Autumn and September were well under way when Mr. Henry Michaels arrived in the city of Carson. He was filled with excitement, all six feet and the odd inches of his long character. The brisk autumn wind, that he loved of all the seasonal winds, brushed through his sand colored hair and tousled his large wire glasses. Nonetheless, he had arrived in Carson, the great academic city of the kingdom. His heart stirred under his brown tweed coat, and his green eyes swelled at the thought of being in the city. He was one step closer to realizing his dream: to be a somebody.
At the not-so-tender age of twenty-four, Henry had decided that he needed to do something with his life. All his youth he had complained and moaned about the lack of splendor and pizzazz in his life. An avid reader and lover of novels, Henry longed for adventures similar to those he read between so many covers. In his late teens, Henry had tried to become an adventurer, but the experiment failed miserably. Since those days, Henry decided he was not the adventurer type, but a scholarly type.
Henry decided that he would go to the Academy in Carson. Deciding to go was easy enough, but going was a different story. The youth thought of how he could get in. He needed letters of recommendation or he would to pass tests to prove he was good enough for the illustrious institution. Henry had few connections that could get him in to the Academy, and when he applied for the standard entrance exams he had been fortunate enough to get the chance. Henry wrote essay after essay, attended the practical exam in his home town, but it was not enough. The competition had been tough, and Henry failed to be selected for admittance. After all, all the great minds and fresh talent in the kingdom went to the Academy for Arts Practical and Mystical. Henry was bright, but a far cry from a genius.
Mr. Michaels, Henry's step-father, had a connection in Carson. The connection was a woman by the name of Mrs. King. When Henry expressed his desire to go to the Academy, Mr. Michaels arranged a job for Henry. Never having been close or expecting anything from his step-father, Henry was surprised when he learned of the job he would have when he arrived in Carson. This solitary expression of kindness on the part of his step-father was the greatest thing that happened to Henry. With the job that had been arranged for Henry, he could easily make connections in the academic world. The only reason that Henry had concluded that he would be able to make such connections was based on the job. The job was at the legendry bookstore, King's Books. Rumor in Milton, Henry's hometown just northwest of Carson, said that wordsmiths had run the shop since its opening, and that since smiths ran the shop the books were charmed.
While Henry highly doubted the books were charmed, he wondered if it were true if wordsmiths, commonly called smiths, did run the shop. Wordsmiths were rare in the kingdom, and law decreed that anyone with the ability to smith had to serve the kingdom using their talents. Youths with trace amounts of skill were whisked away to the Academy to learn under the great minds of the last generations, in hopes of the rare ability actually being there. No one knew much about wordsmithing, as it was a mystical art, and little scientific study could be done on it. A general definition of smithing was:
The ability to create a manifestation by speech, writing or reading.
There were variation of the skills attributed with smithing, but Henry knew little on the subject. While on the drive to Carson, Henry had the idea of studying the infamous King family, if they were indeed all smiths. If he could properly study them and collect his thoughts properly into a book, he could become known throughout the kingdom for his contribution the study on smithing. His heart skipped at the thought of his momentary genius. On the other hand, if Miss King and her family were not smiths as rumor made it seem, then Henry would need to find another way to fame and fortune. At the very least in any case, Henry would be in Carson, the great academic city and cultural center, a place he had always wanted to go and see.
His carriage stopped on the corner Third St. and Oak St., where his flat was. The building was fairly amiable from the outside, but plain on the inside. Where the exterior red brick was vibrant from the streets, the interior was made up of simple white walls, serving only to function. His flat was one room with a small kitchen, bath and a small living area. Henry dropped off his luggage, washed his face and combed his hair before he set out again. Looking himself over, Henry anticipated meeting his new employer.
King's Books was on the corner of Third and City, two blocks away from Henry's flat. City Rd. was one of the busiest streets in Carson, save Market St., which was busy all-day year round. On City Rd. were the courthouse and the town square, the heart of the city, only three blocks from King's Books.
When Henry had walked the two blocks north, he saw his new place of employment. King's Books had two floors, a whitewashed exterior, three windows facing City Rd. with lace curtains framing the inside. Henry went up to the shop and eyed the hanging sign just outside the door. The sign was white with the shop's name in gold lettering, in the shape of a crown. The blue door to the shop had three stone steps leading to it.
