Solimar, page 2
“Abuela, why shouldn’t men and women go, especially when in some cases, the women are better riders, the actual artisans, and more charming and knowledgeable salespeople? It makes no sense. If I was king—”
“It’s how things have always been.” Abuela patted Solimar on the knee. “And how things are. For now.”
Solimar slumped and muttered, “The way of the land.”
Lázaro flew to her shoulder.
“Just do me one favor,” said Abuela as she sorted through the plants in her basket. “Please don’t bring this up to your father again tonight. He has enough on his mind preparing for tomorrow. Wait, at least, until after the expedition to persist. Then never give up. Yes?”
Solimar smiled. “Yes.”
Abuela stood and scanned the area. “Now, I’ve found almost everything I need to prepare the medicines for the journey. But before we head home, help me find Mentha spicata.”
“Mentha what?”
“Mentha spicata. Spearmint. It’s an herb I need for medicinal tea that treats headaches and stomach ailments. It usually grows in sunny patches.” Abuela sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Now, where is it?”
Solimar pointed downstream and blurted, “There. Below those boulders!” She frowned. Why had she said that?
Abuela lifted her skirt and hurried through tall grass and over rocks. “It’s a bit of a slope. Is it safe enough?”
“No!” cried Solimar, startling Lázaro into a nearby tree. “The boulders are slick and you’re going to—”
Abuela tumbled from view.
“—fall.” Solimar ran to Abuela and found her sitting in a clump of greenery.
Abuela laughed. “No harm done. And look. I landed in the Mentha spicata!” She plucked several large sprigs. “I’m glad you knew this spot. Help me up, please. And let’s get back to the castle. The sun is low, and there’s much to be done before the send-off in the morning.”
Solimar helped Abuela stand, then followed her through the forest.
As Solimar fell behind, Lázaro flew to her shoulder, and she whispered, “I’ve never seen that herb before. I just knew where it was and that she would fall. But I don’t know how I knew. You believe me, don’t you?”
Lázaro twittered before he flew after Abuela, the sun catching the silver band on his leg, which was stamped with the royal crest.
Solimar glanced back across the creek at the fir trees blanketed in monarchs. “Lucky guess…I guess.”
I never grow tired of this magnificent view,” whispered Abuela.
Solimar smiled and nodded. They had emerged from the forest and stopped to admire the castle bathed in the amber sunshine of late afternoon.
To the north, a jury of massive mountaintops rose above the kingdom. Somewhere within those peaks, the fountainhead of Río Diablo sent torrents of water over great falls. To the east and west, the oyamel forest blanketed the valley and the surrounding foothills. And to the south, a steep road snaked away from the village and down through rocky passes until it reached the flatlands and, somewhere far beyond, the bustling harbor town of Puerto Rivera.
As Solimar and Abuela approached the village, Lázaro flew ahead and settled in a tree near the small outdoor marketplace. Flags emblazoned with the village’s emblem, a large monarch, marked each corner of the bustling town square. Familiar sounds welcomed them: Wagon wheels rumbled, fountains gurgled, and parrots squawked. A group of children ran past, laughing.
The faint smell of corn from warm tortillas pulled Solimar toward a vendor who flipped them on a comal over an outdoor fire.
“Hola, Solimar. Is it true? They have arrived?”
“Yes, Ricardo! The first wave, dazzling as ever, with many still in the sky.”
“They will settle. Our forest is their chosen home. I hope they continue to honor us with their presence. They are what define us, after all.”
Solimar nodded in agreement. People from the surrounding kingdoms and beyond recognized San Gregorian art by its distinctive monarch-inspired features: elaborate masquerade masks, quilted clothing, painted tin and wooden boxes, delicate embroidery, beaded brooches, and that for which they were most known: the muñecas de trapo, rag dolls with crowns of ribbons and the distinctive orange-and-black butterfly wings.
“Will we see you at the send-off tomorrow?” asked Abuela.
