Autumn Festival Chapter 5

The village on market-day was almost a completely different place. Instead of the quaint, sleepy town with the occasional meeting of neighbors, the place became almost a riot of activity as all the farmers, weavers and potters descended to show their wares. It was particularly special for the children of those more rural families, who on other days had no one but their brothers and sisters to play with. But on market day they could be heard shouting and screaming from a mile away.

Three raced past Quill-Weave and her maid as they approached from the forest.

"Oh!" the maid cried. "Look out!" as the two chasing crashed into her.

"'Scuse me!" one found the politeness to cry before he scrambled back to his feet and continued the chase.

"Well, nice to see they're not all humans out here," she said to Quill as they continued on towards the village square. "That was undoubtedly an elf boy. Are there any of us tailed-types around?"

"Afraid not. There is a group of Argonians that live nearer to the next town, but they don't come into town on a simple market day like today. Now for the festival they surely will. As for Khajiit, other than the travelling caravans there's none around here. And they know to stay away during a market day. The competition hurts their rates. But they'll have a presence at the festival too. It's quite a big thing, these festivals. I'll miss them."

"Hello Mistress!" said a young woman, walking with a more elderly lady.

"Hello Tammy. Hello Mrs. April."

The lady nodded while her younger companion stopped. "Oh! And who do you have with you?"

"Ah, this is my maid. She's helping me spruce up the tower, but we couldn't miss market day!"

"Well, glad to meet you," said Tammy, holding her hand out. A look of panic flashed over the Khajiit's face, uncertain of what to do here. She took the proffered hand and curtsied low, holding out her skirt with the other hand.



"Oh my, no. You needn't… We just shake hands around here," Tammy said, but was obviously delighted at the formality.

At that Mrs. April spoke. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said, smiling for the first time. "This Khajiit has manners. Something you young people wouldn't know anything about."

She held her hand out to the Khajiit. This time when she curtsied, the elderly lady did the same in return and her smile deepened.

"Pleased to meet you too," the maid said respectfully.

"Now that," said Mrs. April to her companion as they continued on, "is a respectable Khajiit."

The albino maid looked at Quill-Weave hopefully.

"Looks like you've made a friend. Mrs. April is a tough nut to crack around here. But if you keep doing that to everyone we meet the market will be closed by the time we get there. A handshake will do."

As they neared the market, the noise of the children and of people talking became more pronounced but the smells were what the maid really began to notice. The amalgam of the scents of spices, vegetables and flowers overpowered those of simple folk crowded together in such a small area.

"Come on, let's see what's for sale!" Quill smiled, taking her maid by the hand and drawing her to the first booth.

An hour later they had scoured the market, not only for things they needed either. Quill had splurged a little bit on a few small items that her maid had set her eyes on, in a quite-conscious effort to bridge the unspoken, but still uncomfortable gap that had developed between them since the other day.

For her part, the khajiit was the picture of the supplicant servant - never straying from her smiling and professional demeanor. No one who didn't know their special relationship would have detected anything was amiss. But by the end of their trip, with all their hands burdened with baskets and bags of goods, she did offer a genuine smile to Quill as they began the hike back to the Tower of Evil.

"Now let me take those from you, Mistress. I'll get them all put away and get started on dinner."

"You know, you really don't have to do all this! You're paid to be my maid, not my cook!"

"Ah, but this is my payment for the room and travel, Mistress! I don't get out of Kvatch much, you see. So this is very special. A vacation for me, you see? A chance to get out into the rural countryside I've never experienced. I'm quite happy to go over and above my normal duties for that!"

"Well, don't overdo it. This is supposed to be a vacation of sorts for you too. Are you having a good time?"

"Wonderful, Ma'am. Now I'll go out and get the stove going. I'll put a big kettle of water on too, so we can have a nice hot bath later. You go up and do your authoring thing and I'll let you know when dinner's ready. Will Mooky be joining us?"

Quill took off the helmet that was the major revision of her Evil outfit and set it on a coat rack near the door. "No. On market days he eats with his family."

Quill did as she was bade and went up to stare at her blank paper for an hour or two, but try as she might she couldn't get back into the book she was currently writing. Nonfiction was tough to write when distracted, and she was certainly that.

Instead of words, she turned her hand to drawing. Doodling really. She was no artist, but when you have a pen in hand and a blank paper in front of you, and the words just won't come, it is the natural thing to do.

Before she knew it she'd doodled a cat in a bathtub. She added an incongruous maid cap and smiled. She held the paper at arm's length against the waning light of the late-afternoon sun in the window and smiled, pleased with herself. It might not be true art in the proper sense of the word, but it pleased her anyway. True, the way her legs splayed over the tub's rim was far too wanton for reality. Perhaps she had exaggerated certain proportions a little as well. But the seductive, come-hither expression on the khajiit's face was sublime. Not bad for a doodle.



"Dinner's ready!" said a voice that was far, far too close at hand. It startled Quill and she lost her grip on her drawing, which naturally drifted right out of the window.

"Ahh!" screeched Quill-Weave, scrabbling for it till she nearly tumbled out of the window herself.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Ma'am! I didn't mean to startle you!" the maid said apologetically as they both watched the paper drift down to get caught on a treetop below. "Can you re-write it?"

Quill looked at her maid, now standing so close beside her she could smell the lilac perfume she'd bought from the market. At least she hadn't realized what was on the paper.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Yes, I can recreate it. Let's go eat! I'm starving!"