Shelley Thomas - The Seven Tales of Trinket

“And they say I see the future,” Feather said.

“But they will follow you. They will bring you back.”

“Again you are probably right.”

“But why?”

Finally she looked at me, smiling as if I were a very simple child. “Trinket, when you are born, it is your destiny to die. It is everyone’s future. Does that mean you should curl up in a ball and just let death take you?”

Puzzled, I shook my head. I did not like talking about dying.

“Of course not, you go out and live anyway, even if the end is inevitable,” she said.

“But—”

“So maybe they catch me, maybe not, but should I just curl up and let my father sell me to a husband for gold, or bargain away my sight as he sees fit… or should I create my own future?”

“What did you see, when your father touched your shoulder?” I asked.

“You do not have to be a seer to know what my father plans for me. He has made the arrangements already. He will not admit it, but I saw it—a foul tyrant across the water waits for me. Whether my father has promised me as a wife or a slave to such a beast, I do not know. But I shall be neither.”

It was silent in the tent as Feather placed items in her bag. Bracelets, colorful hair ties, and necklaces jingled as she untangled them, wrapped them in cloth and put them on the top.

“I might need to trade these,” she explained. “For meals and such.”

“Won’t you use your gift?”

“Of course, I am not a fool. I will use the gifts I have been given. But I must be quiet for a while, lest my father hear rumors of a fortune-telling girl.”

I paused, wondering how Feather could leave her family. Did she not know how lucky she was to still have a family? Then I thought of her father, with the hairy caterpillar eyebrows, who always scowled. Perhaps a hideous father was worse than no father at all.

“What did you see when you took Lothar’s hand? I know you saw something.”

Why did I want to know? I could not answer, but I needed to understand. Thomas, on the other hand, felt the need to go. I could see him pacing outside, for he did not feel it was right to enter a lady’s tent without permission.

“His wife has died in childbirth. He will be angry. He will rage at those he left behind to watch over her. Violence. But then…”

“Then?”

“He will feel great remorse. His heart breaks and he vows to do kind deeds. Perhaps, after time passes, I will seek him out.”

“That seems like a lot. Have you ever seen so much before?”

“Never. Perhaps our lives are intertwined and that is why I could see. Mayhap his future lies beside my own.”

I felt my eyes widen. Feather was choosing Lothar as her future husband.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she chided. “Remember, I believe in making my own fortune.” Feather came to me then and hugged me. She also gave me a few coins from a small purse she wore around her neck. “’Tis best if we don’t leave together. They will assume you and Thomas stole me away against my will and think nothing of slitting your throats to get me back.” Feather hid her bag beneath her cot. “I will leave in three days’ time. My father will be so busy with the preparations for the tyrant’s arrival, he will not even notice.”

“Goodbye, Feather. You are the first friend I have met on my travels.” I felt the heat of tears behind my eyes.

“I am sure I shall not be the last.” She smiled, then looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. She took my palm. “Would you like to know?”

Did I want to know? Did I want to know what the future held for me?

Or did I want to make my own future?

“Don’t tell me,” I whispered, curling my hand in a fist before I could change my mind.

“I foresaw you would say that.” She laughed.

I turned toward the tent flap, hoping I had decided correctly.

But Feather could not help herself. “You will find your answers, you know,” she said.

“The truth? I will find the truth?”

“That is not exactly what I said, Trinket. I said you would find answers. Every question has more than one answer. Every story more than one ending.”

She held up seven fingers. “Were I you, Trinket, I would make my own future. Find your own tales for the telling. Seven. Being a teller is in you. I saw it there.”

I hugged her as she hummed the lullaby for me, my father’s lullaby, one last time, strong and true so I could carry it with me in my heart. “’Twas his song for you, was it not?”

“Finally,” Thomas grumbled as I came out of the tent, but he was not really angry.

I did not answer him. Instead, I turned back to Feather, still unsure.

“We will meet again,” the Gypsy King’s daughter said, following me out. “And do not worry that the guards will come after you. I will tell them I foresee a plague from the plants in the forest. Those having to drop their breeks when nature calls will suffer from boils erupting on their cursed backsides!” She laughed. “That will stop them.”

We regarded each other one last time, neither of us willing to say the word goodbye . Strangely enough, Feather grabbed Thomas into an awkward embrace. He blushed, and she whispered something to him, but I did not hear.

She returned to her tent, the tent flap closed, and Thomas and I walked out of the Gypsy camp.

I found myself glancing backward every few minutes, and Thomas doing the same. The Gypsy camp had been the first real stop on our adventure, and now it disappeared into the trees as if it had never existed. We did not leave empty-handed, though, for I carried with me a song from long ago. And perhaps a tale as well.

Thomas was unusually quiet. I caught him peeking at me from under his unruly locks, then looking away quickly.

“What is it, Thomas?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie.

“Feather said something to you. I know she did.”

Thomas did not respond.

“Just tell me.”

Thomas fidgeted, kicking hard at any stone unfortunate enough to be in his path. “You said you did not like fortunes. You said you didn’t want to know.”

Ah, ’twas a prophecy then.

“’Tis not fair if you know something that I do not know, especially if it is about me.” Whether I wanted to know or not no longer mattered. I could not let Thomas bear the burden alone.

“It’s not about you. It was about me. She said… she said to watch over you.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. So far, Thomas needed much more watching over than I did.

“And she said you would need my ear for listening,” he said with a bit of confusion. “I dunno what she meant by that. I already have to listen to you all the time.”

I punched him in the arm, but not too hard.

“And she said that I would do great things.” His cheeks flushed as he told me.

“You will, Thomas. I am sure you will.”

“And she said to follow the song. The lullaby. Follow the lullaby.”

’Twas my first song, and there was nothing fancy about it. Just a heart’s own voice. For that is what a song is, even if there is only a tune and no words at all.