Henry entered the shop and saw that it was much smaller than the outside had lead him to believe. In fact, Henry thought the shop would have been twice its size from judging the outside. Despite the small size, the shop was well-stocked. There was a display table in front of each window, two broken-in red leather arm chairs framing the doorway, four shelves of fiction adjacent to the L shaped register counter, a flight of stairs parallel to the fiction shelves with a third leather chair at the base of its steps. Along the staircase was a shelf of nonfiction, which came to an angle with another wall of nonfiction, and the wall next to the steps, which faced the entrance to the register, was also filled with nonfiction.
The second floor was visible from the first as the ceiling was essentially nonexistent. There were two walls of books, hugging the interior of the shop. The wall which looked onto the register was filled with books of Arts Practical: math, science, mechanics, artistic techniques and the like. The wall, from which you could see City Rd. from the window in the corner, was filled with books of Arts Magical. Henry could see the sections clearly labeled in whitewashed wood and gold lettered signs. All of the carpeting was a rich burgundy, which contrasted with the blue entry door. The walls not occupied with books had gold pinstriped wallpaper.
Still on the first floor, Henry observed the shop and was taken with it. He had always loved books and at that very moment there was nothing he wanted to do more than to browse the shelves, find a few books and collapse into one of the comfortable looking chairs. That was until he saw the girl behind the counter. After the awe of the shop had worn off Henry remained in a stupor. Not because he was intimidated about starting his new job, or because he had moved into a new city. The girl had Henry flustered and he knew he should speak with her. Henry wanted to speak to her, but not about his employment. She was young, and when she saw Henry she smiled and welcomed him to the shop.
"Hello," she said in a sweet voice. The voice had been tuned from years of retail experience. A sweet, non-threatening chime that cried, "I'm here to help you. Please, let me assist you. Let me help you spend your money." Those words, however, were not the ones that came from her mouth, but rather, "Welcome to King's Books."
Henry blushed while taking a staggering breath and smiled back. While he took his time walking up to the counter and clearing his throat he observed her. She was working, jotting something in a ledger and looking about the shop, which had about seven customers in it. She was tall, average build with long brown hair tucked into a simple, work efficient bun. Her green eyes were soft and her pouting pink lips were inviting. Henry felt immediately comfortable around her and had the immediate impression that he could ask her any question about a book, any book, and she would be able to answer him. She wore an unadorned, floor-length, dark red work dress with long sleeves and a scoop neck collar, Over the dress she wore a white apron tied just under her bust line and outlined her torso, with pink ribbons adorning the midsection with a medium-sized bow tied from the ribbons on the back. Henry noticed the lack of a wedding ring, and the presence of a golden locket. He wondered who had given it to her.
"Good afternoon," Henry said.
"Hello, may I help you?"
"I hope so," Henry laughed. "I am Henry Michaels."
"Oh, Mr. Michaels!"
"I believe you have been in correspondence with my father," Henry said, not wanted to reveal that his father was actually his step-father.
"I haven't, I'm afraid," she said. "That would be my mother, Mrs. King. Sadly, she has left for King's Dale for her health, only last night."
"Oh." Henry's face lost color.
"I am the owner, Miss Susan King," she said, introducing herself.
"Owner?"
"My mother has given me the shop only six months ago on my twentieth birthday," Susan explained.
"Quite the gift."
"She has wanted to retire for the last few years, for her health, and finally she has decided to do so."
"Is she terribly ill?"
"Not terribly, but annoyingly so," Susan answered. "So you are our new clerk."
"If you should have me."
"You're tall, so you can reach the upper shelves. No doubt strong since you are a man, so you can lift many books," Susan said looking him over. "A scholarly look, a good impression for our customers. Yes, my mother has hired you and I shall keep you on."
"Thank you."
Susan smiled and nodded. "You'll start in the morning, but for now, let me explain your role here. King's Books has a long history, and a well founded reputation for being the best book shop in the city. Others try to compare to us, but it can't be done." Susan came across as a little smug, even boasting a smirk as she spoke. "My great-uncle founded this shop about seventy or so years ago after he made his fortune. Being a well-loved figure in the community, my uncle gave a lot to the Academy and to the kingdom."
"And what will I be doing?" Henry asked, eyeing the shop.
"You're basically a stock boy."
"Okay."
"Jane works the floor and register, as do I," Susan continued.
"Who is Jane?"
"My younger sister," Susan answered. "She's out right now, but you'll meet her tomorrow. Do you have any questions?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Great, I'll see you tomorrow at seven," Susan said as she looked past him to see a customer behind Henry. Henry bowed his head, said goodbye, and then ducked out of the shop.
