Five minutes, Able signed. If he won’t come, we leave without him.
Wren nodded.
And don’t take off the hat.
Wren nodded. He hated the hat. It was round and flat, with a low brim and a stupid orange fluffy ball on top of it, but apparently a lot of kids his age wore them. Well, not his age. Kids his size. Younger ones.
Able held out his hand, and Wren took it, and together they went up the steps into the Tea House, hopefully looking to any casual observer like a father and son out for a quick cup of Mister Sun’s famous Dreamtime Blend. Wren was nervous, knowing the coming conversation wouldn’t be easy, and knowing no one else could have it but him.
But the instant they crossed through the door, Wren felt himself relax, like he was crawling back into a warm bed on a cold morning. Mister Sun’s Tea House was just like that.
The main room was a little dimmer than Wren’s eyes were used to, even coming in out of the night. It was lit mainly by little flickering lights placed all around that looked like something Mister Sun called candles, except real candles used real fire, he said. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. And Wren’s favorite thing: there was a wide pool with a little bridge over it, and real fish swimming in it. There was a fountain that fed the pool, made to look like a little stream, and another one going out the other side, so that the stream went around the entire central room – and the sound of it always gave Wren the impression of rain on a roof. It was a drowsy atmosphere, with a low drone of quiet conversation and the soothing scents of tea and herbs and honeyed cakes drifting through.
Mister Sun came over to greet his newest customers, like he did for every single one, hunched over with his crooked back and always his smile. “Hello, my friend,” he said, beaming. Mister Sun called everyone “my friend”. “Hello, so good to see you, my friend!”
When he got close, he gave a little start as he recognized Wren, and his eyes went to Able, who shook his head ever so slightly. Mister Sun nodded, hardly missing a beat, and held out his good hand to direct them towards an empty table towards the back.
No one actually knew what Mister Sun’s real name was, but Aron had told Wren that back a long time ago, when he first opened the Tea House, some woman had said he was the city’s night-time sun, and eventually everyone just started calling him that.
He escorted them through the main room, his warm patter comforting everyone he passed, reassuring them that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was going on. “We have seven teas tonight for special, only seven, I’m so sorry, my friend, but maybe tomorrow night you’ll come earlier?” He chuckled. “Out past bedtime, yes? Does Mother know? Boys’ night out, is it? Or, ha ha – boys snuck out while Mother has girls’ night out, I bet! I bet so, my friend, I bet so!” Though Mister Sun was friendly with everyone, he was truly a friend to the Governor, and doing a masterful job of covering Able’s silence with a rhythm of his own words that implied more than was actually there. A casual listener would’ve assumed there were two sides to the one-sided conversation, the soft-spoken father’s responses lost to the gentle hum of the room.
“Here you are, my friend,” he said, pulling a chair out for Wren. “Dreamtime as usual? Excellent, and for Father?”
We need to see Painter, Able signed.
“Two Dreamtime, very fine, very fine.” Mister Sun nodded. He bowed slightly, smiling all the way, and drifted easily towards the back room. “My friend, drink up and go home before Wife comes to find you!” he said to some regular at another table, earning a good-natured chuckle. He disappeared through a swinging door.
Wren kept his eyes on the table in front of him, drawing little figure eights with his index finger on the smooth, polished surface. Trying to think of what to say, how to say it.
A few moments later Mister Sun glided up to table with a tray balanced expertly on the back of his withered left hand, a small pot and two matching handleless mugs upon it. As he arranged the items on the table with his other hand, he leaned closer to Wren, as if listening intently.
“To see how we blend?” he said. “Of course, my friend, of course, if it is OK with Father?” Able nodded, and held up five fingers. “Five minutes. Yes, yes, come with me.” And Mister Sun stepped back, took Wren’s hand, and led him casually back to the back room, conveniently shielding Wren from the other customers by bending in front of him, talking the whole way. “I think you will find it very interesting, my friend, very interesting, and you can surprise Mother with what you learn. Unless Mother isn’t supposed to know!”