Chapter 3

She went back to the building she was to stay at and climbed the stairs to room 315. The room was small but clean. The day bed was covered in white sheets. There was a small wooden night stand next to the bed and little desk on the opposite wall. There was a small open window with a ledge next to the desk. She opened a desk drawer and shoved the file of employees inside and then moved to close the window. She tugged on it a moment, looked at it a moment and then pulled harder but the window wouldn't close so after glaring at it for good measure, she gave up, tired. She reached in her pocket and pulled out the amber pendant, smiling to herself before neatly placing it on the desk. She flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Although she was exhausted, her mind seemed unwilling to release the day. She stared at the ceiling, and repeated stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking..., until falling asleep.

She woke up in the dark confused. Reorienting herself she sat up and then stumbled through the room trying to find a light. Her eyes began adjusting, she pulled her straight brown hair back in a ponytail, and that's when she saw a figure sitting out on the ledge of the open window. She jumped slightly, pulling out her knife in surprise but the figure didn't move. The person on the windowsill was looking up at the stars and humming, softly. They lifted their fingers, gently playing with a silver chain they had entwined around their fingers. A single teardrop shaped gem twisted at the bottom. As the figure stared at it, they seemed to be contemplating, weighing something in their mind.

She moved forward hesitantly, "Who's there?"

Now the figure jolted, springing around to face her. The face was partially covered by black tattered cloth and a hood. His eyes looked almost black reflecting her knife and the moon. That's when she noticed her necklace hanging by its chain wrapped around his fingers.

"That's my necklace! Give it back!" she shouted, lunging forward with her hand extended.

Without hesitation, the thief jumped from the ledge landing on the balcony below and sprinted forward launching himself onto the roofs of nearby houses. All she could see was the figure, like a distant shadow in the full moonlight.

He was quick. She ran down the stairs clinging to the railing in the pitch black and found herself down in the street. She shivered a moment and then ran in the direction that the thief had fled. The town was silent and dark, lit only slightly by the full moon. His movements for escape were quick, practiced. She stopped in the square. It had to be the thief.

"Where are you!? Come out." The silence waited. Nothing moved and she hesitated, shifting to stare down the shadows. "You're a coward!" The slight echo was unsatisfying.

She sighed, bitter at the thief's escape and at losing the pendant necklace. Eventually, she sheathed her knife and turned back the way that she had come.

If only I had reacted faster, she thought. She knew a typical person, if startled, would have hesitated, tried to explain maybe or clumsily attempted what this person had just accomplished with ease. The figure in the windowsill had to be the merchant's thief.

Annemie woke up the next morning but just laid there until the sun wandered into the sky. Markus came and knocked on the door and she lied saying she was still narrowing down the suspects. She felt guilty for lying to Markus but she wanted to avoid the merchant if at all possible. She changed out of uniform and put on her old hood. She didn't want to stay inside all day. She crouched on the window ledge looking down at the balcony below, her only escape.

"I'm a soldier, I can do this," she convinced herself. Checking for bystanders twice, she then jumped. She landed on the balcony below, the shock still tingling in her knees as she sucked in air. She looked up and then down. She was still too high up to jump to the ground. She looked at the roof of the closest house and sighed. The thief had done it with such ease, making her a bit jealous.

"Well, if I miss, I will probably just break something. Explaining everything would be a pain but that just means I can't mess up." She backed up, took a deep breath and leapt from the edge toward the roof. Her foot caught a moment on the ledge and she panicked slightly, her heart tightening in her chest. She tumbled onto the roof, and heard the people jump inside. She apologized in her head and thanked the great mages, the roof didn't cave in. She could jump down now and when she did, she was relieved to be on the ground.

"Never again," She thought to herself. A few years ago she could have done that easily enough, especially when she was still a street-rat, but not anymore. After being forced to join the army she was trained but since then, life as a soldier had been uneventful.

She snuck back to the horses and saddled the big grey gelding quickly. Jude (hoo-deh) sidestepped and mumbled to himself when she jumped on his back. She kicked his sides and rode out quickly before anyone could notice. They took the dirt route behind the narrow stretch of booths and buildings. She wanted to see the state of the rest of the town that she had only glimpsed in the distance the day before. She could see the town stores and larger homes and the cobble stone path ahead. She rode into the town and paused at one of the wooden posts and jumped off. There were people sitting in the square, talking, and some dogs barked in the distance. The chatter hung in the air and the town smelled like breakfast. She tied her reins to the post and wandered into one of the small restaurants.

She pulled her hood back and a small man with big eyebrows, that hid his wrinkly eyes, welcomed her in and she asked to be seated in the back. He smiled kindly and poured her some coffee.

"I haven't seen you around before. Are you here for the winter festival?"

"The festival? No, I actually wasn't aware that there was going to be a festival."