Ricardo tipped his hat. “Yes, Doña Ana Socorro. No one would miss it. The entire village is praying for the animals to be surefooted so the caravan will reach Puerto Rivera safely. And for fair skies.” He folded a tortilla in quarters and handed it to Solimar. “That is the biggest question right now. Will it rain or shine? What does our young princess-in-waiting think?”
Solimar blurted, “Intermittent and brief downpours this afternoon and tonight, a light sprinkling after midnight continuing through early morning. Partly sunny skies for the departure.” Surprised at her words, she took a step back.
“Solimar! There is not a cloud in the sky,” said Abuela.
“I meant…I…I think that’s what the weather will be.” Awkwardly, she smiled. “Thank you, Ricardo, for the tortilla.”
“You’re welcome. And let us hope you are right about the weather,” he said, tipping his hat again. “Until the morning.”
As they progressed through the village, Solimar took a bite of the still-warm tortilla, then tossed a piece toward Lázaro, who caught it midflight and carried it away to a rooftop.
Ahead, Solimar noticed her friend Josefina at the flower stand. She had been Solimar’s mathematics tutor last year.
“Josefina!” called Solimar, hurrying toward her.
The young woman spun around, holding a flower. “Solimar! How are you?” Josefina kissed her, then nodded and curtsied to Abuela. “Doña Ana Socorro.”
Solimar grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m fine. I miss you. My new tutor isn’t nearly as fun as you were. How are you?” She grinned. “And Arturo?”
Josefina sighed. “As you probably know, he’s been promoted to the king’s stable master, so he’s leaving with the caravan in the morning on the expedition. He asked to meet me tonight, but he was so serious and standoffish that I am worried that his feelings for me have changed. What will he tell me?”
Again, Solimar’s words rushed out. “Only that he loves you and he will ask you to—”
Josefina gasped. “Stop!” Her eyes filled with hope and joy. “Solimar, are you aware of something I’m not?”
“Yes.” Confused, Solimar rubbed her forehead.
Josefina hugged Solimar. “Don’t say another word. I want to be surprised.” Grinning, she kissed Solimar on the cheek and hurried away.
Abuela pulled Solimar close. “I can’t imagine what possessed you to say such a thing. You must not play with Josefina’s emotions. The heart is a very tender thing. You cannot predict Arturo’s intentions. Now, what will happen if he does not propose?”
“He will.” She put a hand over her mouth. The words kept slipping out!
Abuela took a step back and shook her head. “Solimar! You must not presume—”
Before Abuela could continue, Mónica and Vera, two of Campeón’s friends, burst from the dress shop. They curtsied to Abuela, then crowded around Solimar, politely kissing her cheeks.
“How are the king’s plans for the send-off?” asked Vera. “Will it proceed as usual tomorrow?”
The words spilled. “The preparations are going accordingly, except there is one lame horse that will be left behind.”
“And Prince Campeón?” asked Mónica, lowering her voice. “Is it true he will make an announcement about choosing a bride tomorrow? Or does he intend to wait until the caravan returns?”
Solimar plunged into an answer. “My brother will not make an announcement about choosing a bride tomorrow, and at this time he does not intend to return with the caravan.”
Abuela stood straighter. “Please excuse my granddaughter. She is mistaken. I’ve heard nothing about a lame horse. The king has spoken to the prince about choosing a bride. And you can be sure he will return with the caravan.”
The girls looked at each other, then back at Solimar.
She blushed and stared at her boots. “My apologies. I misspoke. My grandmother knows far better than I.”
Mónica and Vera sighed with relief, curtsied to Abuela, linked arms, and continued on their way.
Abuela set her mouth in a straight line. “This is not like you, Solimar. I’ve never known you to behave this way. I hope you are not unwell.”
Solimar had to make an excuse fast, or she’d find herself in bed facing one of Abuela’s foul-tasting medicinals or stinky poultices.
“I’m fine, Abuela. Really. I think I was just trying to make conversation. And I’m a little tired and light-headed. Except for that bite of tortilla, I haven’t eaten anything today.”
“Well, no wonder you’re not yourself. Come along.” She walked decisively toward the end of the street and through the barbican, the two stone towers flanking the entrance to the castle grounds.
