Valley of the Soul by Tamara Siler Jones

Author:Tamara Siler Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780553903034
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2006-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Kedder trotting on their heels, Lars and Jess sipped ciders and held hands as they looked over wares. They wore matching kerchiefs around their necks, second-place prizes from the three-legged race. Second place was just fine, as far as Lars was concerned. After Jess scrunched up her skirt so he could tie her bare ankle, knee, and lower thigh to his, then let him undo everything after the race, last place would have been worth it.

After examining carved staves, they moved on to a confectioner’s booth. They found slivers of marzipans and caramels and hard candies, all artfully arranged on silver platters and offered for sampling, if the customer appeared to be in the mood to buy. Jess showed a definite, almost swooning, preference for caramel-covered nougat, especially with pecans. Lars bought a half-box assortment for two crown. He received a kiss on the way to the next booth, where the vendor was selling a wide and colorful selection of hats.

Not utilitarian or dress hats like Jess’s grandparents used to make, but jester hats, bard hats, silly hats, and oddly shaped monstrosities, all in brilliant colors. Hats with ribbons streaming behind. Hats with bells. Hats with bouncy feathers. They tried a few on for size, laughing at each other’s selections and their own reflections in mirrors.

“That’s so manly,” Jess said, giggling as she arranged droopy belled flaps in purple and yellow over Lars’s shoulders. He shook his head and jingled.

“That style has been very popular this morning,” the proprietor said. “I’ve sold four of them already.”

“It is comfortable,” Lars said as he shook his head again, jingling the bells at Jess. She squealed and ticked his nose with a bright pink feather.

“Only four and a half crown,” the proprietor said. “And each hat is unique. There are no others of that style in those colors.”

Lars couldn’t imagine actually wearing the odd thing. “I can’t. Thanks.” As soon as he set it on its perch, a farm boy snatched it up and tried it on.

Jess broke a nougat in two and they shared it as they left the hat shop. She took two steps toward the next stall and her breath fell out in a rush. “Ferrotypes? Here?”

Lars grinned. “Looks like it.” Nobles, castle officials, and well-to-do farmers lined up to sit before the camera with stiff postures and stern faces. Lars nodded hello as he walked with Jess to examine the sample pictures on display.

Some of the samples were pocket-size but most were as large as a half target. Two were nine sets of the same image on a single rectangle of metal. At fifteen crown apiece, Lars figured he could manage a pair of the small ones. One for each of them.

Jess admired the samples as the ferrotypist seated his next subject, head accountant Jelke, positioning him into a grim and haughty pose. Lars blinked at the bright light that flashed over Jelke with a pop, then the ferrotypist pulled a slim box from the back of his camera and set it on a growing stack.

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