6
Ro
The day started off smoothly. We hit the markets once the morning rush began, having prior knowledge of military postings, and tactfully avoided their line of sight.
My bow and quiver remained stashed in the surrounding forest so I could wear a comfortable blue kurta, a prominent fashion in Windguard. Braxius would have perched on my shoulder all day long if he were here. He loved when my clothing matched his scales, but my personal rule kept him safely on the other side of The Serpentine Line.
Rav and Tio both adorned kurta’s as well, Rav’s gold that held a sheen in the sun, and Tio’s a simple cream with beige embroidery along the seams. Splitting in three different directions, we set out to tackle our objectives.
Familiar spices rent the air, calling upon childhood memories from a time I called Windguard home. Cardamom and clove, turmeric and cumin, scents that made your mouth water and stomach grumble.
A small group of young women strolled through the market, arms linked, melodic laughter softening the threatening disposition of posted soldiers casting judgmental glares. The girls had matching henna designs decorating their arms. I assumed they were sisters preparing for a celebration of some kind.
Their jovial expressions turned my thoughts to my own sister. If she and I hadn’t been forced to flee, and if I didn’t possess magic, in another life, we could have been strolling Hava City’s market, shopping for ceremonial finery and participating in traditions that surrounded us with family and friends.
As mourning what could have been began fraying the edges of my heart, reality quickly sobered my fanciful sentiments.
Thrown together execution stands littered the city. No one even stopped to look twice at the harbingers of death. Those sisters didn’t acknowledge the ratty nooses and the blood-soaked planks that made my stomach twist. They carried on, so accustomed to the constant looming danger. I assumed they had no magic in their blood. What a privileged family they were.
My mother and I had been lucky. If magic had been more present in our heritage, our eye color would have led us to death. I guess when decades are spent murdering and chasing away those with magic presenting features, a sort of evolution occurs. We’d become like chameleons, hiding in plain sight. That, or our magic had become so diluted there wasn’t enough to influence our appearance. Perhaps that’s why my power was such a small, insignificant one. The last dregs of it from my ancestral line.
The thriving market bustled with hundreds of people, making the walking paths more congested the deeper I traveled. Hava City had one of the largest populations in all of Windguard, being the city closest to the offshoot from the Splits, thereby gaining the most port access. Anything you could dream of, chances were there was a vendor here who sold it.
I made my way to the produce section, acquiring a weaved basket amidst a delicate twirl and slipping past its vendor without notice. A mask of passive inquiry fell over my face, a shopper in need of nothing specific with a hint of boredom. Excited faces were the targets of pushy salespeople. Better to spend their time charming someone eager than convincing someone melancholy.
Glances passed over me quickly, giving me the perfect opening to scope out the selection. After all, who would suspect the customer with a face judging their product as inferior to their standards? After ten minutes of wandering, my basket already contained several different items. Not one lick of suspicion or coin exchanged.
Familiar blond-streaked curls came into view as Tio executed a different approach by fully engaging a male vendor about his ointments and tinctures. Tio’s loud, enthusiastic laugh bellowed out, that contagious charm dominating the conversation. The vendor appeared thoroughly praised when Tio pointed to a specific item on a tall shelf at the back. As the man turned to retrieve it for his new favorite customer, Tio’s fingers gracefully wrapped around a couple vials from a basket on display and tucked them in his pocket. His shoulder bag already bulged with what I assumed were the medical supplies he’d been tasked to nab.
By the time the clueless vendor returned, Tio casually glanced among the crowd, as if simply waiting for the man’s service to resume. I fought against my smirk before blatantly ignoring him on my way past. Rav had retreated somewhere among the crowd, here for a different type of item: information.
There were a few Windguard residents sympathetic to our cause who readily shared current affairs of the kingdom. King Amir Taja carefully curated a sense of fear among his people, and skewed the information that was spread about his rule.Only those who bore witness within its borders knew the morose truth of the standard of living here. My skin nearly shivered in the humid, overheated market, considering what atrocities were blanketed by an overabundant military presence.
I passed a soldier whose eyes landed on me and remained. A quick change in approach had me smiling broadly and waving. Immediately annoyed, his gaze wandered back to the crowd. The military were ordered to be intimidating, ruthless. They were trained in the languages of violence and intolerance. Any act that provoked or challenged them would be met with unkind force. Most who wandered through the markets kept their heads down, ensuring to stay out of the way. One wrong look to a soldier on the wrong day could end very badly. As much as my stomach churned to show any sort of friendliness, it was the only sure-fire way for them to dismiss me. Better for them to think me a flippant chit than a criminal mastermind.
A short, balding man led a parade of donkeys with saddlebags packed to the brim. They funneled behind the first row of vendors, in the stone walled alley space that let merchants stock their stations. My attention snagged on a dirty bandage around one of the donkey’s legs, along with the jagged, puss-filled slice that scored the skin well past the wrapping. Her mental cries of agony cut through the noise.
I was moving before I could think. My elbows shoved those in my way, earning grunts and warnings. I kept tabs on the man with the animal caravan as I backtracked against the flow of foot-traffic. My gaze hurriedly searched the crowd, scanning for a face I recognized. Tio, to my luck, was still schmoozing at the same stand I’d left him.
“Hey,” I whispered, nearly breathless and against time. “I need a healing balm. Now.”
He didn’t hesitate, dismissing the vendor with sincere sounding apologies before ushering me away from the stall.Assessing we were far enough away, he reached into his pocket, retrieving the collection he’d acquired. “What do you need?” By gods, he was a veritable dispensary.
“Something with cloverbane.” I scoured the labels until I found the medicinal ingredient, an antiseptic for infection to treat Tio’s bite.
With the jar clutched in my grasp, I slunk back through the crowd, noting where the man had stopped. He unhooked a pack and walked it over to a stand, engaging in a conversation with the vendor.
I acted, stepping behind the invisible line that separated customers from clerks and their stock. On approach to the injured creature, I spoke to her mind, telling her I was here to help treat her wound and that she’d have to be silent while I did. She agreed. Crouching low, I unscrewed the lid and sunk my fingers into the goopy salve, mindful that I didn’t use all of it. The wound was wet under the slick goop, but I spread it as evenly as I could.
“HEY. What are you doing?!” The owner returned before I could sneak away, cornering me behind the merchant line where I shouldn’t be.
Well shit. So much for keeping a low profile.
“Get away from my cargo!” he shouted.
I knew I should run. Knew that this would be my only opportunity to remain unidentifiable. Yet an anger coursed in my veins over this man’s blatant mistreatment of this animal, his only concern for the goods that could yield him a profit.
Instead of running, I stood, turning to face him with a searing look. “I was treatingyouranimal. Don’t you know she was in pain? Or did you not stop to consider that when you havecointo gather?” Pointed, targeted words that struck the man like a slap to the face. “How would you like it if you were forced tostrut around all day with a gash to your thigh, hm?” The dagger I raised between us buoyed my words.
