30. Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Lux’s headache was a furious thing that Riselda had thankfully anticipated. Having awoken after too little sleep, sweating and shaking with a lingering sense of nightmares, Lux had found the blue liquid stoppered alongside a note on the kitchen table.
A tonic for your head, should you need it.
No mention of where she was or when she would return. It had suited Lux just fine. Downing the liquid, her pulsing head finally released her captive body.
And now, she found herself in a deserted Dark Market.
The air had finally grown warmer. High summer approached, and the Festival of Light along with it. It was absurdly close to the mayor’s birthday, but at least everyone was invited to attend this particular celebration.
Lux had always avoided the entire affair when she could. Especially as it was the busiest time of year for her. The town line blurred for one day and one night, and when the people of Ghadra mingled as one, with entirely too much to drink, it often led to more than a body or two carried through her door. Though that might be lessened somewhat if Riselda utilized her gift.
Her aunt would likely be their only hope; at the last festival, Lux had revived their best physician.
A muffled blanket of fear and dread covered the square, but as she had suspected, the crooked, old crone continued to hack and wheeze behind her booth, the sole vendor remaining within the entire market. Lux walked toward her, a faint smell of rotted jasmine in the air and little else.
Dark, knotted fingers were busy creating yet another gnarled necklace. “You had better buy something today, girl. I haven’t had any business in days.”
Lux paused before the booth, eyeing the stacks of claws and talons. It appeared the old woman had added to her collection in hopes of drumming up more customers. An array of feathers, frogs’ eyes and snake skins were pushed ahead of the display of homemade jewelry. A stack of red apples drenched in green poison consumed the remaining space.
Lux didn’t waste her breath in telling her that no soul worthy of living would be tricked by such fruit. The crone certainly wouldn’t listen.
“I’m in need of a new knife. Nothing else.” She glanced around the quiet square. “Everyone die off from the plague then?”
A string of hacking . “That or hiding like the cowards they are. Just as likely to die tucked in your bed than out here, braving the world.”
Lux snorted, already turning. “Nice apples.”
“Wait! A knife you say? I have just the thing, Necromancer.” With quicker movements than Lux thought her capable of, the crone whipped a shockingly long, serpentine blade from her side. The handle was comprised of black, polished wood, and Lux’s eyes widened at the weight of it as it was pressed into her palm.
“A dagger. Made from the wood of those devouring trees.” The old woman raised untamed eyebrows.
“That’s not possible.” The trees never died. Their branches never fell. And you clearly couldn’t touch their surface lest you be swallowed whole.
“Not for you, it isn’t. Not for me, either. But for someone, a very long time ago, it was.” The ominous ring to her voice could have swayed Lux to believing if it weren’t for those conspiratorial eyebrows waggling at her.
Lux snorted. “If you say so.” She adjusted it in her hand. It did fit rather nicely.
“If you don’t believe me, so be it. Either way, it’s a quality blade. You can’t argue that. And you won’t find better. Those with weapons are sure to be hoarding them now.”
“Why?”
“Why! Child, the Shield is imprisoning anyone who looks the wrong way at the moon. And no one who enters that prison comes out. I don’t know why those pebble-brained white-coats bother. The mayor is already purging us well enough.”
“Purging?” Lux’s face remained impassive, but her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Why else hasn’t it crossed to the rich? No invisible line keeps a plague at bay. Mark my words, that mayor is behind this as sure as I can make the loveliest raccoon claw necklace.” To further prove her point, the completed piece of jewelry dangled from her arthritic fingers, a full, dried raccoon paw swinging at its center.
“Indeed.” Lux batted it away as it crept closer to her head.
“Some poison cooked up by those slimy potion-masters he calls his personal physicians, no doubt. Though, I certainly wouldn’t turn down one of those anti-aging creams he’s using.” She ran her hand over matted, grey hair, her smile wistful. Then she laughed again, a harsh, barking sound that rattled her chest.
Lux frowned. “How do you know if he’s aged well or not?” The woman had been blind for as long as Lux could recall.
“Just because my eyes are broken doesn’t mean my ears are!” The crone tossed the necklace in irritation, smothering the paw’s fur in poison as it came to rest on the pile of apples. “People are always whispering on how he’s hardly aged since they were children themselves. I’ll bet he drinks some nasty concoction every morning, noon and bedtime. Too late for me, that. I’d need to start over, peel a fresh face off a youngster. Now, cough up some gold for that blade.”
A hand waved beneath Lux’s nose, expectant. She fished within her purse. It was growing light, what with the majority of deaths lately being poor and plague-ridden. Perhaps the approaching festival wasn’t all that terrible after all.
“How much?”
“Five goldquins.”
“Never!” She charged the same for a revival. It wasn’t possible for a dagger to be worth so much.
“It’s not a simple blade, girl. If you’re going to cross that bridge again, you’re going to need it.”
Lux bit her cheek, shaking her head. What other gossip had this woman turned sensitive ears to? More likely she was guessing, utilizing a well-honed skill in marketing her wares. Either way, the vendor was right. She did need it, and she wasn’t about to begin knocking on doors to inquire about purchasing one. She certainly wouldn’t be asking Riselda to lend hers.
“This is outrageous.” Lux dumped the coins into her weathered palm. The purse hung, sad and limp, at her side.
“You won’t regret it, child. Take good care of it.”
Lux huffed, tucking it through her corset where it winked its curved edges across the empty market. “I can’t afford not to.”
The crone smiled, and Lux walked away, only glancing back once to witness the biggest, most foul-smelling, marsh-grass cigar whipped forth and placed between the old woman’s lips.
As she puffed away happily, Lux pitied the tree that would inevitably swallow her down.