[This story is part of the Soothfinder series.]
Thomas rested his elbows on the fence post and watched first rays of sunshine graze the top of the hill in the pasture while workers toiled among the crops behind the fence. It was getting close to the end of the season, and it was harvesting time. He realized that some part of him had truly loved working the fields. It was simple work. There were no lies, the dirt did not deceive. Seeds bore no guile. The animals weren’t plotting or conspiring.
The sun was rising to his back and he watched as dusk gave way to his long shadow, cast out over the repeating rows of carrot stalks like a giant looming over the earth. He knew he didn’t need to work in the fields. The queen had rewarded him handsomely for bringing back princess Adelaide, and when he’d finally agreed to return to work permanently as the official royal soothfinder, she assured him that all of his needs would be covered by her treasury.
Of course, she had also offered him a room in the castle, but he had refused. He was comfortable in Joan’s loft. It was a simple existence, a quiet and comfortable retreat from the stuffy, cold halls roamed by royals and nobles. Queen Julia had smiled knowingly and thanked him for his future services.
Alongside his long shadow he watched as two horses strode up, their hooves scraping noisily on the dirt and gravel path. One bore a rider, the other did not. No, the shadow was deceptive. The first horse had two riders. One was just very small. He smiled and turned to greet them.
“Good morning, queen Julia.” He gave a small bow. “And a fine morning to you as well, princess Adelaide,” he added with another bow.
The princess smiled, sitting in front of the queen in the saddle. She looked up and over her shoulder, glancing at the queen for approval before leaning in and whispering, “we were just visiting…” she gave the queen another glance and lowered her voice a little more, “we were visiting our friends. We brought them some food.” Her whispers were hoarse and probably audible through most of the fields in the cool morning air. But the queen just smiled. None of the field workers would care or even know much about the witch and her hoard of rescued children.
Thomas leaned in and whispered back, “good thinking going early in the morning under cover of darkness. Very sneaky and wise of you.”
Princess Adelaide beamed with pride and looked up again at the queen, who smiled back at her.
“Thomas,” the queen began. “I am hearing some disputes this afternoon and I was hoping you would join me in the court as my official advisor and finder of truth.”
He shook his head, wondering what he had gotten himself into. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be there, with my apprentice.”
She smiled warmly at him. “Shall I leave the spare horse for you?”
It had no saddle. It must have been laden with the supplies they brought to Matilda the witch. “No thank you, my queen. I’ll be happy to walk.”
“Very well,” she said, spurring the horse on. The princess waved and Thomas couldn’t help but smile at her with a full heart. The second horse lazily followed, urged on by the lead rope.
He watched them go for a while, and by the time they were crossing the small west bridge heading toward the village of Riverwood, he decided he should check in with Joan before reporting to the court.
Thomas wanted to enjoy the morning air a bit longer though, and wound up going the long way around the fields, heading south first, then taking the long path that would take him toward the small town of Rosewood, south east of the castle town of Riverwood. Most of the farmers in the kingdom lived in Rosewood or the camp of tents set up along the river that snaked between villages. Riverwood wasn’t a large kingdom, with only a few established settlements, but it was a prosperous, happy kingdom.
Along the way Thomas found a young boy, not much older than princess Adelaide, sitting and leaning against one of the farm fences, nursing a wounded ankle.
“Morning,” Thomas said cordially. “Are you alright?”
The boy winced. “Yes sir,” he said formally. “I just tripped and hurt myself.” He nodded back at the field with his head, then hung it in shame.
“Tell me,” Thomas said. “What happened?”
“I was running out to play in the dirt field yonder and a deep hole snagged my foot.” The field he had been running through was full of feed crops for the animals. Thomas knew from the regular rotation, which they’d carried on since the days of the Romans, that the field with the feed crop would be in fallow, or rest, next season, and the dirt field the boy was going to play in would soon get food crops for the people. Food, feed, fallow. Always rotating.
“Where was this nasty hole?” he asked the boy.
“There,” the child pointed, indicating the feed crop outside which he was resting.
Thomas immediately spotted several other disturbed areas in the field. “Well,” he said, “are you alright, or do you need some help getting home?”
“I’ll be fine, but thank you sir. Just need to rest it for a bit I think.”
Thomas smiled at the boy and left, heading north toward the mill bridge and Joan’s house near the south wall in Riverwood village.
At home Thomas found a luxurious feast laid out. “Joan!” he cried, in part as a greeting but equally out of pure shock. But instead of Joan, it was Isabel who emerged from another room in the small house.
“Welcome home,” she said, smiling.
“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked abruptly.
“Joan invited me for lunch.” She grinned, pleased.
Thomas shook his head and scowled gently while Joan ducked out from behind the curtain to her bedroom. “Ah, there you are,” she said excitedly. “Let’s have lunch.”
