Chapter 15
I was 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 observed everything.
I had never seen a place like this before.
People were everywhere, from everywhere.
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, begging for 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.
“Anything I could help you with, lady?” the woman behind the stall asked.
“Thank you, I’m just looking.”
“Of course. I’ll be here if you change your mind. I’ve read almost all of what you can see with your eyes…well, at least for the romances. Those, I have read them all.”
“They’re my favourite, too,” I said, smiling at her.
“Then you’ll surely love this one—Love Prevails—it was some years ago nominated as—”
“The best book of the year. Yes, I’ve heard. I’ve actually just finished it. I loved it.”
“Frodrick got what he deserved in the end, didn’t he?”
I giggled, nodding in agreement.
“Then I’m certain you’ll love this one. It’s called Against the Tide. It’s about a young, spirited lady, promised to a nobleman to be his wife, but the love she has for poetry and writing leads her to a thrilling adventure.”
“Sounds well within the area of my liking. How much?”
“It’s two silvers.”
“Would you go for one silver?”
“It’s supposed to go for three but I offered it to you, a fellow romance reader, for two. I’m afraid I cannot go any lower than that.”
The little voice in my head whispered to me, You shouldn’t have spent all of your coin for nothing. I ignored it and decided I’d rather buy something small for the others.
“Thank you, then, I’ll think about it,” I told her, handing over the book. “Have a nice day.”
“Suit yourself.”
A fruity smell drew my attention, and I found myself following the sweet whiff.
My eyes widened when I beheld the dunes of sweets and candies—all shapes and sizes, all flavours and colours.
A particular candy, one that I had never seen or imagined before, caught my eye.
They were the size of my palm and shaped like bones.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Those are called bones of surprise,” the merchant replied, moving closer. “You have to bite one end, drink the surprise fruity liquid, and then chew on the rest. The young ones call them fun.”
“How much?”
“One silver for four.”
“Mmm, would you do five for one silver?”
“Well, I cannot say no to a pretty lady such as yourself, can I?”
I gave him a small smile as we swapped the silver and bag.
I thought I’d give my luck a try, so I returned to the bookstall.
“Hi, me again. Do you have any romances that cost one silver?” I asked, with hopeful eyes.
“I’m sorry, lady, they all start at two.”
“Oh, all right. Good day.” I turned on my heel and almost slammed into Aegir’s chest. “Gods,” I muttered, with a slight flinch.
“We’re going near the monument to get some refreshments while we wait for our weapons. Join us.”
His men were already gulping down what looked and smelled like a pomegranate drink. Aegir looked my way and gestured with his head, an unspoken come here.
He handed me one of the cups and sipped from another.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a small sip.
“Boreas, that’s sweet,” he said, wincing at his drink. I gave him a small smile that came with a subtle shrug. I didn’t mind the sweetness at all.
A young boy, perhaps nine years old, inched closer to Aegir and asked, “Sir? Is it true that your white friends are Ice Fae from Silch?”
Aegir raised his brow at the kid but then leaned forward and touched his cup, turning his pomegranate drink into flavoured ice. The boy gasped in excited disbelief, then grinned, poking the ice with his finger.
“It’s cold! It’s ice!” the boy announced to anyone who would listen. Then he sprinted towards the other children, a finger pointed at Aegir. A wave of wide-eyed little ones came running towards us. They surrounded him from every angle. Aegir turned to the merchant and said, “One for every child.”
I had never seen so many happy and fanatic faces at once.
I couldn’t help my smiles. Alarik also joined the cause, and he, too, ended up surrounded by children.
I think his misty shadows didn’t like it.
They swirled and twisted all around him.
Georgious must have also noticed, as he rushed to set some distance between his brother and the surrounding wave of screaming kids.
“It’s so cold!” one of the girls announced, her face bright in awe.
“It’s like a cold rock!” another boy exclaimed.
Then I felt a gentle tug at my waist, and when I looked down, I saw a little girl, not older than eight, pulling at my dress, a cup in her hand.
“Hello, little one,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Marla. Do you think he could make it cold for me, please?”
“Let’s ask him.” I took her free hand. “Lord Hailin, Marla here would like to ask you something.” The girl extended her arm.
“Hello, Marla.” Aegir placed his fingertip on the lip of her cup.
She smiled broadly at him, letting out a giggle, then turned towards me and said, “You’re so lucky to be his lady. He must make your drinks cold all the time.”
“Oh, I’m not his la—”
“Marla, would you believe me if I told you that she refuses to accept even my ice-cold cups of water?”
The girl looked at me in utter disbelief. “What’s wrong with you, lady?” Then she just walked away, swaying her head side to side. She left me with parted lips. I did not see that one coming. Aegir snickered, finding pleasure in my blushed face, of course.
“The merchant should be done by now. Wait for us here.”
The seven of them returned, and I couldn’t help but gawk. I couldn’t believe that men—males—would travel and camp for days, only to spend one day, dawn to dusk, at a market. Just to buy weapons. Two bags each!
Aegir looked at his men and said, “Let’s go lock these in Georgious and Alarik’s room. Then we’ll have some fun, ey?”
“Eyyy,” all six of them agreed.
Fun?