“Shall I administer the cure?” he bellowed at the crowd.
“Save him!” a woman screamed.
“Let him die,” a man yelled. “Serves him right for being such a gull.”
“No, cure him!”
The young man collapsed on the ground and curled up in a ball.
“Give him the cure!” someone hollered.
Several joined in the chant. “Cure him! For heaven’s sake, give him the cure!”
Caithren twisted to see Jason’s face, but he didn’t look alarmed. His arms tightened around her as he watched over her head. She turned back to the toad-eater, who was now rolling on the grass in screaming agony.
“Cure him! Cure him! Cure him!”
The mountebank knelt slowly and cradled the young man’s head in one dirty hand. He shoved the bottle between his lips, encouraging the man to drink. Two swallows later, the man’s body relaxed and stilled on the ground.
In silence, the crowd waited. And waited.
The man drew a sudden breath, and his eyes popped open. His hands went to his stomach and felt around. He raised his head, then sat up, then stood up and did a little jig.
“It’s a miracle!” he cried. “The miracle cure works!” He skipped around the circle, snatched the bottle, and took another swig. “Give me no shilling,” he told the doctor, “but an extra bottle of this Universal Healing Potion.” When Dr. Miracle handed him a second bottle, he clutched them both to his chest as though they were made of diamonds, not glass.
The mountebank pulled more bottles from the bag. “Who else would like a bottle? Only one shilling for my miracle cure!”
As people jostled to buy, Jason pulled Caithren from the crowd. “What do you think?”
“Very entertaining,” she declared with a smile.
“Entertaining?”
His look of confusion didn’t fool her. “The toad is in that young man’s pocket,” she said. “I wonder how much the mountebank pays him for each bottle sold?”
“I wonder how else I’ve underestimated you,” Jason returned. But he didn’t look displeased. “Should we buy tomorrow’s breakfast and dinner now?” Low in the sky, the sun streaked the wispy clouds with shades of pink and red. “It’s getting late, and we’d best make an early start if we want to outpace Gothard.”
And the fun was over, Caithren supposed with an inward sigh. She needed to find her brother and go home.
Before she could even nod her assent, Jason went into action. He purchased a burlap sack from one vendor, then wove through the market filling it with selections from others: bright yellow cheese, tart pickles wrapped in parchment, and small round loaves of bread. From a produce stand he chose apples and costly oranges while Caithren amused herself watching two lambs in a pen, gamboling after their mother. She didn’t like to think they might be someone’s supper tonight.
Across from the fruits and vegetables sat a table laden with leather goods. Belts were arranged in neat rows, alongside coin pouches, scabbards, and luggage.
And by itself to the side sat one magnificent backgammon board.
It was a sight to behold. Black leather pips alternated with gray, the whole embellished with scrolling designs stamped in gold leaf. Two dice, fashioned of the blackest jet, lay as though just spilled from their matching leather cup. The markers were carved of jet and ivory.
Caithren smiled to herself, remembering hours on end spent playing with Cameron on Da’s scarred wooden set. Jason wandered to her side, his burlap sack bulging with what she reckoned must be food enough for a week. “Do you know how to play?” he asked.
“I do.” She squinted up at him. “I wager I could beat you.”
“Do you, now?” He studied her, his features schooled into serious lines. But his green eyes danced. “And what might you be willing to wager?”
She blushed furiously at the tone of his voice. “I haven’t any money—”
“—thanks to me,” he finished for her in a singsong manner. “Well, I expect we’ll come up with something.” Once again, he spilled coins from his pouch and motioned the vendor over.
She’d meant to have a match then and there, not for him to buy the board. She should have known better than to even look at it. Though she gasped at the price, he didn’t react. After closing the deal, he presented her with the set, picked up his sack, and announced that he was thirsty.
She carried the board across her forearms, like it was a king’s scepter.
Without asking if she wanted any, Jason bought white foamy drinks for them both. “Syllabub,” he said, leading her to a bench.
She frowned into her goblet, then sipped. “Oooh,” she breathed, sipping again. It was the lightest, creamiest, sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. “It would set the heather alight!” she exclaimed. “It’s wonderful!”
Laughing, he reached to wipe a foam mustache from atop her lip. Heat rushed to her face, and she turned away. Sipping their refreshments, they watched silently as other fairgoers paraded past. Cait balanced the backgammon set on her lap, careful not to let any syllabub drip on the fine leather. She still couldn’t believe he’d bought it.
The sun was setting, casting the horizon in brilliant colors. As it sank below, a brief green flash lit the sky.
Part of her wishing the evening would never end, Caithren sighed. “Tomorrow will be a clear day.”
He sipped from his drink. “And how do you know this?”
“Didn’t you see the green ray? They say it portends of fair weather. Have you never heard the verse?” She drank, then licked her lips. “Glimpse ye e’er the green ray,” she quoted, “Count the morrow a fine day.”
“You’re slipping. I actually understood that one.”
Smiling, she touched her amulet. “It’s also said that to see the green is to gain powers of seeing into the feelings of your heart, and thus not to be deceived in matters of love.”
“Hmm. Sounds like yet another superstition.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t say I believed it.”
He took a long swallow, then rubbed his bare upper lip with a finger.
