by R C Gray
The heart of Mivara was made of long cobbled streets that crossed between bright, beautifully painted shops that bustled with activity as merchant wagons delivered goods and performers drew crowds in the square. The southern district of the city was full of taverns, inns, theatres, and entertainment halls; while the western portion held many of the homes in the area—although living spaces, both large and small, were scattered throughout every section of the city.
A broad smile crossed Renna’s face as she shook Skara awake and looked over at Faine. “I can’t believe we finally made it. It feels so nice to see something besides rain and trees.”
Sitting up from the back of the wagon, Skara looked out between Renna and Braig’s shoulders, his eyes going wide as he looked towards the blue water flecked with burgundy kelp.
Wheeling his horse around to face the wagon, Faine glanced over at Skara. “So, what do you think? A big change from living in the woods all those years.”
Skara sat up with his hands tight on the back of the wooden bench in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked out over the bustling city filled with colorful buildings of teal, green, blue, yellow, and red that stretched up to the shoreline. Closing his eyes, he could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing on the shore and the sound of laughter and music drifting up from the many inns and theatres. He thought about how dark Sonosa and Banrielle seemed to compared to the lively buildings and atmosphere here, but he also knew that just because it was bright on the outside, it didn’t mean that it didn’t have a dark side. And in his experience, the more people there were, the better the chances of it finding him.
Trying not to let his thoughts get the best of him, Skara looked over at Faine, his eyes still wide. “There’re so many colors here. So many people.”
“There are. But we’ll only be here for several days at most, so we better make the best of it. And if you think it looks interesting from here, just wait ‘til we get closer,” Faine said, clicking his tongue as he gently nudged the horse forward.
Crossing through the gate, Faine stopped his horse at one of the crossroads. “It looks like there are quite a few inns around here. Anything catching your eye?”
“Something with soft beds and hard drinks,” Braig said as he looked up and down the streets.
Renna gave the reins a light snap, keeping the horses at a steady pace. “Let’s move a bit deeper into the city. We’ll be closer to the theatres there.”
Keeping his horse alongside the wagon, Faine looked up and down the lines of buildings as they made their way deeper into the city. Merchant stalls lined the side streets as vendors called out or carried their goods to the side of the wagon, holding them up for Braig and Renna to see.
“Move away from the cart!” Braig said, waving his hands towards the merchants, trying to shoo them away. “Unless you sell ale or weapons, you’ll not get any coin of mine.”
Skara leaned back into the cart and crossed his arms over his chest as groups of people passed hurriedly beside the wagon in every direction. Keeping his head low, he peered through the gaps in the sides of the cart and watched the people rush by, busy with their daily lives.
“There’s one,” Faine said, pointing his finger. “The Maiden’s Locket.”
Pulling the horses and wagon into the covered stable, Faine handed the reins to the stable boy and pulled out a silver coin. “Can you give the horses some food and water, and a good brushing?” The boy eyed the coin and looked up at Faine. “I can, indeed, sir.”
Turning to walk away, Faine looked back and pulled out another silver coin, holding it between his fingers for the boy to see. “You don’t know of anyone looking to buy any goods or horses, do you?”
“I do, sir. There’s a merchant a few streets down that trades in horses.”
Braig grabbed his pack off the wagon and set it down near the back wheel. “Then I guess that’s where I’m headed. Who am I looking for?”
“Her name is Ferhani, sir. She has black hair and a small tattoo over her left eye.”
Faine flipped the coin to the boy and looked over at Braig and raised his eyebrow. “I can go talk to her if you’d rather get us a few rooms.”
“I was a merchant before all this. I think I can handle selling some supplies and horses. Besides, I need to stretch my legs. All that time in the wagon made me feel cramped.”
Faine raised his hands and smiled. “I bet. Not much room up there...tight on the legs,” he said, gesturing down. “But that’s good with me. I’ll get us some rooms.”
“Aye, my legs might be shorter than yours, but they’re still long enough to kick your ass!” Braig said, mumbling something about pointed ears under his breath as he turned away and stepped out into the busy streets to find Ferhani.
Grabbing their gear off the cart, Faine smiled to himself as he walked with Skara towards the inn.
“You coming, Ren?” Faine said, turning back to watch Renna dig through her supplies.
“I’ll be there soon. I need to grab some of my books before Braig sells them all.”
“Hmm. Good idea.” Faine walked back over to the cart and pulled the lid off one of the crates and shoved several bottles of black rum into his bag. Motioning to Skara, he held out another bottle as he walked. “Better to have more than not enough.”
“You can keep it,” Skara said, following behind Faine into the inn.
The main room was broad, with several tables in the center and a small stage in the back corner. A bar ran along one wall, and two sets of stairs, one on each side of the room, led to the second floor. Large oval windows stood open, letting in the cool breeze that fluttered several tapestries hanging on the wall, each depicting stories of life on the ocean.