Henry was then left with the city of Carson before him. He thought he would look at the city and see the Academy, which he was especially anxious to see. The wind was picking up and passing through the trees and their baring branches. With the wind blowing west, Henry had the wind at his back. After walking two blocks he could see the courthouse with its grand marble pillars and staircase. Across the street from the courthouse was the town square, which boasted a large, flowing fountain and a statue of the patron of the city, Duke Carson.
Children were playing in the fountain, and couples strolling through the square, arm in arm. Surrounding the square was the market place. Tents and carts were everywhere, and as Henry passed through the square, coming onto Market St., he saw a road sign for Academic Dr., running north and south. Walking quickly along Academic Dr., he came to the Academy's grounds. For sometime he wandered around, taking in the general splendor of the campus. Night came quickly, and as the street lamps came on, Henry sat on a bench.
"It's truly amazing," Henry said, when his thoughts had cleared from his head. "If only I had been accepted."
The next morning, Henry went to King's Books, feeling the anxiety from the night before. He had felt some loss of not being accepted there, and while he had felt the regret when he first learned of it, it had been magnified when he had been standing and staring at the great stone halls. Henry knocked on the front door of the shop, and Susan let Henry him. She was wearing a long dress and apron as she had the day before.
"Good morning," she said. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Good, we got some new stock last night, so these front displays have to be reworked," Susan said. "A new play by a local dramatist."
Henry looked at the four boxes on the counter by the register. "Okay."
The morning progressed, and Henry worked the shelves and serviced on the floor. At eleven a young blonde woman came bouncing into the shop from the stockroom. She was wearing a dress similar to Susan's, but rather than a dark hue she wore light blue. Her apron was tied at her hips and she smiled as she passed by Henry. The young woman went up to the register and began to adjust her apron, securing the bow in the back. This had to be Jane, thought Henry.
Jane King was eighteen and shining with the brightness of her youth. Her blue eyes shimmered when she laughed, and her golden shoulder length locks bounced when she giggled. Henry thought her hair might be too much if it were not secured partially with a red ribbon.
"Hello," she said. "You must be Mr. Michaels."
"Hello, I am. Henry will suffice, if you don't mind."
"Very well," Jane said, grinning at him and emphasizing his informality, "Henry."
"Miss King," Henry said, coughing in nervousness.
"I am not Miss King," Jane answered, "well I am, but I am Miss Jane King, if you do not mind. Being the younger sister, I do not have the honor of being just Miss King. Not until my sister marries, that is."
"Is she to marry then, Miss Jane—?"
Jane cut him off. "Jane will suffice," she said, pausing to finger her hair. "That is, if you don't mind, Henry."
"Would your sister?"
"You call her Miss King," Jane said, "but you may call me Jane."
"Indeed."
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Henry. Get to work," Jane said, pulling a novel from the hold shelf underneath the counter. She plopped the book open and began to read. Henry's eyebrow went up in curiosity and bewilderment as he watched Jane begin to read. After a minute of Henry staring at Jane, she glanced up from her reading position. "Yes, Mr. Michaels?"
"Oh, nothing," he said, breaking his trance.
"You may think I'm not working, but I am."
Susan emerged from the upper level and saw Jane leaning against the counter. With a grunt and a sigh, Susan placed a stack of books on the counter. "Good morning, Jane."
"Good morning, Susan," Jane said, smiling.
"You were supposed to be here an hour ago, at the latest."
"Nonsense," Jane protested. "I had breakfast with some new friends."
"New friends?"
"Actors! A new troupe!"
"And have you another audition?" Susan went behind the counter and pushed Jane out of her way as she began to put the books just placed on the counter underneath onto the hold shelf. Henry watched the sisters interact. "Jane thinks she is an actress," Susan finally explained.
"I am an actress! I was in a play last summer. How could you forget? You break my heart, Susan!"
"Don't be dramatic, it's unbecoming."
"How can you be so cruel to me?" Jane cried dramatically. She thrust her hand to her brow and fell against the counter in front of the books Susan was trying to put away. "It is because I am a fine actress and such a charmer in my circle that I bring in all the lovely, young students."
"Yes, they know you very well on the campus," Susan admitted. "All the poets and actors flock here by the dozen!"
"I see you have the new display up," Jane said, standing straight. She smirked as she continued, "I love that play."
"And do all your friends know that?" Susan returned the smirk.
"Indeed. I told them all this morning how I adored—," Jane said, losing her thought. "What is it called again?"
"The Heart's Night."
"Yes, well I told them all how I adored The Heart's Night."
