He stared at me for a while, then said, “Come on, let’s go meet the others.”
The males were already at the bar waiting for us, a few empty pint glasses close to their propped elbows.
CHAPTER 15
Iwas already in need of another bath. The sun was harsh on us. Well, not all of us. Aegir and Alarik didn’t share that same burden. I glimpsed white mist forming at the corners of Aegir’s mouth, and he didn’t seem angry to me.
We walked along the endless strip and I observedeverything. I had never seen a place like this before. People were everywhere,fromeverywhere. Most were Earthens, both from Ramel and Jebel. Well, I presumed they were Jebeli from their dark complexion—shades darker than Aegir’s—and their tightly coiled black hair, often decorated with beads and golden pins. I may have stared at some, fascinated by their flawless and unblemished skin. I also glimpsed Fae of the forest. Fair skin, brown hair. Their flowing green attire told me that they came from Sijar, reminding me of Faern.
Along the strip, people gathered like a chain of beads on a bracelet. They stood in front of the scattered musicians that enriched the strip with music, throwing coins into the musicians’ hats and cases. Some peered out from the many windows and balconies, observing the passersby. Others set up small market tents and stalls, selling handmade decorative items.
Everyone appeared as if they had not a care in the world.
Well, almost everyone. Some appeared poor and invisible to many…homeless, perhaps, with their mucky skin and bony statures. Some extended their arm, a cup in their hand, beggingfor coins. Others drank ale and smoked hesh as they begged. It felt wrong.
My gaze moved to the sight of running and giggling children, and it turned my downturned lips upward. Many played with marbles and wooden, noisy toys. A group of young girls laughed as they skipped rope to the beat of the music. They reminded me of Sabi—I imagined how she would have fit in with a group like that.
I didn’t have to be told to know that we had arrived at the Dunehaven Square—its name a misnomer, considering that it was not a square at all, but a circle.
The Dunehaven Market was made up of a variety of stalls, lined up one next to another, forming a border along the circumference. In the middle of the square was a massive, polished sandstone monument of Amfir. It stood on a squarish sandstone platform, each side surrounded by a set of long steps. Fae and humans alike sat and sprawled on the shaded parts of the stairs.
Moving my head left to right, I watched the variety of stalls, their vendors, and the people that gathered around them.
“The finest silk!” one man shouted.
“Weapons! Swords, daggers, and more,” the other merchant yelled, repeating it over and over.
“Toys and sweets,” a young man called.
“Books and journals,” a middle-aged lady bellowed.
I wasn’t surprised at all to see Aegir and his men hurrying towards the weapons stall with as much enthusiasm as the children approaching the toys and sweets stalls. I trailed behind.
The weapons section, I thought, was excessively large. The stall, four times as wide as any of the others, was piled with all kinds of sharp things, ranging from daggers, swords, knives—some that could be folded, others that could be thrown—to axes, spears, slings, bows, and anything in between.
“Look at this one,” Torvin said, gleaming with excitement and grinning at a polished silver sword.
“We have to get at least two of them,” Joel added.
Alarik was silent as usual, quietly assessing the throwing knives. Torvin and Theodor, on the other hand, could surely be heard from the other side of the market.
Aegir was taking his godsdamned time looking at the long line of axes. He assessed them from every angle, weighing and tossing them in his palm.
I strolled along the length of the stall, not looking at anything in particular, but then, at the far end, something caught my eye. Either its blend of colours—a gradient, ranging from sand to dark brown with hues of orange—or its intricate design made me settle my gaze on it. When I neared, I realised that what I eyed was a magnificent bow made of sturdy wood. As I traced my fingertips along its spine, I could feel that the designs were not painted but instead carved—burned, perhaps. Its length was engraved with the different stages of the moon cycle, starting from the waning crescent to the full moon and down to the waxing crescent.
“It’s a beaut, isn’t it?” a young, handsome man with long, brown hair said from behind the stall. “Osage orange wood, making it both durable and practical. Its designs are made by an exceptionally talented craftsman, carved by hand with a burning metal rod. The asking price is two gold coins, but for a lovely lady such as yourself, I will go down to one gold and ten silvers.”
“Oh, no. I’m only admiring its beauty. I wouldn’t know how to use it anyway,” I replied, in accismus. Not to mention that I could never afford something like that.
“I’m likewise admiring your beauty, milady. May I assist you in anything else, perhaps a throwing knife or a—”
“I want another four of these,” Aegir piped up from behind me.
“Of course, sir. If you’ll excuse me, milady.”
The adjacent stall also caught my eye—or perhaps my ear—at the sound of “Books and journals!” so as soon as Aegir shifted his gaze, I slipped away.
I looked at the variety of books with warmth in my chest. They ranged from poems to riddles, fables, fiction novels, and my favourite, romances.
