Chapter 7
The supplies must be bought for travel, and the young people who would be going went around the city to get the best prices for what they intended to take. The plainsfolk had their own stalls in the market, with delicacies reminiscent of their own homeland, and the dried jerky for travel which was famous across the land. It was on the list. The young Alethosi also planned to carry plenty of oatmeal, for themselves as much as the mules, carrots, and onions, and salt. There was enough salt to make trade as well, because sometimes an ounce of good will was worth it.
Commandant Pythas had suggested that mules would be sturdier than asses, and Kaz had capitulated. The mules were named Orsida[1] and Thanato, truth-seeker and death-wish, the latter being a trifle self willed.
“Suits the rest of us,” quipped Protasion.
“Speak for yourself,” said Lelyn.
“I do,” said Protasion. “And for the rest of us. If we weren’t self-willed, we wouldn’t be crazy enough to take on such self-imposed tasks.”
“He’s so irritating when he’s right,” said Lelyn.
She and Kaz set off to purchase jerky. The market was loud and colourful. As well as regular shop stalls, opened up with horizontal shutters to form stalls below and covers above, there were stalls, built onto carts, brought into the city from outside, or stored in other premises, brought out to take within the market, where the many goods were loaded onto the stalls. Each commodity had its own placement within the market, fish and meat and cooked goods at one end, cloths, and clothing at the other, with pots and pans, pottery goods, basketwork, weapons, tools, all in between. The hammer of a farrier rang loudly, that of a cobbler made a higher-pitched ringing. The cries of the traders filling the air almost blocked out such loud noises as that, The smell of hot metal vied with cooking meats. The girls made their way towards the meat end, and headed for the colourful stall of the plainsfolk.
“You city folk don’t usually like our preserved meats,” said the stall holder to Lelyn’s request.
“Like, no; recognise its value for travel rations, yes,” said Lelyn. “We can’t always afford time to stop and hunt.”
“I can do you a good price if you are taking a significant amount,” said the plainswoman, who was manning the stall.
They dickered, and agreed on a price, and to have it delivered to the temple.
“I don’t think I was robbed,” said Lelyn. “I feel more bruised after that than after Harkon has been correcting an incorrect parrying move.”
Kaz laughed.
“Yes, I’d rather fight than have to speak and argue,” she said, then made a face. “I suppose if I’m a prophecy, I may have to speak in public.”
“I’ll get Protasion to heckle you, so you’re too busy being mad at him to feel ill about speaking,” suggested Lelyn. “Shall we have a glass of wine? I think we’ve earned it.”
Kaz nodded, and they moved into the plainsfolk-run ale house. There was an oddly-matched couple there, drinking and gambling. The male half of the couple was a big fellow, and looked like a plainsman, and did not trouble to hide pierced ears, or keep his hair short and neat as most city-dwellers did. His companion was very little taller than Kaz, definitely a woman, and no child, with red hair. She was playing five-finger-fillet, jumping her knife fast in between her fingers, getting faster and faster, whilst someone the girls quickly recognised as Stakis attempted to emulate her.
“Polia and Vulk don’t belong to any temple, but they are reckoned to be dangerous,” said Lelyn, quietly to Kaz. “She has reflexes like a cat.”
“She does,” said Kaz. “She looks as if she is respected; perhaps I can win as much respect, myself, despite being small.”
“Oh, I am sure you will,” said Lelyn. “She limits herself for not being attached to glyph-magic, but that’s her choice.”
Polia laughed as she finished the sequence.
“Now try this one,” she said. She moved slowly to show the pattern, a stab between thumb and forefinger, then between forefinger and middle finger; then back to the first position and on to between middle and ring fingers, going one further each time.
“Are you mad?” said Stakis. “That’s impossible at speed.”
Polia laughed; it was a sneering laugh. And she demonstrated how she could perform this move at speed.
“That’s outside the bet,” said Stakis.
“It is not,” said Polia. “Play, or pay up.”
“The hell, I will! You’re cheating somehow,” declared Stakis.
“Those are fighting words,” said Polia.
“Yes? Fight me then, if you dare, you little runt,” said Stakis.
“Very well.” Polia drew her shortsword.
Stakis drew his blade, and advanced, laughing.
He was not laughing for long.
First blood went to Polia, who ducked under his first wild swing, to spin to one side and cut him behind the knee.
“That’s going to handicap him,” said Kaz. “A similar place to where Alathan was wounded, and that caused him a lot of trouble.”.
“You are so cheeky, you know, hauling him off to deal with it like that,” laughed Lelyn.
“It worked.”
“It did,” said Lelyn. “Oh, that won’t end well, he’s opened himself up by trying to spin on the spot; she has a free blow.”
“That’s what temper will do,” said Kaz.
Polia’s sword slashed through Stakis’s guts, and he collapsed. His friends hastily picked him up.
“He owes me two sols,” said Polia.
“You’ll get it, but not if we don’t get him to a healer,” said one.
Kaz exchanged a look with Lelyn.
“Did we ought…”
“No, he’s never been anything but rude to either of us, and his friends are better trained than us, if they want to cast healing magic, let them,” said Lelyn. “He’s a lay member like us, and we aren’t obliged to help out people who get themselves into trouble.”