As Solimar followed, she whistled for Lázaro, who dove to her shoulder.
In front of the castle, Abuela crossed the spacious courtyard with its five-tiered fountain and reflecting pool. Instead of using the main entrance, though, she veered toward the side and headed down a winding stone path that led to the back verandas and the royal gardens.
María Batista, Solimar’s closest friend, was just leaving the animals’ patio with a large basket of eggs. Her auburn hair dangled in two long braids, and her cheeks were perpetually blushed, just like her mother’s. Señora Batista was the castle’s head chef, and María sometimes helped her in the kitchen.
Solimar rushed to give her a hug. They had grown up side by side, and even though María was almost two years younger, it made no difference to either of them.
María curtsied to Abuela. “Good afternoon, Doña Ana Socorro. With respect, I have an important request.”
“María, for you anything, if I can grant it,” said Abuela.
“Arturo, the stable master, would have come himself, but he’s tending to a lame horse. He asked for a small bouquet from the garden.” María put her hand over her heart, leaned forward, and whispered. “I shouldn’t say, but it’s so romantic. Arturo told the stable boy, who told my mother, who confided in me that he is going to propose to Josefina tonight. Might I cut some flowers for him?”
“Of course,” said Abuela, turning to look at Solimar. “It seems my granddaughter had already heard the news as well.”
She hadn’t, but Solimar smiled weakly.
“María, please ask your mother to send some food and tea to Solimar’s room,” said Abuela. “She needs to eat and rest.”
Before Solimar followed Abuela, she grabbed María’s hand. “Can you be the one to bring the tea? I have something to show you.”
María smiled and nodded.
As Solimar hurried through the garden after Abuela, the sun disappeared behind dark clouds. A flash of lightning lit the sky. Thunder cracked and echoed in the hills.
Lázaro screeched and shook. Solimar took him from her shoulder and cradled him in her arms, pulling the ends of the rebozo over him. “Lázaro is as frightened of thunder as Serafina.”
“The poor things,” said Abuela. “I hope Serafina, the old dear, is safe inside the greenhouse, and that she has her sock. Otherwise she’ll be frantic.”
Abuela’s cat was affectionately attached to a green woolen sock she had pulled from the laundry a week ago. When it was not in her possession, she caterwauled until it was found.
Fat raindrops splattered on the terra-cotta stones, causing Solimar and Abuela to dash beneath a balcony to avoid a downpour. While momentarily trapped, Abuela tilted her head and studied Solimar. “Curious, the weather. Another of your declarations came true. Now I am beginning to think a spell has befallen you.”
Solimar shuddered and shook her head. Abuela would make her drink wormwood tea, or something equally disgusting, to break a spell. “That’s not it. Just…lucky guesses.”
Abuela raised her eyebrows. “Let’s see if that’s so. Solimar, will I find Serafina safe inside the greenhouse or huddled and trembling outside?”
Solimar braced for words to jump from her mouth. But they didn’t. She forced a bright smile. “I have no idea!”
Abuela sighed. “Hmm. All right, then. Lucky guesses.” She kissed Solimar on both cheeks. “I need to find Serafina, so off I go.” She held the purple rebozo above her head and hurried away.
Solimar darted through the rain, too, and into the castle. Safe in her room, she settled Lázaro on his perch. He shook out his feathers and quickly hopped to his food tray, which had been filled with fruit, berries, and seeds.
Solimar’s balcony faced west with a view of the oyamel forest. She opened the balcony doors and gazed out. The short cloudburst she’d predicted was over, and blue sky already pebbled the clouds.
How had she known about the weather? Was she under the influence of a spell? But if that was so, why hadn’t she answered the question about Serafina?
Solimar crisscrossed the red rebozo around her, holding it snug. She wasn’t cold, but she shivered anyway.
Solimar spread the rebozo on her bed and studied it, still wondering about what had happened in the forest.
There was a quick knock on the door, then María peeked in. “My mother sent chamomile tea and a sandwich.”
“María, come and look at this!” Solimar pointed to the rebozo.