One showed a ship on bright blue water being pulled under by massive tentacles wrapped around its hull. In another, mermaids rested on the rocks near the shoreline, looking out at the moons shining over the water as they combed the blonde hair that hung over their bare chests. Quickly turning his eyes away, Skara looked back to Faine as they walked up to the innkeeper.
“I need four rooms.”
The man looked down at Skara and scowled. “I ain’t got no room for trouble-makers here.”
Faine laughed as he leaned against the counter. “We’re hardly here to make trouble, good sir. We’re just here passing through on orders of the temple.”
“What d’you mean, orders of the temple?” the innkeeper said, eyeing Skara.
“You see, brother Mordhir and I are priests. We’re on our way to Aerith for a pilgrimage up Caidan’s Pass. There’s a temple at the top, and we mean to study there.”
The door to the inn swung open as Renna hurried inside, her bags slung over her shoulder and several books in her hands. The barkeep’s face turned into a frown as he looked over the orcish woman.
“Ahh, there you are sister Onthera. I was just telling this man about our pilgrimage to Caidan’s Pass. He seems rather interested. And as always, you have your holy books in hand. It’s hard to tear our sister away from her studies. Perhaps you would like to hear a short sermon? I’m sure sister Onthera would be more than happy to enlighten you.”
The barkeep quickly shook his head as he glanced over at Renna.
“Some other time then,” Faine said, smiling. “But, as I said before, we’re just passing through and only need a place to stay until we can catch a ship.” Pulling out two gold coins and a small red gem, Faine slid them over to the innkeeper. “I trust this will pay for our four rooms and meals for our stay.”
The man picked up the coins and looked over at Renna and Skara. “Priests or no, I don’t want no trouble while you’re here.”
Faine raised his hand and held it over his heart. “By the light of Falinxa, you’ll get no trouble from us. We’re just here to have a drink or two, see some acts, and enjoy a respite before setting sail.” Grabbing his bags, Faine took hold of the room keys and handed one to Skara and Renna.
“Wait. Who’s the fourth room for?”
Faine lightly sighed and turned back towards the innkeeper. “Our fourth companion is our guard. He’s a stout dwarf that was sent with us by the Temple of Divine Light to escort us to the top of the pass. Now I know what you must be thinking, hearing talk of a guard, but we mean no harm and want no trouble; these weapons we carry are purely for protection. For I fear,” Faine said as he glanced around the room and leaned in, “we don’t know how to use them.”
Smiling and leaning back from the bar, Faine nodded his head at the innkeeper. “May the light guide your path.”
Following Faine, Renna and Skara mumbled a blessing of the light under their breath and walked upstairs into their rooms.
WEAVING BETWEEN GROUPS of people gathered around the shops and stalls, Braig scanned the streets for the woman with a tattoo over her left eye. Ahead of him, a short man with a thick, brown mustache that curled up at the corners had gathered a crowd in front of his stall. Standing on a sturdy wooden table, his bright red shirt flashed in the sun as he pointed into the crowd.
“You sir, what is that ails you?” the merchant said as he stepped over several of the bottles laid out across his table.
The man looked around at the men and women next to him to see if he was the one the merchant had spoken to. “It’s my shoulder. It’s been giving me fits, and I can’t lift a thing anymore.”
The merchant swung his hand and pointed his finger at a woman near the back of the crowd. “And you?”
The crowd of people turned around to look at a thin, olive-skinned woman with long black hair pulled into a tight bun. Pulling the frayed green shawl over her shoulder, she stood, using a set of crutches to help her keep her balance. “It’s me leg, sir. I fell off the mast on me ship and broke it. I ain’t been able to set foot on a boat again,” the woman said, smoothing out her white top and long brown skirt.
The merchant nodded his head and motioned for the woman to come to the front of the crowd. As she turned and hobbled her way to the front, Braig could see part of a small tattoo over the woman’s left eye that had been partially hidden by a loose-fitting headwrap tied around her forehead.
Stepping closer to get a better look, Braig climbed onto a nearby crate and watched the woman make her way to the front of the crowd. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the building, a knowing smile crossing his face.
As the woman stood in front of the crowd, the merchant put his hand on her shoulder and gestured out towards the onlookers. “If you don’t mind, could you tell us how long it’s been since you had your dreadful fall?”
“Nearly seven months now,” the woman said, steadying herself with her crutches.
“And what if I told you that I could fix your broken leg and that you could be back out on the waters as quick as you please?”
Looking towards the merchant, the woman’s eyes sparkled with moisture. “If only I could, sir. But I ain’t been able to afford a healer. I ‘ave to beg just to scrape by and put food in me belly.”
