the dance tomorrow night. Just be there if you want a snippet," she hollered over.

Steffen chucked his rod to his junior, then rushed over to her side.