"And will we be seeing any of them today?" Susan asked, getting up from the floor. "You know I don't condone your galloping about among all those men. Mother certainly did not approve."
"Yes, but she did like their general appearances."
"That is true."
Henry sighed to himself and turned to go back to work. He had better things to focus his attention on than silly family matters, which were not his own. Even when silly matters were his own, he did not care for them. Being of such importance, if only to himself, Henry began to head upstairs to reorganize the shelves and see if any books had been misplaced. He had another motive, however, which was to see if King's Books carried any books on wordsmithing. Indeed, the shelves did need straightening up, and some books had been thrown askew amidst someone's hasty search.
Henry looked along the Arts Magical wall, and upon seeing some of the subjects of the books thought they were ludicrous. Books for spells and brews, of mystical and mythical plants and beasts, and of magical lore. Henry lingered on the second floor searching for anything on wordsmithing.
"May I help you?" Jane's voice cooed from behind Henry.
Henry forgot for a second that he was employed at King's Books; and as he perused the index of a thick text he turned to Jane and told her exactly what he was looking for. He glanced at her over the rims of his glasses when he made his demand. Jane crossed her arms and her eyes looked him over.
"Why would you want a book on that, Sir?" Jane's tone was critical. There was no doubt in Henry's mind that Susan would hear of this. "Have you heard any interesting rumors?"
"Miss—."
"It will not serve you to be poking and prodding into things you know nothing of when you ought to be working."
"I apologize," Henry said, shutting the book in his hand and putting it back on the shelf. "I have heard of wordsmithing and I was fascinated by the concept—."
"What have you heard?"
"That your family is one of smiths."
"It is true that some of the past generations had a smith here and there," Jane answered evasively. "I warn you, do not make such inquiries to Susan. That is a topic she does not like."
"Why is that?"
"You truly know nothing of our family," Jane remarked.
"I am afraid not."
"Among the great contributors of our family to the state, our beloved father was one of them. He was finishing a commission for the duke when he was killed."
Henry's face went pale from embarrassment. "I'm sorry."
"As are we, but our good father has been dead these last twelve years. Apologies will not bring him back to us," Jane said, turning away and then returning downstairs.
Henry cursed his stupidity and thought that he should have done some research into the King family. He looked down to the register and saw Jane whispering in Susan's ear. Susan glanced up immediately and gave Henry a look that could have put him in his grave. Susan said nothing to Henry, however. Though Susan was obviously upset from what Jane had told her, Susan went back to work.
When the afternoon had passed and evening came round, Henry was preparing to leave. Susan still had not spoken with him, and he knew that they would speak before he left. The shop had emptied and Jane had retreated into the house attached to the shop to prepare for a night out.
Only Henry and Susan were in the shop. Susan writing in her ledger and taking note of the money in the register. Henry wished that he knew what Susan was to say to him. The clock behind the register struck eight and Henry made his way up to Susan, clearing his throat.
"Miss King," he called.
"Mr. Michaels," Susan said in a distant voice. "You are preparing to leave then?"
"Yes," he said.
"As this was your first day," Susan said, setting her pen down, "tell me what you learned."
Her green eyes met his, the color of which reminded him of stark pine trees amongst hills of snow. Shuffling from foot to foot, Henry thought of his answer. An obvious answer would to say that he learned of the shop and where to find and place things. That was not the answer Susan wanted, however, and that he knew but could not say how he did.
"Did you learn nothing?" Susan asked, closing the ledger.
"I did."
"And?"
"To be frank, Miss," he said. "I feel I must apologize to you and your sister."
"You have apologized to my sister," Susan said, standing defensively. Her hands were on the glass of the counter; she seemed as though she were bracing herself to leap over to the other side. After a few inhalations, she relaxed her stance and came from behind the counter. "Why do you feel as though you should apologize to me?"
"Because I intruded on that of which I have no reason to," Henry answered.
"About my father?"
"Your family in general," Henry said.
"Tell me what you have learned today, Mr. Michaels," Susan said, staring him down.
"I learned that I should not poke nor prod where I have no business or interest," Henry replied.
"No interest?" Susan asked. "What made you ask after wordsmithing? That is a dangerous topic in this shop and in my house. Are you aware that anyone with an inkling of talent or remote knowledge of the subject is required by law to serve the king? Forced to publicly reveal their strength and talent to their city, and if it is great enough, to the king and his court?"
"I was not aware. I was curious after the nature of an art I have not heard of before."
