The gypsies had arrived. It was a warm, sunny day, just as summer poked its head out from the edge of spring. Colors flew in reds, oranges and purples on tapestries of gold and silver. Housewares of all kinds appeared from the deceptively large brightly colored wagons. Shoes and jewelry were laid out on beautiful blankets upon the grass in the festival field. The air was alive with the sound of children playing and mothers chasing them as they went about their mischief. Women selling wares sat on homemade stools near their blankets on the grass, waiting for the first Mothers to arrive to shop.
One slight girl, barely woman, walked around absentmindedly browsing the blankets at the back of the field. The tapestry was full of sparkling anklets. She looked barely seventeen. Her brown hair was sleek, cascading around her shoulders and down her back. Her face and hands drank in the sun and seemed to linger, darkening the hue to match her light brown hair. Her eyes were green as the forest on a sunshiny day, and her nose small and dainty like her tiny frame.
She greeted the owner of the jewelry.
“How much is this?” she smiled sweetly at the girl. The gypsy maiden was young, most likely in her late teens. Her hair was dark brown, and her figure full and womanly. She sat on her stool slouching, seemingly bored with her current state of affairs. She looked up at Arelia and suddenly returned her smile with dancing brown eyes. The girl leaned forward and inspected the particular trinket.
“Twenty silver pieces,” she replied.
“Twenty?” asked Arelia in surprise. That was a bit steep for her liking. “I’ll give you ten.”
“These are pure silver!” replied the girl. “Eighteen,” she offered seriously.
“Twelve,” insisted Arelia. She played the game well and coolly.
“Seventeen.”
“Fourteen.”
“Fifteen.”
“No, fourteen is as high as I’ll go,” Arelia dropped the piece back onto the multicolored blanket and turned.”
“Alright, alright,” the girl conceded. She looked at Arelia in admiration. The two seemed to enjoy the bartering more than the actual exchange of currency.
Arelia’s eyes brightened as she handed over the silver. She knelt, lifted her skirt slightly and donned the new anklet. She smiled broadly.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” she said adoringly.
“It looks great on you!” said the girl.
As Arelia’s eyes traveled back from her foot towards the blanket, she noticed something strange and square sitting underneath the girl’s stool. It was brown with white paper between the leather covers.
“What is that?” Arelia asked.
The girl’s eyes traveled down to where Arelia was looking.
“Oh, this? This is a book. You know, BOOK,” and she sounded the word out slowly for Arelia to understand.
Arelia cut her off. “Yes, I know what a BOOK is,” she said indignantly, and in her haste forgot to keep her voice low.
Some of the other Mothers browsing nearby turned to stare at her. A few whispered, and one, a fiery red-head, moved a little closer to the two, unnoticed by them.
Arelia brought her voice down low. “How do you have a book?” she asked.
The girl didn’t seem to understand that Arelia was trying to be inconspicuous. Books were strictly forbidden among the Mothers. She had seen a book before, in fact a few books, held by the Providers on their way to meetings. But she also had a secret. In fact, she owned a book – her most prized possession. She kept it hidden underneath her mattress and read it between chores during the day. She had read it five times already, but never bored with it. She had acquired it from Anelka, the Gray gypsy woman, as a gift for her sixteenth birthday. Anelka had been teaching her to read in her wagon, and Arelia had fallen in love with the book so much so that the woman couldn’t help but give it to her. It was called the Traveler. This book looked different, however.
The girl chirped, “Oh, an old gypsy lady gave it to me. She gives all of us books,” her eyes danced happily again. “It’s called the Giver. Have you heard of it? It’s about a boy who –”
“Shhh,” Arelia warned. “Books aren’t allowed here, except with the Providers.”
“Oh,” continue the girl at a loud volume. “Well, we all love books. We read them and then trade each other when we’ve finished one. It’s great fun,” she said.
The spying red-head, hearing as much as she needed to, whispered to a withered looking Gray Mother who then hurried off in the direction of the field gate, unbeknownst to the gypsy and Arelia.
Arelia looked around her. No one was watching them anymore. She knelt on the grass and picked up some more jewelry to inspect. Then, leaning forward carefully, she spoke to the girl again.
“How much do you want for that book?” she asked in a whisper, still pretending to be looking at anklets.
The girl looked at Arelia, then looked at her book, now in her hand. She thought a moment, then matched Arelia’s tone.
“I like this book so I want 25 for it or nothing at all,” she said quietly.
“25?” asked Arelia incredulously.
“Or nothing,” and the girl haughtily snapped back to a sitting position. She whipped open the book and began perusing it nonchalantly, as if to flaunt her possession.
Arelia waited for a moment. She eyed the book again. Gods be damned, she would have that book.
“Alright,” she whispered. “I’ll take it.” She would have to use her small savings plus a little of this month’s allotted household expenditures. She could tell Haeick that her anklet cost a little more than it did.
The girl shut the book and handed it out to Arelia. She paused, book mid-air. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Arelia,” she answered, a little shyly.
“I’m Zailyn,” said the girl in response. The two held eyes for a minute, then Arelia looked away with a blush.
