Chapter 69 #2
The younger woman returned the bow, while the elder inclined her head.
“Blackwood-Veyrde?” the woman asked, arching her brow. “Then, do come inside, as we have something you might be interested in.” With one hand on her chest and a dip of her head, she added, “I am Su Lian. And this is my husband’s mother, Ru Rong. You’ve met our MeiMei.”
“I taught him to write ‘dog,’” the girl proudly announced.
Ru Rong arched an eyebrow. “Then you’ve taught him one of the most useful words in any language.”
As they stepped inside, Alexander took another look at their clothes—the weaving of their belts, the beads along MeiMei’s hem, the layered stones glittering without being gaudy.
Symbols—some floral, some geometric—ran down one sleeve of the elder woman’s outer robe.
Similar designs decorated Su Lian’s belt.
Not random embroidery, he realized, but the visual language of a people.
They were Talharen.
The Talhar were nomads of the Nine Kingdoms—generations living on the move, their homes in lacquered wagons or patterned tents, their history stitched into clothes and carved into wood. Not a tribe bound by blood or region, but by a shared way of life: trade, storytelling, and the open sky.
Of course. That explained MeiMei. Her talk of caravans, her steady hand with a brush, the way she carried herself like someone used to strangers and change.
Inside, the shop smelled of aged wood, saffron, and citrus oil. Sunlight filtered through latticed shutters, catching on glass and polished bones. Dark shelves lined the walls—velvet trays of enamelled jewellery, painted vases, and on the far wall, desert beads threaded with horsehair or reed.
A merchant’s collection, curated through years of travel.
Alexander’s eyes went to the centre display: a glass case elevated on a stand. Inside rested a limyerite crystal, larger than two fists pressed together. The kind of specimen that required formal registration with the Issoirean Mining Guild.
He stepped closer. The crystal shimmered under the filtered sunlight, its clear core catching hints of iridescence, like the sheen on a raven’s wing.
But what caught his attention was the imperfection running just beneath the surface. A pale fracture, not a crack from damage, but a ghostlike filament—a natural inclusion that was part of its formation process. The sort of flaw that might make a crystal undesirable to most, but no less beautiful.
His fingers itched to examine it properly, but he kept his hands behind his back.
“Does this shop belong to your family?” He asked as Su Lian returned with a pot of tea and a small stack of porcelain cups. Behind her, Ru Rong carried two platters—one piled with nut cakes, the other with dried persimmon slices arranged like flower petals.
Su Lian smiled as she poured. “It was my father’s, and his father’s before him. When he passed away a few months ago, it came to my brother and me.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Alexander said, stepping closer to accept a cup.
She dipped her head. “Thank you. I wasn’t here when it happened. I married into a Talharen family ten years ago, and back then, X?en-Sarai was . . . not a place one could leave and return to easily. The borders were closing. Famine swept the entire kingdom. Political unrest made travel dangerous.”
There was a brief pause as she placed the teapot down. “It wasn’t until the new emperor took the throne that things began to change. Only then could I return. But by the time I arrived, my father was already gone.”
Ru Rong, now seated beside her, reached out and gently took her daughter-in-law’s hand.
“Us Talharen believe the soul lingers for one hundred days after death. Not to haunt or burden, but to finish their last steps, to make peace, or simply to sit in the sunlight with their loved ones one last time.”
Su Lian glanced at her, eyes glimmering.
“Your father waited for you. He saw you step through that door.” Ru Rong gave her hand a soft squeeze.
For a moment, the only sound was the clink of porcelain and the rustle of MeiMei settling onto a chair beside her mother.
Then Su Lian smiled, and the air lightened. “He always was stubborn.”
Ru Rong snorted. “Stubborn men raise stubborn daughters.”
Alexander didn’t speak at first, his fingers curling around the warm cup. “Fathers leave their marks in strange ways,” he said. “Even when they’re gone long before they should be.”
Ru Rong’s gaze, full of playful shrewdness earlier, gentled. Su Lian gave a small nod, her expression peaceful now.
Alexander turned his attention toward the crystal again. “How long has that piece been in your family?” he asked, gesturing subtly toward the glass case.
Su Lian followed his gaze. “That?” She set her cup down and crossed the room. Alexander followed her.
“My father acquired it years ago, before I married. He purchased it at an auction in Niewberg.”
“He had a good eye.”
“My mother was incensed that, amongst all the perfect limyerite available at the auction, he chose this one. A crystal with an inherent flaw.” She smiled.
“But my father was adamant this was the most beautiful of all. Several traders proposed a bargain, but he declined them. It is, in a way, precious to him. He was certain that one day, a buyer who understands its true beauty, will come.”
He crouched beside the case, studying the crystal anew. His thoughts moved faster now, folding inward. Two weeks. The date loomed in his mind like a fire drawing closer.
“Is it for sale now?” he asked, rising again.
Su Lian blinked. “You’d like to purchase it?”
Before he could answer, a man strolled into the shop.
His clothing appeared of X?en origin, but modified, as though he travelled a great deal and needed an outfit with many layers to suit the different weather he might encounter at any moment during his journey.
His black hair was cropped short but combed neatly.
His skin, though Alexander guessed was previously light and ivory-toned, was now burnished from long hours spent under unforgiving sun.
A Talharen man, through and through.
MeiMei ran toward him. “Bà! Come meet our guest!”
He studied Alexander. His bow was polite, though he never lowered his head quite enough to break eye contact. Alexander saw his mind churning, assessing, wondering if he posed a danger.
A cautious man. One who’d perhaps seen how trust and gullibility could put his family in danger during travels.
Su Lian smiled and stood beside the man. “This is my husband, Xian Jun.” To him, she said, “Our honoured guest, Sir Alexander, is interested in purchasing the limyerite crystal.”
Alexander didn’t miss the look the couple exchanged.
Xian Jun lifted his brow. “A significant purchase. My late father-in-law cherished this crystal. My wife and her brother would want to know where it will go, and what it will be used for.”