The Blue Sword (Damar #2)(10)

They both laughed. "The Hillfolk are the best-kept secret in Daria," said Cassie. "I mean, we know they exist. Some of them come here - to the station, I mean - for the spring Fair." Harry looked at her. "Oh, surely Lady Amelia has told you about our pair," Cassie said. "After three months of the rains we come out of hiding and work off our foul temper by holding a Fair - "

" - where we sell to each other all the ridiculous little bags and bonnets and dolls and footstools that we've made during the rains to keep from going mad because we couldn't go out," Beth continued.

"Yes, most of it is nonsense. But everyone is very gay for the first two or three weeks after the rain stops. The weather is cool enough - the only time all year you can go out even at midday; and there're green things growing up from the ground, and everything you own is spread on the roofs and hanging from the windowsills, and they're green too," Cassie added with a grimace. "We decorate the streets and the square with paper flowers and real flowers, and banners and ribbons, and the whole town looks like it's on holiday, with the dresses and blankets hanging out everywhere. We do have real flowers here - besides the eternal pimchie - although nothing like what you're used to at Home, I daresay. Everything grows tremendously for two weeks, so for the third week, Fair week, everything is green and blossoming - even the desert, if you can believe it."

"Then of course the sun kills everything again. That's the fourth week. And you know what it's like here the rest of the time."

"Yes, but the Fair - everyone comes to the Fair. The Hillfolk too, a few of them, although never anyone very special. Certainly never the king. And it's not all the bead purses that our sort has been making in despair. There are always some really lovely things, mostly that the Darians themselves have made. Even the servants aren't expected to do as much, you know, during the rains. After the first few weeks you're far too cross yourself to give many orders to anyone else."

"But mostly the best things come up from the south. It's only Way up here that the weather's so ridiculous, but the south knows about our Fair, and the merchants know that when we break out of winter prison we're so mad with our freedom that we're fit to buy anything, so they come up in force."

"There are Fairs, or celebrations of spring of one kind or another, all around here, but ours is the biggest."

"Well," said Beth, "we've the biggest in things to buy and so forth; and we're the only Homelander station up here. But there're quite a number of Darian villages around here, and they take spring very seriously. Lots of singing and dancing, and that kind of thing. And they tell the most beautiful stories, if you can find someone to translate into Homelander. Which isn't often."

"We have singing and dancing too," said Cassie.

"Yes, I know," said Beth slowly; "but it's not the same. Our dancing is just working it off, after being inside for so long. Theirs means something."

Harry looked at her curiously. "You mean asking the gods for a good year - that kind of thing?"

"I suppose so," said Beth. "I'm not quite sure."

"No one will talk about anything really Darian to Homelanders," said Cassie. "You must have noticed it."

"Yes - but I'm new here."

"You're always new here if you're a Homelander," said Cassie. "It's different in the south. But we're on the Border here, and everyone is very aware that Freemen live in those Hills you see out your windows every day. The Darians that do work for you, or with you, are very anxious to prove how Homelander they really are, and loyal to all things Homelander, so they won't talk; and the others won't for the opposite reasons."

"You're beginning to sound like Daddy," said Beth.

"We've heard him say it all often enough," Cassie responded.

"But the Hillfolk," said Harry.

"Yes. The one thing I suppose we all have in common is a joy in those three short weeks of spring. So a few Hillfolk come to our Fair."

"They don't act very happy, though," said Beth. "They come in those long robes they always wear - over their faces too, so you can't see if they're smiling or frowning; and some of them with those funny patched sashes around their waists. But they do come, and they stay several days - they have the grandest horses you've ever seen. They pitch camp outside the station, and they always set guards, quite openly, as if we weren't to be trusted - "

"Maybe we aren't," murmured Cassie.

" - but they never sell their horses. They bring the most gorgeous tapestries, though, and embroidered sashes - much nicer than the cut-up ones they wear themselves. These they sell. They stalk around the edge of the big central square, the old marketplace, carrying all this vivid stuff, while the rest of us are laughing and talking and running around. It's a bit eerie."

"No it's not," said Cassie. "You listen to the stories too much."

Beth blushed. After a pause she said, "Do you see anything at the Residency?"

"No," said Harry. "What stories?"

There was another pause while Cassie looked at Beth and Beth looked at her pony's mane. "My fault," said Cassie presently. "We're not supposed to talk about them. Daddy gets really annoyed if he catches us. The stories are mostly about magic. Corlath and his people are supposed to be rotten with it, even in this day and age, and Corlath himself is supposed to be more than a little mad."