Hunt for the Sun Children

Chapter 4 - Set

The Masquerade of the Dead was my least favorite holiday; I decided this resolutely as I approached the inner ring. The sound of lutes and drums and voices spilled forth and echoed off the stone walls, giving the songs a haunting edge. I tried not to think about the dead spirits present all around us as I hurried inside the Great Room, unable to shake the feeling that the songs sounded like their voices calling.

The decorations inside were stunning. Fabric leaves in all the shades of autumn hung from every sconce; ironic, given that the leafless handtrees were the only visible vegetation around Redbridge. Above our heads was a web of black ribbon that obscured the names engraved on the ceiling. I followed the trail of fabric to the balcony where the heads of the musicians were barely visible.

Not immediately recognizing anyone, I went straight for the food. One of the usual tables was left in place and hosted the traditional sugar-coated nuts and apple tarts, foods likely culled from Redbridge's taxes. Monthly, the school would send its two ships up and down the coast, collecting a percentage of crops and goods from each village and bringing them back for us. I ate better during my first month of training than I had my entire life.

"Excellent choices," Tallon said cordially, reaching around me to pour himself a glass of mulled wine. He was wearing a flaming red tabard and a matching mask. In combination with his orange hair, he looked like he was on fire, and, judging by the number of girls looking him up and down, he was. "Though, I must say, your lack of a mask is unacceptable."

I had almost forgotten I wasn't wearing one. "What do I do if I don't have one?"

"Go ahead and borrow one." Tallon nodded toward a giant wooden box I had missed near the entrance.

"Thanks for the tip."

"It's my duty." Tallon shrugged, but he was clearly proud of his vigilant mentoring.

The masks were shaped like leaves, sewn with beautiful autumnal colors. I fished through the pile and found one that complemented my tabard. It was a similar shade of orange, with brown stitching along the edges that matched my hair. I put on the mask and waited for something, though I wasn't sure what.

I was watching novices dancing, the whole thing an eclectic mishmash of regional styles, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around, bringing me face to face with another masked stranger.

"Wanna dance?" asked Cade. Her voice was low for a girl's and easily recognizable. That, and her mass of tangled hair was a giveaway.

"How'd you spot me so easily?"

"I cheated. Saw you pick up your mask," Cade admitted, smiling wryly. She tugged at my wrist. "And, you know, hair pure as dirt."

"...Thanks?"

"Not as poetic as it sounded in my head. Come on!"

Reluctantly, I allowed her to pull me through the crowd. The sea of leaves, every face unfamiliar, made me feel like I was lost amongst strangers.

We eventually stopped somewhere Cade deemed worthy and I halfheartedly held her hand and twirled to the echoing sounds of piquant lutes strumming away from the balcony above. I had always been fonder of casting than dancing, thus I lacked a certain graceful footing necessary to pull off the complex twirls and spins of most Bluffstown dances. Cade barely seemed to notice, however, and was consistently trying to twirl me faster and faster so that by the end of a song the room was spinning like a hot gust of swirling autumn leaves.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Last I recalled, Cade seemed pretty exhausted in class. "Maybe you should take a break."

"But I have dust!" she exclaimed gleefully, trying to pull me in for another dance. I shook her hands away.