Lamps and sconces were being lit around the bazaar as the Baron began to speak once more. It wasn't yet twilight, but the sky had a tinge of purple to it. Chip and Uncle Brit milled about, both trying not to look as distressed as they felt.
"I've sampled so many different foods today," Baron Cornflower said, "and this year everyone has upped their game. I have to say that it was a hard choice. But I'm not going to belabor the point. I've got my best mouse counting the results over there for the creatures’ choice and... oh, he's given the nod. Good."
The mouse ruffled some papers, and lowered a pair of spectacles that seemed far too big to be effective. A slip of parchment was passed over without a word.
"In second place, I would like to congratulate... Chuck from the Riverfolk Community Trust and Mercenary Company! Congratulations! Your flavors were spot on."
The baron paused, and there was a smattering of applause as another mouse gave Chuck a symbolic key to the blast furnace.
"And before we announce the first-place winner, I believe that... yes, right here, thank you Crenshaw... here are the results from the marbles. Now, do keep in mind, if you've won the judges’ choice, you're ineligible for the creatures’ choice, and the third blast furnace will go to the runner-up."
The mouse twirled his whiskers, clearly enjoying the spectacle of making his audience wait. Chip expected a groan, but none came.
"The winner of the creatures’ choice AND the winner of the first place spot – you'll only get one blast-furnace, remember – is Mr. Steal Your Pearl! And I believe that means, Brit and Chip also from the Riverfolk Community Trust and..."
Chip's world slowed down as he jumped up over and over again, his exhilaration overcoming his exhaustion. Sam was jumping too, and Uncle Brit accepted the key as the Baron told the creatures’ choice runner-up that it was their right to claim the blast furnace for the entire next year, and how they should thank the otters that they hadn't done a clean sweep.
Sela raised one of his swords in salute from across the way, and Chip could see a single tear streaming down. His two lizards were apparently now just looking for knick-knacks to bring home.
There would be celebrations, but first Chip yawned and hugged his raft mate. Sam kissed him on the cheek.
"You did it, you crafty otter!" she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"We did it," he said, embracing her, "we all did it."
***
There was a swagger to Uncle Brit’s step as he returned with the key, as if he was three otters tall. Beaming, he swept Chip and Sam up in a bear hug. "You crazy otters! We did it! This is great!"
He felt rejuvenated, mind swirling. This would definitely increase his overhead; he'd have to compensate by paying better wages to his employees. Oh, he was going to need more employees! Perhaps he'd need to hire some merchants or mercenary chefs. Oh, and the Admiral would want to congratulate him, and...
Sam coughed delicately, and Brit realized he had yet to put them down.
"Sorry about that," he said, scratching the back of his head. Around them, the vendors crowded in to slap him on the back or shake his paw. Chip drank it in with wide eyes. Amidst the well-wishing and congratulations, a well-to-do rabbit shook Brit’s paw for a bit longer than convention demanded, and Brit realized that he wasn't one of the vendors. At least, he didn't think so.
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"Er...I'm sorry, Mister...?"
"Capybara," the rabbit said, drawing a large cigar from the pocket of his gaudy plaid vest. Brit wasn’t sure if he was trying to impress a potential mate, or if he was colorblind. "Our mutual friend said that you might appreciate this."
Brit accepted the cigar, taking a deep puff before passing it back to the rabbit. "And when you speak of our mutual friend,” he said, trying not to cough too obviously, “do you mean to tell me that..."
"The one with the black feathers. She said that she'd be recuperating, and that she'd love to have a taste of something special if you wanted to bring it to her."
A ring of smoke paused about the rabbit's head as if on cue, disappearing when he glared at it. Brit turned to his nephew, who seemed at a loss. Chip cast about looking for someone.
"I'll bring something right over, but would you care to give me the address, Mister Capybara?"
A familiar head appeared in the throng, and Brit nudged Chip with an elbow. Chip brightened and moved to intercept Sela.
"Did you see it?" Sam said, hollering over the noise. "We did it!"
Brit thanked a few more spectators, and then packed up the raft for a visit with River.
***
"Yeah, you should have seen him, River! He was a machine! Fish after fish, Britpop after Britpop, he didn't bat an eye. Of course, he had to make a show of it," Sam said, leaning over to give River a drink, "because the one time we asked an otter to demonstrate swordplay, he got bogged down in some political guard detail."
Sam leaned over the bed where River was convalescing. The creation of the bond had taken a lot out of her, and though it was a self-sustaining relationship, it took a lot of power to forge.
"Boys, eh?" River’s smile felt warm through the bond, like sunrise in the shantytown.
Chip sat on a stool on the other side of the bed, holding one of River’s wings. By the door Sela paced and fidgeted, like a baby otter awaiting a turn in the spotlight.
"Boys, indeed. Brit stole the contest thanks to Chip, and he was so happy. In fact, he made us come here to thank you for all of your help."
"We didn’t steal it, we won fair and square,” Chip protested. Shooting a look at Sela, he added, “And we did it without the cheerleader we ordered."
"Guys, how was I supposed to know that I would get lizard duty," Sela complained.
River perked up.
"Lizard duty, eh? That was what we used to call it when someone had to introduce the new lizard druids to the group. I felt a cloud over you all day today, Sela."
Sela gripped her wing.
"Yeah, that was... well, to tell you the truth, I was devastated when I found out I couldn't just float around on my own."
River gripped back.
"Well, thanks to all you guys, I passed the practical portion of my apprenticeship, so..."
Jaws dropped around River’s bed as the otters competed for best actor.
"Yeah, I see that I was pretty transparent here. So now that I've bonded with the three of you, how would all of you consider coming back with me to complete my training? I understand that there’s a special dispensation for otters that want to become druids or rangers..."
She trailed off, expectant. Inwardly, she tried to project calm through the bond, burying her nervousness.
"Well, Sam is a merchant's apprentice, I thought that she would pledge to the merchant's guild for her mandatory service," Chip said, glancing at his raft mate.
"I'm in if you are," Sam said. "Anyone can be a merchant. How many female rangers do you know?"
Confusion and a note of pride overwhelmed the bond.
Sam reached out a paw from the front of the rickety bed, one each to Chip and Sela, completing the circle of three otters and one raven.
"They, uh... have bazaars there?" Chip said, "...and fish?"
In the days following the contest, Spring considered the different ways that it could have played out. River could have failed to get the crucial information out to the otters that showed up near the end, or Agent Capybara could have been wrong about so many things.
It did not matter. As far as she was concerned, River was ready for her final rite of passage to become a full druid. She had successfully massaged the situation behind the scenes, expanding her influence and network to get eyes and ears working for her. It did not matter a whiff that the stakes were low. Taking down a kingdom would be much the same.
In her room at the inn, she opened her cabinet and pulled out a flask of wine. Turning it over in her paws, the mouse considered how this fit in with the rest of her plans.
She would send River back to the training grounds, and investigate a lead from one of her old friends.
Taped to the flask was a slip of aged parchment that read simply,
"Beware of Chickens."