Dearest Kellen:
I have got sad news to report today. Your father has died. It seems he has been alive all this time, even though I haven’t heard a word from him for at least two years. He settled in Merendon and started a store, still a peddler but not traveling about so much, I suppose. Anyway, it seems that the store was very successful, and when he knew he was dying, he sold it to a friend for a lot of money. Half of it goes to me and half to you—or, as he says, “my only living child,” so at least we know he never married again and started another family. You must come to Thrush Hollow to get it, but it is more than five hundred pieces in gold for each of us. I know! Who ever thought we would see so much money? I have already bought Georgie some new clothes, and I am going to get him a puppy. I hope your Wintermoon is a very happy one.
Love,
your mother
I was reading the letter through for the third time when I felt someone touch my arm. “Kellen?” It was Leona. “Kellen? Are you sick? You’ve turned so pale. Should I go fetch Chase? He’s in the other room.”
I looked at her, my eyes so wide I thought I should be able to see the whole world at once. “Leona,” I said. “My father died and left me a lot of money.”
“He did? I didn’t even know your father was still alive. I’m sorry, of course—”
“No, he left me five hundred gold pieces! I haven’t seen him since I was nine years old! I thought he was dead! I can’t believe this!”
Now she clapped her hands together. “Kellen, that’s wonderful! You can—you can buy a house for that! You can open up a business or travel the country or—I don’t even know what anyone would do with so much money! When do you get it?”
“I have to go to Thrush Hollow, my mother says. I have to sign some documents, I suppose.”
Her face was mischievous. “Take Raymond with you if there are documents involved. Or any kind of inheritance.”
“I don’t think I’ll need Raymond. This should be very straightforward. I’ll just—I’ll just—I think I’ll just sit down a moment.”
Leona ran to get Sallie and Chase, to tell them the news, and soon the three of them were crowding around me, full of congratulations and contagious joy.
“You won’t have to work for a living anymore, that’s for sure,” Sallie said.
“I was just thinking that, and I can’t bear it!” Leona exclaimed. “Kellen, you promised me you would never move away. Even if you become as wealthy as the queen, you’ll have to stay right here in the city. You’ll buy a house down the street. You’ll come over every morning to have tea, and you’ll be my cook on the days I need an extra hand.”
“Well, I’ll work through Wintermoon, at least,” I said, still feeling dazed. “I don’t want to travel over the holiday. Then I guess I’ll go to Thrush Hollow.”
“You guess you’ll go? You guess?” Sallie derided. “If I had that much gold waiting for me, I’d be on the stagecoach tomorrow.”
We were still babbling in the kitchen, ignoring all our customers, when the door swung open and Gryffin rolled in. “Here you are!” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d all fallen into a snowdrift somewhere.”
“Gryffin!” I exclaimed. “You’ll never guess—my mother writes to say I’ve inherited a fortune from my father.”
“Really? That’s wonderful! What will you do with it?”
I laughed. “I have no idea!”
Sallie was beaming. “That’s what it means to be best friends with a Dream-Maker,” she said, nodding at me. “Your every wish is granted.”
“I used to wish that my father would do something to prove he loved me, and now I suppose he has,” I said. “But I never thought to wish for money!”
“Then maybe your wish got mixed up with mine,” Sallie said, holding her hand out. “So I’ll take that gold now, thank you very much.”
We all laughed some more, and probably would have remained there another hour, talking like idiots, if there hadn’t been a crash of glass from the other room. Leona started. “Oh! There are twenty people waiting to be served!” she cried, heading for the door. “Sallie, come help! I don’t think Kellen’s going to be much use to us today.”
“I will be!” I called after them. “Just give me a minute and I’ll get dinner started.”
I turned back to Gryffin, to find him shaking hands with Chase Beerin. “You look just as I remember,” Gryffin said. “I have always wished I had a chance to thank you for everything you did for me that day. I had forgotten what it was like to be out of pain.”