"Well, you are in for a real treat then. Everyone is all busy getting ready for it. It's the biggest event in the area. It begins in four weeks and lasts all week long. It is most famous for its last night and is known as the festival of masks when everyone makes and wears masks. The merchant is importing mage's fire flowers for the last night too."

"Well, that is very generous of him. What does he get out of it?"

"Oh, he receives 50 percent of the proceeds from the festival and then we split the rest with all the townspeople."

"I see. Thank you for telling me about it." Of course he wouldn't do it for free, she thought. Stingy.

"No, problem. Would you like anything else to eat dear? I recommend the first plate."

"Then I will order that. Thank you."

"Very good. It will be right out."

After leaving the diner, she wandered. The streets were clean and calm except for the bustle of preparing for the great festival. She had been told about the last night but as the celebration was to be a week she wondered what the other days of celebration would hold.

A woman balanced a large box on her left shoulder, her left hand supporting it and her right hand clinging to her son's sweating hand as she dragged him behind her up the stairs to the local tavern she was helping to decorate. The box wobbled, contents quivering on the edge. Annemie quickly leapt up the steps to open the large heavy wooden doors and offered a helping hand. Steadying the box, she helped to place it on the table next to the rest of the boxes.

"Thank you. I was afraid I might drop everything for a moment. I don't think we have met before, I'm Resi Baaker. Are you here for the festival?"

"Annemie Ellis. Actually, I didn't come for the festival but am just now hearing about it. I have only heard of the last night so far though. Do you have a moment to tell me more about it? In return, I can help you out with your work."

"I would love to. I am just helping to decorate a bit."

As they hung the lanterns from the wooden beams, she told her about the first night. Severance Day became alive with the lanterns staked into the ground along the path of the shops and in the cobbled alleys and swinging soft whispers from the porches of homes and shops. As the sun began to wearily set behind the distant mountains, the bustle of people could be heard as they struck their matches and the lanterns began to glow softly, lighting the faces of children with their parents and grandparents and the Keukenhof flowers and daisies being placed in the cobbled streets. Everyone in the village lined the lit paths and the elders began the Severance Day song in a deep rich tone followed by the adults and children. It was a proud yet sorrowful chorus that called into the night a great mourning of sons and husbands lost. And one day led to the next and the great celebration erupted. The smell of frying food and caramel wafted around her as if she were there and the next three days continued, and she could hear the bustle of townsfolk as they opened their stalls to the travelers and children. Each one was filled with assortments of handcrafted dolls and soldiers, street games for children, hand sewn tapestries and quilts, frilled lace for women and tobacco rolled cigars for men. The food stalls produced strong and delicate aromas that mesmerized and drew children in like bees to honey. Music began in sudden bouts and the accordions, fiddles and din of drums echoed in my ears with the shrill and joyful laughs of children chasing each other in the streets weaving between the adults and stalls. Finally, she described the Klompen dance in all its glory. The womens' skirts and the wooden shoes that clicked on the pavement to the rhythm of the music and how the intricate designs and vibrant colors that whirled about them as they twirled could make one dizzy as they became mesmerized. When she got to the final night Annemie was lost in the festival.

After parting ways with Resi, Annemie wandered the cobbled alleyways and watched the lanterns being placed along the streets and hung from the shops and homes as the sun began to set. She had spent more time in the tavern with Resi and her boy than she had thought. She knew she should head back but as she turned the next corner, she stopped. The alley was nearly deserted except for some garbage and a few people huddled between, a blanket here and there among the broken glass. It was quiet except for an occasional sickly cough that seemed to echo. There was a slight stench that wafted in the air.

She started forward slowly, her military designated boots clicking against the pavement. Faces lifted to look at me and they whispered among themselves. There were old men and women leaning against the walls and laying on mats; there were a few young men with tired, bloodshot eyes; there were young women with children pressed against them; and there were lone children, with their dirt and tear smudged faces peering up at me half curious, half afraid. The pit of her stomach knotted as she gritted her teeth. She was disgusted at how a place like this could exist among the festivities and beautiful village. The stark contrast baffled her. It felt familiar, putting her on edge, remembering the desperation mixed with resentment.

Some of the alley habitants kept their faces downcast and she began to wonder if her thief might be hiding among these people. She continued forward along the path till she reached the end that opened to a wider alley and into the center of the village where she had started.

She rode back to the inn quickly in the cover of darkness and climbed up the creaking stairs to her room. She entered in darkness and fumbled for the lantern and matches. Once in bed she settled in and blew out the light. She sat in the darkness a while remembering the thief. The moon and stars blushed in the open window. Unblinking, she stared at the place he had sat the night before, now empty. After some time the moon began to dance in my vision. She tossed it back and forth with an imaginary figure in the darkness till it disappeared completely. Her thief was not coming back.