Moonstar Read Online Free

teased at the mind. Jobe wanted to stray, but—
    Kuvig and Hojanna had small care for the booths. No matter that Jobe pressed loudly to stop, they passed the street of illusions and the wonders therein. Nor did they tarry at the pavilion of faces—Kuvig disliked professional readers; they spliced themselves between people and their gods, or so she said—they did not linger in the markets, having come to the Sea Fest for more mundane reasons. Only Dida and Jobe were flushed with excitement, but Dida’s had nothing to do with the fair.
    Jobe’s wonder, or course, was that of a child—she’d been brought as a treat, but the treat was now losing all of its sweetness, because there wasn’t the time for the giggles all promised by banners; not for globes of dancing silk-fish; not for pantomimes nor acrobats, not for jugglers, nor for dumb-shows; not even for the painted-laughing beggars with their grotesque putty noses, big flat feet and silly poses. “We told you, Jobe, when you asked to come that this would not be all for fun. First we go for software at the mart; then Grandpere must arrange for schoolings; and after lunch, the Plaza to negotiate the contract so that Dida can be married. So many families have made offers that it will be quite hard to choose, but in affairs like marriage, one simply does not haste. You would not wish hasted if it were your marriage, Jobe. And if we have time after that, perhaps then, the toymongers’ booths.”
    â€œCan see toys at home,” said Jobe grumpily, but not too loudly, for if Hojanna was not firm, then Grandpere would be sterner.
    The excitement of the festive was much more in promise than in fact, and so Jobe felt betrayed and bored. She soon became resentful, and resolved not to enjoy it out of spite. Mid-meal was a chance to rest out of the heat, and sample all the new tastes—but to Jobe, it was just one more thing she could dislike. All the pickles, fruits and pastries from the Northern Islands were wasted on her. Their flavors seemed too bitter or too cloying, and Kuvig and Hojanna’s gentle praises—muffled oohs and ahhs—seemed only like a dumb show to convince her. Jobe was unimpressed. These red and orange tubers, for example, were just plain bad.
    Jobe would have rather had a simple meal of cold rice-cakes. She pushed her plate away and was sorry she had come. She could have had more fun at home than dragging like a rag doll at the end of Dida’s arm. If only they would let her go exploring by herself to see what she could see, that would be all right—but no, “You are still too young and precious, little mud-worm. If an Erdik were to see you, she would take you home to fry you for her children. We would miss you sorely.”
    â€œNo such thing as Erdiks,” Jobe said, with some doubt; then added, “Dida isn’t needed here. She could take me.”
    â€œBut,” said Kuvig in that patronizing tone that adults almost always used when explaining things to children, “later, we will need her, and if we cannot find her there will be no marriage. No, it is best that you both stay with us and stop whining, Jobe. You knew that we had business here. Perhaps it’s a mistake to take you anywhere.”
    So Jobe frowned and sighed and fidgeted—in fretful silence, which was the best she could—and tried to think of something she could do in a situation where there was nothing she could do but frown and sigh and fidget. Adults always thought that children should sit quietly and wait. Jobe felt this to be unreasonable and stern. Adults wanted just to sit and talk—that was unreasonable; especially when the sun was rising, the kites were begging for the wind, the west-smells reeked of birds and fish and the sea was singing songs. There were important things to do.
    But not for Jobe. She had to sit with Dida, Kuvig and Hojanna, in a tiny bamboo booth, set off from the wooden