Chase squatted down by Gryffin’s chair, his face professional and serious. “Yes, but it seems like you have remembered pain now,” he replied. “Kellen says you were injured and never really recovered. Could I take a look at your legs? Perhaps there is something I could do to help you.”
Gryffin looked uncertain, but he covered the expression with a smile. “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t come here tonight planning on physicking the customers.”
“I don’t mind. I’m rather interested in your case.”
“You can go to my room for some privacy,” I said. I pointed at the door that led to my small chamber and hoped I had remembered to make up the bed that morning.
“Thank you,” Chase said, and motioned Gryffin forward. I saw Gryffin hesitate a moment, giving me an unreadable look, and then he set his wheels in motion. Chase followed him into my room and shut the door.
I began the preparations for dinner, but my mind was far from the bacon and the flour and the parsley. Would Chase really be able to offer Gryffin some relief from his incessant pain? If so, why had Gryffin looked so uneasy at the thought? What was transpiring behind the door of that small room?
I set a pan in the oven to bake and mixed up fresh ingredients for a dinner cake. Then I washed my hands and crossed to my room and gave a soft knock. Gryffin’s muffled voice bid me to come in.
The scene was strangely reminiscent of the first night we had met Chase—the three of us gathered in a small room lit by candles, Gryffin stretched out on the bed with his legs uncovered, somber expressions all around. But Chase’s face looked hopeful, I thought.
“What have you discovered?” I demanded, sitting on the bed next to Gryffin, so close our shoulders were almost touching.
“I can’t be sure of anything until I do a more thorough examination,” Chase replied. “But I think I could do him some good. It would require a surgical operation to repair some of the damage to the bones. And then it would require that Gryffin learn how to walk again, and practice new exercises every day. I don’t think he will ever be entirely out of pain, or ever walk without the use of a cane, but I believe I could restore some mobility and relieve at least the worst of the agony. I don’t think I can heal him, but I can make him better.”
I clapped my hands together. “Oh, Gryffin! What wonderful news!”
The smile on Chase’s face was a little sad. “Gryffin does not seem convinced of that,” he said.
I felt myself grow tense. “Why? Is he afraid of the surgery? Gryffin, it can hardly be worse than what you live through every day.”
“Well, yes, it can,” Chase said candidly. “It can be quite gloriously painful. But a surgical incision will improve, whereas his current condition will not.”
I pulled back enough so I could view Gryffin’s face. He had flung one of my blankets over his legs, but I had seen them when I first came in—still the twisted, thin, bruised-looking sticks they had always been. “I don’t understand,” I said quietly. “Why are you afraid?”
Gryffin looked from me to Chase, his face a study in vulnerability. “I want to do it, truly I do,” he said. “For myself? I would love to be so strong I could put aside this wheeled chair and walk across the kingdom. But what if—what if I only have my magic because of my pain? What if I lose the Dream-Maker’s power? I have done so much good for so many people. Wouldn’t it be selfish to pursue my own happiness and leave everyone else with no hope of achieving theirs?”
“Oh, Gryffin,” I whispered, and put both my arms around him. I could feel my tears start, and I rested my cheek against his shoulder so he wouldn’t see. “That wouldn’t be selfish at all.”
The small smile was back on Chase’s face. “If pain is what anchors the magic to you, I don’t know that you would need to worry,” the doctor answered. “As I said, I don’t think you’ll ever be free of it. Just much improved.”
“Yes, but then, perhaps the magic is diluted as much as the pain is….”
I lifted my head. “Then perhaps it will be someone else’s turn to be Dream-Maker,” I said rather fiercely. “As the power passed from Melinda to you, so it will pass from you to someone else.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” Gryffin said.
Chase shrugged. “If it doesn’t? Then people must work harder to achieve their own desires,” he said. “Besides, I’ve often wondered. Is there really only one Dream-Maker at a time? I’ve witnessed things—moments of bravery, acts of mercy—that lead me to think all of us can make dreams come true for someone else, at least once or twice in our lives. I’ve done it, I know I have. I’ve seen others do it as well. Why shouldn’t that be a charge on all of us? Each of us be Dream-Makers when we can. Why should all that power reside in the hands of one hurt boy?”
