Hollo (The Magic of Thedes, Book 1) *preview*

Chapter 3 - Mr. Packerd BaeBinn

It was one thing to know the world by taking tiny, daring steps into neighboring yards. This new venture was another matter entirely. In Hollo's dreaming and wanting, she underestimated how the city streets would make her feel. Nothing could have prepared her to step out into revealing sunlight and the bustle of errand-goers. Nor could she have guessed at the volume of a world at work.

"Are you frightened?" Fredric whispered to her.

Hollo squeezed his hand tight, holding her hood for fear of the wind.

"Yeah...me, too," he said. "Sure hope we make it home."

"We'll be fine, dad," she said, unsure of herself. This outside world was one she knew well from her books and through the window in the attic. She had seen so much of it from her hidden room. Now, confronted so close, she felt she knew nothing of the people passing by or understood their toys, clothes, or vehicles. Sure, she knew how they worked, but you can know how fire works and still not have the faintest idea of how to remain calm in the midst of it.

Just then, a snarling frenzy of stamping, clapping hooves obliterated the last of her ease. All illusions of safety left her. She seized onto her father's arm, shrieking, forgetting herself, and forgetting her fear of being noticed.

In an instant, he scooped her up and dove behind a pile of barrels. From there, Hollo dared to peek. A large, horse-drawn carriage, headed by a towering pair, passed by an arm's length from them.

"What the-!?" Frederic hissed at her. "We're done for!"

"Horses," she said in wonderment. "Huge horses!"

"Horses?" he repeated, following her gaze. "Oh my, yes, you're right."

He stood, brushing himself off, casting her a glance. "Are they dangerous?" he asked, taking her hand and walking her out into the street again.

"No," she answered sheepishly, avoiding the eyes of confused bystanders.

"You sure?" he frowned at her. "They're not poisonous, are they? Your books would say if they were, right?"

She shook her head, trying not to smile.

"Well, tell me next time," he grumbled at her. "Now everyone thinks I'm silly, diving away from horses like that," he glanced around ashamedly. "Looking at me like I'm a fraidy-toad."

A tiny laugh escaped her as he hurried her along. A barman's reproachful eye followed them, inspecting his barrels for evidence of tampering.

"C'mon," he tugged her onward with a grin. "I think they're onto us," and they set out at a run. "Enough of these sour faces, hmm? We'll deliver my letter to Mr. Packerd before the market."

"I like their sour faces," Hollo muttered curiously, likening them to the statues in her garden beyond.

Her father chuckled. "Then you'll love Mr. Packerd."

The Artisan District was the center of commerce in Thedes, and the market square was its heart. She read about it in trade journals. For the time being, they only skirted the edge, allowing Hollo only a moment to gaze with longing at the cobbled square and its myriad delights.

After a lifetime of watching bronze, she was hungry for new things. She combed the small stands and tents with her eyes, but what little she could see failed to live up to her expectations. Small baubles, trinkets, wooden toys; Hollo had no interest in wooden figurines. Then, just before they had entirely passed out of view, she caught sight of something marvelous.

"What's that?" she tugged her father to a halt, then remembering her wooden fingers, quickly hid her hand.

"The white statues?" he asked. "That's marble."

Hollo gasped, allowing him to draw her onward. "They can make people from stone?"

"Of course," he said. "You can make people out of just about anything."

Hollo was fascinated. Each marble man and woman had the same precise detail and life-like size as her beloved, bronze friends. There was, however, a crucial difference. The marble faces had such peace and serenity about them as if contented by their gleaming, pale beauty. They personified vanity. These stone people sat naked in the daylight, drawing any wandering eyes over their perfectly sculpted bodies.

So it was that bronze people looked fearsome, and so it was that marble people appeared so effortlessly satisfied.

"Why are metal people made to look hard, and marble people made to look soft?" she asked Fredric.

"For the same reason that wooden people are made to be so clever and wise," he answered easily.

She frowned at him, confused by the answer. He sounded like he was complimenting her but hadn't answered her question.

He continued, "People don't like to guess. It's easier to know something by how it immediately appears. Dark, hard metal is known as it appears, and so dark, hard people are built of it. Marble is smooth and pale and bright like the faces chipped into it. But that's something about life. What you think you know about a thing is always the first obstacle you face when trying to get to know it better. If they could speak, do you think they'd all be the same?"

Hollo knew exactly how she felt about that; the statues she befriended in secret had no such predictability. She kept silent, though, choosing not to give away her meddling in the neighbors' yard. She wanted to keep that secret from her father a little longer.

Now he asked her, "Who would you be if you were made of something else?" This was a question that had not occurred to her. She frowned again, considering the idea. She couldn't imagine a body different from her own.

"I'd still be Hollo," she said as if it were obvious.

"Yes I think so, too," he nodded thoughtfully. "So we'll have to let people think they know everything about statues, but we'll know that it's not what you're made of that makes you. Does that sound right?"

"That sounds right," Hollo agreed.

Besides making vain statues, Hollo now saw that marble had another use. The building where they came to deliver Fredric's letter was made of the stuff. Thick columns stood on both sides of the door, though the upper floors were entirely wooden. It appeared as if they began construction and then run out of stone midway through.

Etched letters across the front read "Packerd's Historical Halfway and Pawn Broker". Nothing of that meant anything to Hollo. Her curiosity piqued as she followed her father

Inside, a man hunched over a desk facing away from them. His enormous backside hid whatever chair held him there. Hollo gaped, having never seen someone so rotund in all her life. 'Giants' added itself to the list of things she would ask her father about when they got home.

A devious smile was on Frederic's face when he bent down to whisper in her ear. As she listened, her eyes widened, and she shook her head. He encouraged her forward, and with some nervousness, came to stand beside the imposing man.

Mr. Packerd didn't look up as she neared. Not knowing how to proceed, Hollo stilled, her nervous fingers alone noted the passing of time as she stared at the proprietor. When he finally spoke, Hollo startled.

"What?" the giant mumbled without turning.

"Umm..." Hollo whispered, glancing back at Fredric, who nodded encouragement.

"Spit it out, what do you want?" Mr. Packerd said irritably, again without looking up from his trinket.

She felt foolish and shy and didn't want to, but her father silently cheered her on. She took a breath and lowered her hood back. "Boo," she whispered half-heartedly.