The Lark's Pearl
Chapter Four

When it comes time to discuss payment and price, the woman - who has introduced herself as Lidia - says she is willing to accept a trade.

“What sort of trade are you willing to accept?” Mother asks; she hopes to negotiate the best exchange possible. The pearl is meant to be our final option.

“If your daughter is willing,” Lidia replies, offering a gentle smile. “She could help me around here for a few days. The earrings should be done by week’s end.”

“That seems fair,” I say, but Mother stops me by touching my shoulder.

“I do not know if I am comfortable with the situation,” she says, shaking her head. “We live deep in the country and I would not want her walking unchaperoned.”

“Clara lives nearby,” I say, “I could stay with her until the earrings are finished.”

“Erik mentioned her going away to visit family in the greater city.”

“Oh… Mrs. Lidia, would you accept a pearl as payment?”

Her hazel eyes grow wide as she pushes her spectacles back up her nose.

“It would depend on the value,” she says, hesitance in her eyes. “Do you have said pearl with you?”

“I do, but I will not leave it with you until I have received the earrings.”

“I accept your terms… I would still like to see the pearl, to determine the value.”

I look at my mother for approval. She nods and I reach into my pocket. My fingers touch the handkerchief. Am I truly about to offer my last pearl from the Lark to this woman?

I sigh, bringing the handkerchief out and unfolding the fabric. The dark gray pearl glistens in the dimming light. Lidia gasps motioning me closer to the candlelight.

“Nearly black,” she says, turning it over with the top of her index finger. “My dear, I have met one other person in possession of a pearl like this one… it was some days ago I was asked to appraise a pearl of similar size and color. You said the pearls were a gift-”

“They were a gift,” my mother protests, clamping her hand over the pearl and moving my hand away. “Believe me, we are well aware of the consequences to stealing from those above our station. My daughter is as honest as honest comes and I can vouch for her.”

“I did not mean to offend,” Lidia sighs, shaking her head. “But as you are aware, the law regarding such matters is quite clear. I am afraid I am required to report you to the royal treasury.”

Mother and I wait to sit in the jeweler’s waiting area. My heart is pounding as I clamp my hands together. My palms are sweaty. I can’t stop bounding my knees.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at my mother. “I truly thought-”

“None of this is your fault, sweetheart,” she says, shaking her head. “You spoke the truth, as did I. And we will speak the truth again when they question us.”

“Will we be thrown into the dungeon?”

I hold her gaze, expecting the worse. But Mother smiles and shakes her head again.

“No, not when you reveal the pearl was given to you by the Lark.”

I lean toward her.

“So there is a reason the Lark gave me those pearls,” I say, turning in my chair. “Mother, explain.”

She sighs as her smile becomes knowing.

“Good fortune,” she says, pointing to the plaque on the opposite wall. “Pearls are the most precious of all the gems because it takes an oyster ten years to perfect them. It is a dream everyone hopes to obtain. And… we live in a kingdom where the Lark is held in high regard. Especially the king. Our beloved queen was very fond of them and-”

The bell over the doorway rings. A man wearing a purple surcoat with a large, white silhouetted bird, and a chain in its beak. The man is unarmed, with nothing but a scroll in his left hand. At first, it seems like he will leave, but then he turns to where Mother and I are sitting. He sighs and approaches with calculated steps.

As the crest becomes more visible, I see the individual sphere shapes along the chain in the bird’s beak. And I gasp.

The guard examines the pearl in my hand. His thoughtful gaze is calm and friendly.

“I am informed this was a gift?” he asks as he stands back.

“Yes,” I reply; Mother and I agree I should be the one to speak because the pearls belong to me.

“Are you willing to tell me the name of the person who gave you them to you?”

“His name… His name is Lark. I have never known him by anything else.”

“Lark, like the bird?”

He tilts his head to the side while glancing down at the crest on his left shoulder.

“Well, yes… That is, I mean to say… I call him Lark or Little Friend because he is a Lark.”

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“What she says is true,” Mother says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “I was surprised when she told me, as well.”

The guard clears his throat, covering his mouth with his gloved fist for a brief moment.

“The royal treasury thought this matter could be solved without creating a scene,” he says, making a folding motion with his hands; I suppose he means for me to put the pearl away. “I do not think I am qualified to handle your situation myself. Therefore, I must ask for you to come to the palace, on this day. Are you willing to come of your own will, with no resistance?”

I hesitate, “Just me, or is my mother allowed to come too?” I ask, holding the handkerchief tightly in my fingers.

“If you wish for her to join you, she may,” he replies, dipping his head in a single nod.

“Mother,” I say, turning to her. “What about Father?”

She then speaks to the guard about letting Father know what is happening. The guard sighs but grants permission and escorts us out the door, onto the street.

The crowd parts, creating a path while staring at me, the guard, and my mother. I set my sight to the ground, embarrassment heating my cheeks. I clutch my treasure to my chest.

Father is standing outside the butcher’s shop when Mother rushes toward him and begins explaining the situation. At first, I expect him to be furious with the guard, but then he seems to compose himself and nods.

“If you believe she can handle it,” he says before lowering his voice and whispering the rest into Mother’s ear.

I have never ridden in a carriage before. I have also never traveled beyond Vratha. While my situation is not ideal, I am excited to see the palace for the first time. My parents have always promised we might see it one day, but the opportunity never arose.

Mother and I sit on one side of the carriage while the guard is on the other side. He doesn’t speak much, but he doesn’t look anywhere else either. His stare makes me self-conscious and I gaze out the window. The rolling, green hills are in bloom. Flowers of bright yellows, pinks and purple create painted patterns in the distance.

I feel Mother squeeze my hand. I squeeze back, but keep my eyes on the scenery. I so badly want to ask her what Father had said to her. But I feel this is not the time nor the place. My curiosity dampers as I yawn. The long day catching up with me.

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