Thomas gazed upon the bountiful meal at the table, with a whole duck, a hot stew, bread, jelly, eggs, and grapes. It smelled wonderful. “Oh Joan, how did you afford this?” he wondered out loud, but even as he spoke it he knew the answer.
“Compliments of the queen,” she said with a wink. “She’s quite grateful that you’ve returned to her service and she said she’ll be making sure we’re well taken care of.”
Thomas shook his head and sighed. He didn’t want lavish meals, but he could see that Joan was happy to be enjoying something nicer than usual. “Well,” he said, “I guess we should give thanks.”
After lunch Thomas and Isabel made their way to the castle. The townsfolk in the castle town were bustling about, flowing around horse-drawn carts and chasing after rowdy children. The main road cut right through the town’s busy market, where a colorful array of merchants and peddlers filled the air with pleas and petitions. The noise threatened to send Thomas into a frenzy, his panicked eyes desperately trying to take in every detail while his ears struggled to sort out the source and meaning of every sound. A trampled chicken feather, separated from its unseen, squawking host. A crying baby, a snorting horse, the cloud of dust, a shouting shop owner, an arguing customer, another peddler singing about his wares…
Isabel, with her bright, wide eyes, looked up at him and took his hand, leading him through the throng. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d stopped walking. As they crossed over the drawbridge into the castle, he gently pulled his hand away and with a wry smile, thanked her under his breath.
They entered the court quietly and the queen ushered them to her side. Though short, Isabel stood proud by Thomas, her lanky limbs at ease even in this foreign, adult world.
The queen ordered the guards to send in the first appeal. Thomas knew that most of the grievances and pleas would not require his services, but still he listened to every one, ever watchful for signs that things were not as they seemed. As each citizen left, Thomas would lean over and ask Isabel what she thought, pointing out his own observations in the hopes that she would pick up more over time.
A man complained that a farmer had given him a bad batch of eggs. There was no hidden story. Thomas nodded silently to the queen, a gesture they had established years ago that said, “this story is as it seems.” She returned a regal nod of acknowledgement, and the wronged citizen was compensated for the price of the eggs. The farmer would be fined later. Straightforward and uninteresting.
A newly widowed young woman approached in tears. Her husband had passed away after an accident with a horse, leaving her with nothing. Just before Thomas gave his nod to the queen, Isabel tugged at his sleeve. He stooped to her level and she whispered in his ear. “I know her son. He used to talk about his daddy’s buried treasure.”
Thomas smiled and stood, giving the queen a blank look, no nod. This was their signal for “I will investigate this one.”
The queen smiled, and called the woman by name. “Cecilia, you can count on the kingdom to take care of you. I will send someone to your home to discuss the matter with you.”
The woman bowed. “Thank you my queen. I believe my husband may have intended to leave me with some inheritance, but we have been unable to find it, if there ever was anything.”
Thomas smiled and bent over, whispering, “nicely done,” to his glowing apprentice.
As if by providence, the next complaint was from a man whose shovel had been stolen. Isabel nearly leaped out of her shoes, gripping Thomas tightly by the arm and trembling with excitement. Again, Thomas indicated to the queen that they would look into it, and she assured the man as swift a resolution as possible. As he left, Thomas approached the throne.
“With your permission, my queen, I think Isabel will faint if she has to take another breath of this stale castle air.”
Queen Julia gave a wise, knowing smile and nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Your highness,” Thomas said, bowing.
Standing in the castle’s inner courtyard, Thomas turned to Isabel. “Alright,” he said. “I’d like you to take this one. Let’s see if you can return the stolen shovel and find the hidden treasure, all before sunset.”
Isabel was taken aback. “Before sunset today?” she gasped. “I…”
“Come now,” he said. “This will be excellent practice for you. I have a feeling it will be quite simple. For example, surely you already know who might have the stolen shovel.”
She smiled. “Sure, that’s the easy part. But how will I find the treasure?”
“That is where you will begin your journey to becoming a soothfinder.” He smiled. “Now, what do you propose we do first?”
“We should talk to my friend, Richard. He will have the shovel,” she added.
“Most likely,” Thomas warned. “But remember, we must stick to observed facts. Until he produces the stolen shovel, all we can say for certain is that he has a strong motive to have stolen a shovel.”
Richard was home and helping his mother prepare a small supper. He answered the door and invited Thomas and Isabel inside.
“Oh hello,” Cecilia cried out. “Have you come to talk about…” she sniffled and took in a sharp, sudden breath choking on a memory.
Thomas looked at Isabel and nudged her with his knee.
“Actually,” Isabel spat. “We’d like to talk to Richard about something.”
Cecilia’s watery eyes widened. “Oh?”
“Yes, just for a moment,” Isabel said, looking to Thomas for approval. He gave a nod and she looked at the boy. “Can we go for a walk?”