“Thank you, Zailyn,” she said quietly. She looked around quickly for prying eyes and then at the girl. She quickly snatched it from her hands and threw it in her cloth handbag. She looked around. No eyes were watching. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Now she just had to get the book home and she would feel safer. She thanked the girl and began making her way back to the Village through the maze of wares at her feet. Just as she reached the field gate and entered the main road through the square, she was nearly run over by a group of Providers and a few Counselmen, followed by the old woman as they flew into the field. She jumped aside hastily, bumping into one of the bigger Providers. He glanced at her abruptly, glaring as if she were the one that erred. It was Brunick. Tall, blonde, and square, he was big, brutish, and a bully. He was feared by the other Providers in the village, and rightly so. He was up for seat on the Counsel. No doubt he was up to no good. He frightened Arelia.
Arelia turned and watched them as they stomped carelessly through the beautiful array of colors spread out over the field, knocking some wares over as they cut straight through to their target. They looked around, then waited for the woman to catch up.
“Who was it?” Brunick turned to set his ugly eyes upon the woman.
“It was her,” she hissed. “In the corner.” She pointed back at the girl who had just sold the book to Arelia.
The group clambered back to the girl’s blanket and stood towering above her surprised face.
“Where is it?” the old woman rasped at the young girl.
“Where is what?” shot back the girl. She scowled, showing no signs of intimidation. Arelia closed the gap between herself and the gathering. She crept to the wayside to watch.
“The book, you fool,” sputtered Brunick. “Don’t play games with us,” he warned.
“There IS no book,” said the girl emphatically, glaring back.
“We know you had it!” he grunted sharply.
Suddenly the gypsy girl noticed a figure edging to the side of the Counselmen, quietly watching. She recognized Arelia. Arelia looked at her with a terrified stare, eyes wide. The girl looked back at Brunick, square in the face.
“Nope,” she tossed her head.
Suddenly, Brunick lunged in anger and grabbed the girl by her arm.
“You listen to me!” he raged, words spewing venom from his mouth. “You tell us where the book is, or –”
“No!” Arelia jerked forward towards the two before she could stop herself. Brunick turned his big body, girl still in hand, towards her, face red and eyes bulging. He was just about to rain down a torrent of cruel words upon Arelia before she heard a stern voice behind her.
“Brunick.”
Brunick looked over towards the voice. The elder, gray hair and beard, reached out a hand to the angry man calmly, pulling his arm away from the girl who was smiling wryly directly at Brunick. Once he let her go, she stood up straight, brushed her dark hair through with her fingers, and smoothed her skirts, dignity restored.
“We mustn’t lose our tempers,” stated the older man quietly. “I’ll handle this.” He looked at Arelia briefly, then walked over to the girl, who now locked her eyes upon this new foe suspiciously. Arelia watched tensely. The girl didn’t glance back at Arelia but kept her gaze steady upon the man.
“We heard that you were trying to influence one of our Mothers,” he said evenly.
The old woman, now recognizing Arelia through her squinty eyes interrupted with a toothless gargle, “It was her!” she pointed a wrinkly finger at Arelia. Arelia stood stalk still, watching carefully. The elder didn’t seem to hear the woman.
“Could you repeat the question?” the girl’s question was more of a statement.
“She,” he said slowly, nodding towards the old woman, “said that you were showing a book to this young Mother here.”
The girl just stared back at him.
“I could make things very difficult for you,” he continued threateningly.
The girl was silent, with black, defiant eyes piercing his own. She smiled.
“Or your family,” he raised his voice slightly. “Do you care about your brothers and sisters?”
Suddenly the girl’s face lost some of its mockery and washed over with a flicker of fear.
“No–,” Arelia took another step towards the elder and the girl. “She wasn’t doing anything wrong,” she explained. “I saw her book and asked her about it.” In her haste she had forgotten she was carrying that very book in her bag that was now slung about her shoulders. Fear rose up through her body and began to sprout in red marks from her chest up into her face.
The man slowly pulled his gaze from the gypsy girl to his new target. “And what would you be asking about a book?” he inquired.
“I- I was..”
“She wanted to know what it was,” interrupted the girl. “It’s my favorite book and I was reading it and she wanted to know what was in it. Poor girl didn’t even know what a book was.”
Arelia looked at the girl. She was covering for her, but why, she didn’t know.
The man looked back at the gypsy girl. “So where’s this nonexistent book now?” he demanded.
“Oh, I gave it back to my Mama,” she said flippantly, waving a finger in the direction of the wagons. She wanted to read it next. We share books.”
“I see,” said the man. He peered at the girl. Suddenly his voice boomed.
“Young lady, you are under arrest for trying to influence one of our Mothers.” He nodded to Brunick, who then grabbed the girl from behind, securing her arms behind her back and tying them with a piece of rope he had been carrying. Suddenly the group was walking out of the field as fast as Arelia could keep up, half dragging the girl with them as they marched to the Village Square.
“No!” cried Arelia after them. “No, she wasn’t doing anything!” But her voice cracked and was soon drowned out by the gasps among the gathered crowd of people in the Counselman’s wake.
Crushing Walls 