13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Viola
M id-afternoon is the best time for the market. After the stag was butchered by two men who had never butchered anything in their lives, I had to clean up their mess and transform the poor creature from a hack job to a stack of clean, equal-sized slabs of meat despite my raging bloodlust. We salted the meat to help preserve it and then headed out to gather our supplies.
Mace decided to hang back in the house for fear of being recognized and causing a stir.
I think he just doesn't want to be around me.
As I follow the well-worn path to the town square in silence, it sinks in that I am about to get asked a load of questions from people I've known my whole life.
Where is Max?
What is Ytopie like?
How are your parents?
As if sensing my discomfort, Tulip grabs the hand that is not carrying our wares in a basket and squeezes. "We're here for you."
I've never entered the market with an entourage before. It was more my style to slink in, get what I needed, and sneak out. This time, we're bound to make a splash with our meat. We need a lot of supplies this time, which means a lot of conversations at every booth.
For the most part, people in Dalery keep their heads down and get along with their business. Now that the Race is over, people are back to their normal jobs. Fishing, farming, and gathering are the trades of most of our people. While we see some people, it's like they don't see us, and I wedge myself in the middle of the group as we're walking to minimize the questions. But when we get to the market, I have to break out of the confines of my companions.
"Viola Mistflow?" I wince, recognizing the voice of Yita, the village healer. "You won the Race. What in the Bloomtide are you doing here?"
"They don't hold me hostage there, and I missed my home."
She scoffs, shaking her head. "We assumed they would since no one else ever came back! If you could leave, why wouldn't your parents come and see you?"
The words are a knife to the spine that I don't know how to remove. With a few steadying breaths, I wear a tight smile. "Unsure. But I'm here, and now that I have my … winnings … I want to see all of Krillium." We had decided it was not in our best interest to reveal the real reason we were traveling yet—there was no need to cause a stir. "Would you be willing to trade us all your wares in exchange for a parcel of fresh stag?"
Yita's jaw drops, and she reaches out for the parcel. When I place it in her hand, she softly unties the string wrapped around it as if it would explode. "Viola, this is so much. It is not worth my salves and tinctures." She moves to hand it back.
I push the parcel back to her, smiling. "It is more than worth it. Consider it payment for all the education you gave me." She nods, not willing to let her pride get in the way of a windfall of meat, and begins loading up her wares into a burlap bag. Once they're packaged, she hands them to me, and Tulip intercepts, throwing them over her shoulder.
"Travel safe, Viola. Tell your parents I said hello."
The words squeeze my chest, but I have to push through.
Our next stop is the clothier, but I'm not expecting much luck. To my surprise, she has much more than I expected. "Viola! Look at you, Miss Race winner! Where's Max?" The clothier, I never knew her name, had once had a fling with Max, so I'm not surprised she's asking after her.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, but she didn't make it. She passed during the Race." My voice breaks, and Plume moves behind me to offer her calm and quiet presence.
The clothier nods, face tight. "May her sacrifice be honored by the Gods," she murmurs, busying herself with folding the clothing on her table.
Clearing my throat, I give her a sheepish look. "I would like to buy some of your wares. I need four sets of men's clothing, two tall and two stocky." Morrow shoots me a look, and I shrug. "What? You are. And then two sets of clothing each for us three." I gesture between myself, Tulip, and Plume.
She drops the shirt in her hand. "I 'm sorry, you need ten sets of clothing?"
"We do. Do you have enough? We can pay, of course." I hold up two parcels of meat. We started with ten parcels, with another five stored at the house for passage on a ship. I pray it will be enough.
The clothier's eyes widen, and she reaches for the meat. "This is fresh meat? Wherever did you get this?"
I just shrug. "Things are different for me now. I want to make sure I take care of my home."
"Forgive me for saying, but you didn't care much for us when you lived here," she scoffs.
That was a blow, but a fair one. "Consider it making up for lost time. When can the clothing be ready?" She waves her hand towards me, beckoning me forward.
"Let me see that bag, girl," she says to Tulip.
"She's a woman." Morrow interrupts.
I roll my eyes, but Tulip looks at Morrow with a big, cheesy grin. His cheeks deepen in color, and she brushes some hair behind her ear before turning back to the clothing vendor.
Once the clothier has the bag in hand, she stuffs it full of the clothing requested. "You're lucky business has been slow for a bit, so I have a nice stockpile. I threw in some chest wraps, socks, and underwear. You didn't mention them, but it seems fair for the trade. I'm not sure if I've ever seen this much meat at once."
"We thank you very much for your kindness," Plume says in her ethereal voice. The clothier flushes deeply at the beautiful fae as we walk away, but Plume doesn't notice the attention.
