Chapter 15 #2
How would she feel about it if she knew I only agreed because of the gift I’m hoping to get—the forgiveness I hope to earn from the gods?
Hopefully I’ll never have to find that out. May she move on into the peace of her godlen’s embrace before I make my appeal.
As I reach a busier stretch of middle-ward stores and eateries, I fall silent. I’m already drawing plenty of gazes with my fine gown—some merely curious, some tinged with hostility.
Most nobles don’t roam beyond the inner wards on foot.
My skin starts to crawl. The moment I spot something suitable in a store window, I duck inside and spend two of the fat coins Stavros gave me on a plain brown cloak that covers most of my dress.
The shop I’m most interested in is tucked away in a quiet row of cafes and stores not far from the old city wall.
The man slipping past its weathered wooden door as I approach isn’t dressed as finely as I am beneath my new cloak, but his fine linen tunic and embroidered over-vest tell me he’s doing well for himself.
I shouldn’t stick out badly—and the owner is less likely to treat my questions with suspicion if I appear to be one of the elite.
Like most herbal shops, the interior I step into is dim. A musky scent with an assortment of undertones from prickly to sweet fills the air, some of it drifting off the bundles of dried plants dangling along the edges of the main room.
Behind her counter in front of shelves packed with glass jars of various sizes, the shopkeeper squints at me through wire-framed glasses. Her ample frame is wrapped in a linen dress the same cornsilk yellow as her otherwise graying hair.
She draws herself straighter at the sight of me. “How can I help you today, good lady?”
I let out a breezy giggle, as if I don’t have much other than air in my head. “I think this is the place my friends recommended to me, but I might have gotten their directions mixed up. Have you had any customers from the college lately?”
The woman taps her lips, frowning in concentration. She looks as if she’s honestly considering the question, not coming up with a lie.
“No one who’s specifically said they are, but plenty of folks don’t say where they’re from, and I don’t like to pry.”
“Hmm. They’re all about my age, and they’d be wearing the latest style of clothing.
One of the fellows has dark brown hair about to here”—I gesture vaguely toward my ears—“and a rather dark complexion. On the tall side. The other is fairly short in stature and has curly blond hair. Or maybe you’ve seen a lady with a red streak in her brown hair? ”
The shopkeeper has knit her brow. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, my lady. I can’t say for sure that I’ve seen any of them.”
“Oh.” I push my lip into the slightest of pouts. “I must have gotten myself mixed up. It happens sometimes. I suppose, now that I’m here… Do you have any pipe fleece in stock?”
The furrows on the woman’s forehead deepen. “Pipe fleece? I haven’t heard anyone call the stuff that in ages. You mean jazfern?”
I giggle again. “Oh, is that what it’s called normally? We’re supposed to find a plant mentioned in an old book and bring a sample back to share in class. I thought that one sounded funny.”
The shopkeeper only looks puzzled now, but she steps back from the counter toward her back room. “I don’t have much of it. Not much use for it really that I know of, except it helps keep a few rare substances I deal in stable. Let me see if I can spare a bit.”
Interesting. Well, an herb that can stabilize potent substances seems like a decent candidate for stabilizing one’s magic.
We don’t know that no one from the college bought dartling eggshell here, Julita points out as the woman shuffles around in the back. Shouldn’t we focus on that instead of this pipe fleece stuff from a book that was over five hundred years old?
I nod in an attempt to tell her I haven’t forgotten her main quest. But my heart lifts when the woman returns with a small bundle of purplish dried leaves.
“This should be enough to show it,” she says. “If you need more, you’ll have to let me know ahead of time.”
I smile brightly. “I’ll do that. Thank you so much. Since you’ve been so helpful—one of my other friends heard of something called dartling egg she thought might be useful in her coursework. Do you have that here?”
A twitch of tension crosses the woman’s expression before her expression goes still. “What kind of coursework is she doing?”
I cock my head. “Something to do with medicine, I’d imagine. She’s training to become a medic.”
The shopkeeper relaxes just slightly. She obviously knows that the stuff can be put to unsavory uses, but it must have some legitimate functions as well. “It’s not requested often. I only get it by special order.”
I put on my best cajoling voice. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten one of those orders recently enough that I could jump the queue? She’d be so grateful.”
The woman shakes her head briskly. “Nothing here and nothing on the way. I’m sorry, my lady.”
All right, then our conspirators haven’t been getting regular stock here, if she can be believed. Not all that helpful, but it does let us cross one avenue of investigation off the list.
I thank the shopkeeper again profusely and pay for my jazfern. Popping it into one of my gown’s discreet pockets rather than my pouch, I’m just ambling out the door when I nearly bump into a lithe, unmistakably familiar figure passing by.
Casimir beams at me, his gorgeous face more stunning than ever with the sun shining down on it. “Oh, hello! What a coincidence bumping into one of my schoolmates here.”