María set the tray on a small table, then turned to the rebozo. “It’s beautiful! And the pattern of the wings shimmers orange. How did it get this way?”
Solimar put her hands together, pleading. “Promise not to tell anyone. My mother or father mustn’t find out, because I was someplace I wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Best friends keep secrets,” said María. “Of course I won’t tell.”
“I crossed the creek to get a better look at the butterflies.”
María put a hand over her mouth. “But the creek…”
“I know. It’s not allowed. I just wanted to sit beneath the sacred firs for the arrival. And it was magnificent. I wish you could have been there. I was holding the rebozo out to my sides when a swarm of butterflies landed on it. That’s when I heard singing.” Solimar frowned. “Or at least I think I did. Then there was some sort of…frenzy. After it stopped, the air was all sparkly and the rebozo looked like that.”
“Maybe when the butterflies landed on it, the sun somehow tinted the fabric with their images. It’s so pretty. I’d wear it every day,” said María. “I’d even drape it over my horse’s neck in parades.”
For as long as she could remember, she and María had trained together at the royal stables. Even though Solimar was accomplished, María was the best rider and jumper in the kingdom.
“María, there is something odd about it, too. When I’m wearing it and someone asks me a question…” She hesitated. “I seem to know the answer. I predicted the cloudburst, and a lame horse at the stables, and that Arturo was going to propose to Josefina. And no one told me any of those things ahead of time.”
“Really?” María looked skeptical. “There must be a logical explanation.”
Solimar picked up the rebozo and wrapped it around herself. “Help me test it. Ask me something about the future.”
“That’s easy. When will you and I ride down the mountain in the caravan to El Gran Mercado like we’ve always dreamed?”
Nothing came to Solimar. “I don’t know.” She thought back to the questions she’d answered earlier. They all had been about something that would happen today or tomorrow—within the next twenty-four hours. “María, ask me something about tonight’s dinner. Something I couldn’t possibly know.”
“Let me think…Well, my mother had planned to make a pineapple cake for dessert, but only minutes ago she changed her mind. What will she serve instead?”
Solimar sank to the bed, puzzled. “I…I couldn’t say.”
María sat next to her and patted her hand. “It’s all right. Maybe your premonitions were just coincidences. Think about it. The weather changes as quickly as our minds in San Gregorio. Everyone knows Arturo loves Josefina and means to propose sooner or later. And didn’t we see a horse limping at the stables last week?”
Doubtful, Solimar nodded. It hadn’t felt like coincidences. She tried to remember the conditions when she had blurted out the answers before. She’d been wearing the rebozo, someone had asked her a question, while she was…outside. Was that it? She had to be outside? But she’d been outside during the cloudburst when she and Abuela huddled beneath the balcony, and she couldn’t answer the question about Serafina. Did the clouds or rain have anything to do with it? Could this intuition be affected by weather? As she thought back, a realization settled. Every time she’d made a prediction she’d been…in the sun!
“I just thought of something.” She flung open the double doors and pulled María onto the now-sunny deck. “Ask me again about the dessert.”
María rolled her eyes and sighed. “What will my mother serve for dessert tonight?”
“Orange flan.”
María’s mouth dropped open. “How did you guess?”
“I don’t know. It just came to me. Ask me something else. Maybe about the expedition. Something I couldn’t already know.”
“Hmm. What about this? When I talked to Arturo only an hour ago, he mentioned that your father had just decided on the horse he would ride in the lead tomorrow. Which stallion will have the honor of wearing the king’s colors?”
“Saturno.”
María clapped. “That’s amazing!”
“So you believe me, right? There’s something magical about the rebozo.”
María smiled and winced at the same time. “Magical? That would be a stretch of the imagination. But you definitely have a great intuition, and you’re very clever at guessing…”
“But, I wasn’t—”
“Soli, don’t be silly. Like I said before, there’s always a logical reason.…” She paced for a few seconds, then spun around and held up a finger. “You did see me earlier with a large basket of eggs, and the only dessert my mother could possibly make with so many eggs is a flan, of course. And orange flan is Campeón and your father’s favorite. It’s logical that she’d make what they love the night before they leave.”