“I’m glad to have that point of doctrine cleared up,” said Kaz. “I won’t be displeased if it puts him off fighting forever. He is not very nice.”
“And the great lakes are damp,” said Lelyn.
Alethos spoke to the goddess of fate, Moraia
“Did you weave that future for the little trógling deliberately?” he demanded.
“Of course; but not, originally, from design,” she replied. “The coming of the Blood Moon disrupted the weft, and tore it, and I have been trying to mend the tears, and rejoin threads that should not have been cut short. Into the weave have come stained threads made of blood, malice, chaos, and evil, and these I need to bring to an end. But I must have shuttles on the loom, pieces on the board, if you will, and the girl has the spirit to cope. One day, she will face Daze in defiance as she diminishes him, and he will curse her. This is foretold, it is inevitable, because only by cursing another can I see a way for him to write into the web the way to his own downfall. And I can weave in other threads to make that curse a blessing. You know that causing immortality is beyond the gods without some flaw or drawback, for fate demands a price; but to curse it! That places her on the board as a truly powerful piece, to give her own race their own independent existence, and wrest them from Daze, incidentally healing, to some extent, the Blue Moon as well, though not all Toróg will see it that way. Are you so displeased that I have chosen one of yours to act?”
“I was taken aback at the prophecy,” said Alethos. “I feared the girl would be condemned to misery for eternity for not having any means to release her.”
“I am not so careless,” said Moraia. “I am the weaver, and the scar across my web will be harmonious once more.”
“I begin to see it. She is more than just another trógling with spirit,” said Alethos.
“I know,” said Moraia, lifting her shuttle to add a tracery to some life-web. “You will be happy enough in the end. I do know, you know.”
“I bow to your wisdom,” said Alethos.
Lelyn and Kaz met up with the others.
“All sorted?” asked Kaz.
“Yes, and mostly thanks to Evgon’s father,” said Protasion. “Look out; that’s Polia and Vulk. They’re dangerous, and they like to push people around.”
“We watched her take Stakis apart,” said Kaz. “He’s a fool. And he’ll be long healing and it will be costly.”
“Not our problem,” said Protasion. “Oh, my, what is that flashy fool up to?”
The flashy fool was, by his glyphs, a worshiper of Pollonis, who had inlaid goldwork on his ornate breastplate. He pushed through the crowd to Vulk, and pointed a finger at him.
“Cursed by chaos, shunned by light
Whimper now at my despite!
Turn and flee from my demand
Or I will kill you where you stand!”
“Is that the famous poetry of the Skyhealers?” asked Kaz, interested. “I heard it was bad, but I had no idea it was that bad.”
“Excruciating, isn’t it?” sniggered Protasion. “It’s said that Vulk is a Lycoid, and as Pollonis gives gifts and geasa the way our lord does, one of them is to sense chaos. I’d say he’d bitten off more than he can chew.”
“Or been bitten off by one who can chew,” said Kaz, as Vulk examined the self-righteous finger pointed at him, leaned forward, and bit it right off, to the howl of anguish from the unfortunate Pollonis worshipper.
“That has to smart,” said Protasion.
“Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘do you spit, or swallow?’” sniggered Svargia. “If he… yes, he’s swallowed it; can’t be reattached now. Someone’s going to have trouble with his swordplay without a divine intervention to regrow it.”
“He’s challenged him to a death-duel,” said Kaz.
“I doubt Vulk will take it up,” said Protasion. “He’s not about to annoy the authorities that much.”
Vulk, indeed, leaned over and patted the Pollonian on each cheek.
“Go home to mummy,” he growled, and turned and walked away, just as the Selenite guard appeared.
The interested crowd dispersed rapidly.
“It’s an interesting point of law,” said Protasion. “I mean, on the one hand, Vulk deliberately harmed that young man; but then, he was essentially assaulted out of the blue, and challenged. Does the right to point a finger end within biting distance?”
“I’d be inclined to think so, myself,” said Kaz. “How tiresome it must be to be obliged to poetise ritually when recognising someone with a chaos taint. I’m glad I chose Alethos not Pollonis. I thought of it, as being the antithesis of the darkness Toróg love.”
“They probably wouldn’t have had you,” said Lelyn.
“No, likely not,” said Kaz. “And I am happy where I am.”
They made their way back through the market.
“Do you know what?” said Kaz.
“No, but I expect you’re going go tell us,” said Protasion.
“I was just thinking how many things there are in the world, all of them for sale, and not one of them of the slightest use to me.”
“You have simple tastes, though,” said Lelyn.
“Yes. I just want to stock up on a few herbs,” said Kaz. “They won’t be as good as fresh, of course.”
“But better than nothing,” said Lelyn. “Get some for the pot as well as for healing.”
Kaz was amazed at the range of herbs and spices available, including more exotic spices from the east, and stocked up on what she wanted. She sniffed delicately to make her choices, and chose with care. It had been a useful trip, though she would be glad to be on their way.
She also purchased herself some rope, and a warmer cloak than she had. One never knew when such things might be useful, and though it was high summer, it was a long trip, and mountains were cold at night. But the season meant, at least, that warm clothing was marked down at the moment, and Kaz was well pleased.
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