I gave a watery chuckle, my face still pressed against Gryffin’s bony shoulder. “That sounds like heresy,” I said.
Chase shrugged. “Well, I have always been the kind of man to ask questions,” he said. “No reason to stop asking them now.” He came to his feet, and both of us looked up at him. “Think about it,” he urged as he reached for the door. “Discuss it with Kellen. I am here most nights. You can find me again when you want to talk.”
“Can you check on the oven on your way through the kitchen?” I asked. He laughed, assented, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Gryffin and I sat in silence for some moments. My arms were still around him, and one of his hands had come up to hook itself over my wrist.
“What are you thinking?” I asked at last.
“I don’t know what to think,” he replied. “I am afraid to do it, and I am afraid not to. It is not something I ever let myself hope for before. It is not something I ever wished for. How can a dream come true if it wasn’t even your dream?”
“I wished it for you,” I said. “It would be my dream come true if you were whole and out of pain.”
The softest of laughs, almost a sigh. “I told you before not to waste your dreams on other people.”
I lifted my head. “What are you telling me? That you don’t want to be well? That you don’t want to be able to walk again?”
“I don’t want to lose the power,” he admitted. “Not just because I am afraid to see magic go out of the world. But because—because—who will I be then? What will I be if I am no longer Dream-Maker?”
I dropped my arms, though I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him. “Who were you before you were Dream-Maker?” I demanded. “You were the smartest boy I’d ever met. You worked harder than anyone I knew. You set goals for yourself that would have seemed impossible for anyone else, but I knew you would achieve them. You wanted to come to Wodenderry and study—well, here you are in Wodenderry. If the power leaves you, then follow that old desire. Become a lawyer, like Raymond, or a doctor, like Chase. How many dreams could you make come true then?” I put my hands on either side of his face. “If the magic leaves you, you will be who you always were,” I whispered. “You will be the person who matters most to me in the world.”
His hands covered mine where they lay against his cheeks. “Would you love me if I wasn’t Dream-Maker?” he asked in the smallest voice.
I replied, in tones as soft as his own, “I will love you no matter what.”
The next day was Wintermoon, the most magical day of the year. Time to look ahead to the future and refine your hopes and dreams. Time to tie your wishes to a Wintermoon wreath and watch them get written in flame against a moonlit sky. Wishes had been generally in flux lately, I thought, at least for the people I was closest to. It would be hard to know exactly what items to attach to the great rope of greenery hanging over the bar at Cottleson’s. It would be hard to brace for the new year, since it seemed so much had already happened—and so much was still undecided.
Leona said much the same thing that morning as we did a final sweep of the taproom before opening for lunch. “What do I have left to wish for?” she said. “I’ve secured the tavern. Business has been wonderful. I’ve fallen in love. My friends have discovered riches. I think it would only be greedy for me to ask for anything more.”
“Well, I’ve still got plenty left to want,” Sallie said, bustling up with her hands full of ribbons. “I’m going to ask for love and money and fame and anything else I can think of.”
What I wanted was a way to make a graceful transition, from who I was now to who I wanted to be. To change, as Gryffin had asked, from a boy back into a girl. Partly because he had asked—but only partly. I loved him, and I had said so, and I wanted to be able to show the world that I did. And I wanted to be myself as I did so.
In the end, I took out the carved coral disk that the itinerant peddler had given me so long ago, the one he had said represented femininity. I had brought it with me from Thrush Hollow but hidden it in the very bottom drawer of my dresser, not wanting to be troubled by any of its ancient magic. But now, at Wintermoon, on the cusp of a new year, I thought it might help me cross a threshold from pretend to real. I attached it to the wreath and silently spoke my wish.