After stopping at the cobbler for five pairs of boots, which cost us another two parcels, we were down to just five parcels for weaponry.
"Do you think this will be enough to get what we need?" Morrow asks, peering into the basket.
Truthfully, I'm not sure. We have been lucky so far today that no one has questioned our group, but the weapons dealer, Izrath, is much tougher than the others, and he's bound to look sideways at the motley crew I've brought with me.
We approach his table, Plume and Morrow hanging back while Tulip and I rifle through the wares. Izrath looks up from his seat, and when we lock eyes, it's like he's seen a ghost. "Viola fucking Mistflow." He rises from his chair and moves around the table, crowding my space but not touching me. "Didn't you win the Race? What are you even doing here?" I keep my eyes on the weapons in front of me, his familiar scent invading my nose. "Never thought I'd see you again, love." At his words, I wince, straightening my back to make eye contact with him.
Tulip looks at me and mouths, "Love?" and I give a quiet grunt and turn my back to her fully.
Izrath is someone who has warmed my bed many times, and it was never anything other than acceptable. But he was kind and would give me discounts on weapons, so it felt like a worthy trade. I am glad I don't have to consider that this time. "I did win. So did Tulip here. Ytopie doesn't hold us hostage, and we missed the Lowlands. So we're here. And we'd like to get some weapons if you'd be willing to trade with us."
He licks his lips lasciviously, moving closer to me and attempting to snake his arm around my hips. "I could handle one of our trades."
I push the basket filled with meat in front of him, hoping that the reference goes over the heads of those with me. "Not one of our old trades. I've got five packages of stag meat here for you. Can we deal?"
He grumbles, understanding my message, and steps back. "What's her deal?" he says, jerking his head towards Tulip, who shrinks back.
"She's my wife, thank you," Morrow growls while stepping up to Tulip and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. It would appear that he caught the meaning behind Izrath's words. "Isn't that right, dear?"
She stammers, her face flushed and red, but she doesn't dare to contradict Morrow right now. "Yes, my love."
Plume takes a further step back, anticipating being the next target of Izrath's affections. "Leave me out of this, please!"
With a grumble, Izrath takes the basket and flips through the packages. "All of this for me?"
"If you can outfit us with what we need, then yes." He nods sharply, all business now, and stores the basket on the chair behind him. He then reaches under the table to pull out a rolled-up piece of leather and stretches it out on top of the weapons on the table.
"This is the good stuff. I know how much you like your blades. All forged in Colris."
My fingers drift over the exquisite knives. Mine are fine, but I would love to replace them if I could. Still, my companions need them more than I do at this point. "Who will use daggers?" I ask, turning to the three with me.
"Our friend at home would," Morrow says, careful not to use Mace's name. I nod and, after examining the blades on offer, choose two for him.
"Anyone else?" Tulip and Plume both raise their hands, and I grab them each one blade. I would prefer they use ranged weapons, but they should have something if the fight comes close, too. I turn to Morrow. "You want a bow?"
He grins widely. "How'd you know?"
"Call it a lucky guess. Sword, too?" He shakes his head and points at an axe leaning up against the leg of the table. "Is the axe for sale?" I asked Izrath. He answers by grabbing it and dumping it unceremoniously into Morrow's hands. I pick out a blowgun and a handful of darts for Plume and a javelin for Tulip. "How much for all of this?"
Izrath looks over everything we have so far and sucks his teeth. "Four parcels. You want to spend the fifth?"
My heart soars, and I go back to the roll of blades and pick out a new one for myself and a whip to replace the one I'd left in Ytopie. As I turn to tell Izrath we're all done, my eyes land on a heavily weighted club with a spiked tip. "Is that a mace?" I ask softly. Izrath nods and hoists it up to me. I take it in my hands and buckle slightly under the unexpected heft of it. "Can I get this, the knife, and the whip for the final package?"
He sucks his teeth as if he will deny me, but I know this trade is fair and worthy. It will gain me no favor telling him how to run his business, so instead, I must wait as if he will deny me this. After a long moment, he sighs. "I suppose it's a fair trade. I'll dry this, and it'll keep me fed for months." I move to take a step back, and he grabs me by the forearm. It's not aggressive, just familiar, the touch of someone who knows my body even if I blocked him from my heart.
"Pleasure doing business with you again, Mistflow. Will I see you again?" Izrath's voice is hopeful, and I almost feel bad that our time together meant more to him than it did to me.
Shrugging, I gather all I can in my arms, and my friends do the same. "Maybe? I'm not sure. If you do, things are either really good or really bad, Izrath."
"Well then, I guess I'll pray not to see you at all."