Coracle, Chapter Nine: Evie of the Valley

With the dragon preoccupied, Evie turned her attention to Marda. “So another early bird! Just like me! Where’s your coracle? Oh, I see.” The girl jogged to it and crouched, touching its rim. “Wow, it’s pretty. I didn’t think to stick flowers in mine.”

“Mama said they’d bloom if I did. Do you know where I’m supposed to put it?”

“Oh, sure. Here, give me that blanket and the basket, and you can carry it up with you. Don’t worry, it’s not far.”

“All right.” Marda glanced at her and added, “I’m Marda. Marda Quincesinger, from Temperance Island.”

“Really? We’re islesisters!” Evie bumped her arm with a fist. “I’m Evie of the Valley of Running Horses, but no one says it that way, it’s waaaay too long. We just call it the Valley. My family’s horsebreeders, of course. You’re… farmers? Quinces, right? What does singing have to do with it?”

“The fruit doesn’t ripen unless you sing to it,” Marda says. “So, yes. We’re farmers! With an orchard. It’s been in Mama’s family for generations.”

“Neat!” Evie pointed up the path with her chin, her arms busy with Marda’s basket and afghan. “This way.”

Marda followed her from the broken edge of the island, toting her coracle on her back, her bag bumping her thigh as she walked. She certainly hoped she wasn’t far from wherever they were going; even though the weather was cool and the breeze brisk, the sun on her shoulders made her think she’d be sweating before long.

“So,” Evie said, “I’ve been here about a week and I’ve rambled all over the place and it’s got so many interesting little nooks and crannies! Also, some impressive stuff, but what do you expect of the Outremers, right? This is the school built by the first Companions. Anyway! We’re on the main island here, with the hall and the cathedral and the classrooms and the teachers’ quarters. That’s where we sleep too, as postulants. We’re all postulants until we go through the Vigil and the saints make their appearance, and then next year we’ll be squires and sleep in a much more interesting building over there…” She pointed vaguely. “On its own island.”

“How many islands are there here?” Marda asked, overwhelmed.

“Six major,” Evie said. “The one we’re on, which is in the middle. Then the squires’ tower gets one, and the journeymans’ tower. There’s an island with a stable and training field—and it’s a great stable too, they’ve got some amazing horses there—and another island for the farms and fields. And of course, the Lighthouse has its own.”

“There’s an actual Lighthouse?” Marda said.

Evie snickered. “Of course there is. Why else would they mention it?”

“Symbolism?” Marda offered. “You know. All the ‘this stands for that’ we hear in stories?”

“Well that symbol is as big around as two grain silos and taller than a dragon—a real one, not a little one like Aeli. You’ll see.”

And Marda did when they reached the top of the hill. She gasped at the view. The Outremers’ school was like a miniature of the world of Coracle, with its verdant islands floating in close proximity. The cathedral made the church in Goldmeadow look like a toy, and the towers Evie had mentioned were majestic edifices of stone and stained glass. The islands were connected by bridges, or tinier stepping-stone islands with little gardens and statues. And there was a Lighthouse. Except…

“Why isn’t it… you know. Lighthousing?”

Evie glanced toward it and shrugged, dismissive. “They say it’ll light when the Savior returns. Or there’s a big enough crisis.” She grinned. “Maybe it’ll go off while we’re here and we’ll get to save the world!”

“I’d rather not,” Marda said, uncomfortable. “If the world’s in enough trouble to need the kind of saving the Savior did the first time around, we probably won’t want to be living in it.”

Evie laughed. “Are you kidding?” And then paused. “Wait, you’re not kidding?”

“No?” Marda answered. Abashed, she added, “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Wow,” Evie said, wide-eyed. “What are you doing here if you don’t want adventure?”

“I do want adventure!” At least, she thought she did. “But… ‘saving the world’-sized adventure might be a little too much adventure for me. I’d rather something… you know. Marda-sized.”

Evie grinned. “Aww, you’re modest! That’s so nice. I’m not modest at all. Maybe I’ll learn that from you… Pop always said I could stand to learn some humility.”

Marda was almost entirely sure she wasn’t modest, but she didn’t want to contradict Evie, who was… well. She was so confident! If the Lighthouse did start shining, Marda could easily imagine Evie riding to the rescue of an entire world. Maybe being around people like Evie would transform Marda into a world-saving sort of girl herself. And that would be good, right? Except that she sort of liked herself the way she was, and even Evie had said there was something good about her modesty.

If it was, in fact, modesty, and not terror of failure… or worse, responsibility…

“You look a little pale,” Evie said, squinting at her. “Are you all right?”

“Just nervous. That’s natural, right?” Marda smiled weakly at her new friend.

“Oh sure. Nerves are totally natural.” Evie glanced up at the sky as Marda started to relax, and finished, “At least, that’s what my mom says. I’ve never been nervous in my life.”

Marda couldn’t help it; Evie’s reply was so Evie somehow that she started laughing. Evie grinned at her. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” Marda said. “At least, if you were trying to take my mind off my worries?”

“Yep.”

“Then it worked,” Marda said, shaking her head, but still smiling. “Thanks, Evie.”

The girl beamed at her, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You’re welcome.”