But, like Sallie, I had many other things to hope for. Ever since Melinda had made that memorable visit to Thrush Hollow, I had collected a scattering of wishes, and when I couldn’t bring them to the Dream-Maker, I had attached them to Wintermoon wreaths. Today, I breathed wishes for each of the people I knew and cared about, specific ones when I guessed what they were, and general ones when I didn’t. I asked for Gryffin to be well and out of pain. I asked for Sallie to find love and happiness, for Leona’s great good fortune to continue. I spared a thought for Phillip, whom we had not seen since Raymond’s announcement, and I wished him a little good fortune of his own. I remembered Sarah and Bo, Emily and Randal, my mother and Georgie. After I had run through the names of all the people I knew, I ended the way I always did: Let everyone have at least one wish come true. And then I tied a knot of multicolored ribbons to the greenery, a rainbow spiral of undifferentiated desire, and let each one represent what it would, so long as it was good.
“We’ll burn that tonight,” Leona said, coming up behind me. “Chase’s coming with some of his friends. Will Gryffin be here?”
“He said he would,” I replied.
“What has he decided about the surgery?”
“I don’t know that he has decided yet. But I hope he’ll do it.”
Just then the door opened to admit our first customer of the day. But this was a familiar one. “Ayler!” Leona exclaimed. “In town for Wintermoon?”
The Safe-Keeper gave each of us a warm hug and his dreamy smile. “Just for a few days,” he said. “But I thought I’d spend the holiday here. I assume you’re burning a wreath tonight?”
“Yes, and it will be quite the occasion,” Leona said gaily. “Even the Dream-Maker will be here. Don’t you think that means our wishes stand an even better chance of coming true?”
“Indeed, I do,” Ayler replied. “I can hardly wait to see what the new year brings.”
“After this year? Neither can I,” Leona said with a laugh.
What the next hour brought was a steady stream of customers, all of them hoping, no doubt, to catch a glimpse of the Dream-Maker on this particular day. Foreseeing this possibility, we had pressed Sallie’s sisters into service again, and I divided my time between working in the kitchen and waiting on tables in the taproom.
It was mid-afternoon when I approached one of the booths where two women were seated. Assessing them a
utomatically as I got closer, I assumed that their fair hair and matching profiles indicated that they were probably sisters. But when I arrived smiling at the table, and they both looked up from their menus at the same time, I realized they were twins. Their features were so similar they could have been one person set before a mirror, except that the one woman was smiling and the other was not.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “I’m Kellen. What can I get you today?”
“The roasted chicken sounds very good to me,” said the smiling woman.
Leona came hurrying up beside me. “We might be out of the roasted chicken,” she apologized. “It’s been a more popular item than we anticipated. But the braised turkey is quite tasty.”
“Then perhaps I’ll try the turkey,” the woman replied.
Her sister was watching me with a frown on her face. “Why are you dressed like that?” she asked abruptly.
Leona, who had turned away, turned back in surprise. I felt a blush come to my face, but I maintained a nonchalant expression. “Dressed like what?” I said.
The frowning twin waved her hand at my clothes. “Like that. Like a boy. You’re a young woman under that shapeless vest and those baggy trousers.”
“Eleda,” her sister said in an admonitory voice. “Perhaps that’s a secret.”
“Well, it’s a ridiculous secret,” Eleda said roundly. “No reason to be pretending anymore.”
The smiling twin sent an apologetic look my way. “My sister is a Truth-Teller,” she explained. “It’s sometimes most inconvenient. I’m sorry if her plain-speaking makes your life more difficult.”
I couldn’t respond. I risked one quick look at Leona, who was staring at me in complete confusion, and then I dropped my gaze to the floor. “It was a secret that had to come out sometime,” I mumbled.
Eleda made an impatient noise. “Maybe that’s why Gryffin wanted us to come over here today,” she said. “I thought it was because he wanted us to try some fine cooking, but maybe he wanted us to be proclaiming truths.”