"My father was murdered in his sleep for being a smith," Susan said. "Since our infancy, Jane and I have been constantly watched and observed. We come from a family of smiths, if we do not have skill then our children likely will. At least that is the reasoning of the king's men."
"What have you to hide if you were? A claim like that would allow you to go to the Academy, to study and travel."
"I can do all of those things on my own," Susan rebutted. "I hide nothing. Like all decent citizens, I enjoy my privacy."
Henry didn't quite understand. All he had ever thought and dreamed of since he was a youth was to go to the Academy and to become something great. He looked at Susan who was now fidgeting with the locket around her neck.
"I don't expect you to understand, but I do require you to keep your mouth shut. Don't ask impertinent questions and don't be running your mouth. My mother may have hired you, but I can ruin you in this town."
"It seems," Henry said, noting Susan's defensiveness. His tone was steady, hesitant and pensive. "So could I."
The two were silent for a minute, the air becoming tenser with each passing second. Both were staring one another down, waiting for the other to back down. The clock on the wall chimed the quarter hour and frantic footsteps could be heard from the stockroom. Henry broke his stare first to see Jane burst from the stock room.
"Has he shown up yet?" Jane asked, patting her hair as she looked out the windows. She was dressed for the theater, her dress a soft yellow with copper accents. Running from window to window she completely missed the tension in the room between her sister and Henry. "He said he would be here by seven-thirty."
"Forty-five minutes late," Susan said.
"Yes, and the longest I've ever kept a man waiting is thirty!" Jane sighed.
"Who are you waiting for?"
"A new friend," Jane said. "He's a fresh face from the capitol! An actor extraordinaire. We're going to the Opera."
"Well, you haven't far to go."
"To be sure," Jane said. "But I wanted to make sure we got decent seats since it was a last minute decision."
"What is your friend's name?"
"Archie," Jane said. "He's so delightful. I met him just the other day while I was walking along the rose gardens by the Academy. I admit I did look rather fetching. I wore that pink day dress with a white shawl, and Mother's pearls. I was strolling, reading some book of poetry, whatever was on display last week, and twirling my lace parasol over my shoulder. A sight to be saved for the stage. Oh, if I were a better actress!"
"You're working yourself up," Susan said.
"Yes, well, I stopped to sit and observe some children playing just across the way, and the next thing I know I'm talking to Archie about acting and poetry. After an hour he asked me if I should like to go to a play. I answered I'd love nothing better than to be close to the stage."
"Save the dramatics," Susan said.
"I can't help it! I am an actress!"
"Who is working herself into a frenzy over a boy."
"I think I like him," Jane laughed. "I'll be devastated if he stands me up."
"Well, I'm locking the door in ten minutes."
"How horrible of you! Don't lock the door!" Jane adjusted her gloves and reached into her purse for her fan. With a quick snap of her wrist, she opened the fan and began to fan herself. It was then Jane noticed Henry standing in the room. "Oh, I didn't know you were there!"
"You were preoccupied," Henry said. "It's fine, Miss Jane. I have a sister about your age, I do understand how you girls act."
"You know our secrets now!" Jane laughed. "No doubt this shall aid you in some future battle for love!"
Henry blushed and Jane laughed at the sight of his red cheeks. In the midst of her laughing, the bells on the front door chimed and in entered a tall blonde youth. Jane hid her face behind the fan and then mouthed to Susan that this was Archie. Jane took Archie by his left arm and brought him to stand in front of Susan.
Archie was tall, lean with blonde hair slicked back into a queue, which was held fast by a black ribbon. He wore a black evening coat and pants, highly polished shoes and a white silk tie. His face was soft, and his smiling lips seemed as though they were incapable of uttering a harsh word. As Archie shook Susan and Henry's hands, his blue eyes glistened, and his freckles stood out against his pale complexion.
"Good evening," Archie said, bowing his head.
"How do you do?" Susan answered, bowing her head in return.
"Very well, and you?"
"I am well. So you are Archie. We've heard quite a bit about you."
"Have you? Good things, I hope," Archie laughed.
"Susan!" Jane hissed.
"And how are you, Sir?" Archie asked.
"Good. I work here, so you needn't worry about impressing me." Henry laughed to himself.
Archie smiled and bowed his head to both Henry and Susan. After a comment about the time, Archie offered his arm to Jane and bid the others a good night. Susan watched as Jane walked out of the shop, winking at Susan as she stepped onto the sidewalk. When the door had shut and the bells finished chiming, Susan locked the door and prepared to turn out the lights.
"He seemed nice," Henry commented.
"They always do."