Thomas let Isabel do all the talking as they ambled south out the gate and over the mill bridge. She asked him how he was feeling after losing his father. Thomas was surprised at how mature and wise she sounded, then he remembered that she had only lost her own father a season or two prior.
The boy seemed taken with her, sometimes blushing when she offered words of encouragement. He remembered details about their interactions going back to a very young age, and Thomas could tell that even Isabel was surprised at how much the boy recalled.
At last they arrived at the first field, the one Thomas knew was riddled with holes after he’d inspected it that morning, prompted by the unfortunate boy who’d twisted his ankle. He watched with pride as Isabel scanned the field, obviously looking for holes.
“Interesting,” she said, her eyes darting to Thomas before landing on Richard. “I wonder who has been digging holes in this field?”
The boy looked embarrassed, suddenly deciding his feet were more interesting than Isabel. “I guess you remember stuff too, like when I told you about my father’s treasure.” He smiled sheepishly. “My mother’s too heartbroken to find it, so I decided to look myself.”
“But you had two problems,” Isabel said, her chest puffed out and her shoulders thrown back. “You didn’t know where it was hidden and you didn’t have a shovel.”
Quickly, Richard retorted, “I do know where it is!” His eyes scanned the field. “Well, I thought I knew.” He paused, eyeing Isabel with suspicion. “How’d you know I don’t have a shovel?”
“Because the man you borrowed it from wants it back.” She leveled a stern glare at the boy.
“Oh,” Richard said, looking back at his feet. “Sorry.”
“Where is the treasure supposed to be?” Isabel asked.
“He always told me it was the feed field, straight out the gate.” Richard paused. “He said it was at the highest point in the field, but…”
Thomas almost involuntarily cleared his throat and coughed, stifling a laugh.
Isabel gave Thomas a scowl, her eyes full of anger. She hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, shooting Thomas one last glare. “Where’s the shovel? We need to return it.”
Richard’s countenance fell. “Are you sure? Can’t I just keep it a bit longer until I find the treasure?”
“Sorry,” Thomas replied, stepping in. “The shovel needs to go back to its rightful owner tonight, before sunset.”
The sun was already low in the sky, its warm rays illuminating the white faces of the houses at the edge of Rosewood behind them.
With a sigh, the boy walked over to the fence and brushed aside some of the long grass outside of the planting area. There, hidden in plain sight, was the stolen shovel. He reluctantly handed it to Isabel.
“Alright,” Thomas said. “Normally I’d have you return it yourself, but you’ve been through enough. Isabel and I will take the shovel back to its owner. You run home and help your mother with dinner.”
The boy gave Isabel one last glance, then ran off.
“Alright, are you going to tell me where the treasure is, or do I need to figure it out still?” she asked grumpily.
Thomas laughed. “You can do it. Think about what he said. It’s buried. Every season these fields are ploughed thoroughly. Do you think his father would risk it being dug up by the plough?”
Isabel slowly shook her head in silence, lost in thought.
“And the highest point of the field? These fields are flat, right?”
Thoughtfully, Isabel turned and surveyed the planting fields. The land wasn’t perfectly flat, but there were no obvious high points. Thomas felt a warm, burning satisfaction when he caught her staring beyond the fields at the hill overlooking the pastures. “What if…” she said, trailing off. “What if his father hadn’t said ‘feed field,’ which would change seasonally anyway… What if he’d said feeding field…”
Still gripping the shovel, she took off running toward the pastures beyond the crops.
“Wait,” Thomas called out playfully. “Shouldn’t we return the shovel?”
“I need to borrow it a bit longer,” she called over her shoulder.
He thought about following her, but he didn’t feel like running. Instead he meandered toward the western road where he knew she’d be returning to town soon. He soaked in the fresh late afternoon air and savored the soft hues of the sky as it prepared to transform into a delightful sunset.
The first pinks and oranges were bleeding through a violet blue sky as Isabel came running up to him, dirty and drenched in sweat. She had the shovel in one hand and a thoroughly soiled cloth-wrapped box under her other arm. She was smiling from ear to ear, and panting like a dog.
“Great work, soothfinder,” he said proudly.
She beamed and handed him the shovel. “You carry this,” she ordered, breathlessly.
He laughed. “Who put you in charge?”
“You did,” she said flatly. “When you made me figure this one out on my own.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll return the shovel to its owner, and you can bring the treasure to a needy widow and her son.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” She took off at a brisk pace and he watched her go, his heart swelling.
She reminded him of Emma in so many ways. She felt like the daughter they never had, or perhaps Emma’s non-existent little sister. He shook his head and sighed, slowly walking back to town to drop the shovel off before going to Joan’s place where he’d have another round of that delicious stew before going to bed.
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
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