The merchant looked down at the woman, pity in his eyes. “Oh, precious girl. I know the healers can ask for a hefty price, and their visits can sometimes be few and far between. But alas, with my potions, you won’t have a need for a healer for breaks and sprains.” The merchant picked up a vial of red liquid and held it out in front of the crowd. “Made from the finest healing herbs. Drip several drops in your food or drink once and day feel yourself begin to heal. By the time you’ve finished the bottle, you’ll be as strong an Ineren horse, and just as healthy.”
“The does sound good, sir. But I’m afraid I can’t afford it,” the woman said, pulling out a single copper coin.
“My dear, I will make an exception for you today. To get you back on your feet and demonstrate the healing power of Wendall’s potions, I give you this.” Reaching into a pouch on his side, the merchant handed the woman a small vial and twirled the ends of his mustache as she turned it over in her hands.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll put it in me drink straight away. I don’t know how I can e’er repay your kindness,” the woman said as she looked over the crowd and back to the merchant.
“There’s no need for repayment. For as you said, this an act of kindness. What you hold in your hand is a concentrated solution of the potion you see on the table before you. It is my only strong potion in my current stock, and I have been saving it for a special day. I feel it is only right that you have it.” The merchant bowed and nodded as applause and murmurs broke out in the crowd. “Now, my dear, if you would be so kind as to open the bottle and drink the contents. Your leg will be healed, and you will be free to sail the seas once more.”
Pulling the cork off the top of the bottle, the woman held it to her nose and sniffed the contents. “It smells sweet.” Pressing the bottle to her lips, she tilted it backwards, draining the red liquid into her mouth. Setting the empty bottle back on the counter, the woman raised her eyebrows and looked up at the merchant standing on the table. “It feels warm. I can feel something happening.” Leaning her crutches against the stall, the woman took an unsteady step, gently putting weight on her injured leg.
“Please,” the merchant said, looking out over the crowd, “tell us how you feel.”
Putting her hands over her mouth, tears streamed down the woman’s face. “Gods, I can’t believe it. I can walk again.” Raising her hands over her head, she reached out and hugged the merchant and jumped up and down on her leg. “It’s healed. I don’t feel any pain. Thank you, sir. I’ll always be in your debt.”
The crowd broke out into cheers and applause as the woman jumped and spun in front of them. Her long brown skirt twirled as she danced, raising her hands in joy. Smiling one last time at the merchant, the woman wiped the tears from her eyes and strolled quickly down the street, cutting down an alley and out of sight.
Braig could hear the merchant telling the customers to form a line as he jumped off the crate and ambled down the street towards the alley. Walking past a small group of men playing dice against the wall, he could see the now crutch-free woman pulling off her skirt to reveal a tight-fitting pair of brown pants with several pockets sewn up the sides. As she reached down to tie the laces on her calf-high boots, he saw the hilts of the daggers that she kept tucked securely in each.
Keeping his hands in clear view, he sauntered through the alley towards the woman, stopping in his tracks as two large men stepped out from behind a nearby wall and blocked the way. Turning his head to look back, he saw that the men that had been playing dice were now on their feet and blocking any retreat they thought he might try to make.
Braig looked past the men and held up his empty hands. “I’m just here to talk. I was told that you might be in the market for some horses and goods.”
The woman dabbed her face with her tattered shawl and tossed it to the ground as she walked up behind the two men. “And who told you that?”
“The stable boy at The Maiden’s Locket mentioned your name and tattoo,” Braig said, pointing towards the cloth tied around the woman’s head.
Smirking, the woman pulled off the headband and shoved it into one of the many pockets on the sides of her pants. Pulling out a small metal pin from her hair, it fell in thick black waves over the soft, white shirt that clung tightly around her chest. “You have good eyes, dwarf, but they need to be looking up here,” the woman said, letting out a laugh as she watched Braig’s face redden slightly. Taking a leather cord off of her wrist, she tied her hair back into a ponytail, causing her shirt even to pull even tighter. “Now, what is it you’re trying to sell me?”
Standing up straighter, Braig crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his beard. “Well, I have several books, a few horses, rum, weapons, and some other supplies I picked up along the way. Unfortunately, I’m all out of red potions.”
The woman eyed the dwarf she shifted on her feet. “Liked the show, did you?”
“It was entertaining. You played your part right. But do those potions even work?”
“They do work, dwarf. Otherwise, I wouldn’t sell them. The act helps drum up business, and I give the merchant a small cut of the profits for selling them for me. I don’t have to waste a real potion for a demonstration, and people feel more comfortable buying from a generous person that helps the needy. Now, back to business. First off, what do I call you? Second, why are you looking to sell all the goods you’ve picked up on your way here?”
“You can call me Braig. And what is it I should call you?”
“Ferhani.”
Braig rolled the name over in his head. Ferhani. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. “To answer your second question, that’s what merchants do with goods they don’t need before they sail out of a port town.”
Ferhani looked up at the men standing behind Braig and motioned for them to go back to their game. “You’re a merchant?”
“Used to be. Still sell things from time to time. So,” Braig said, motioning down the alley, “are you interested, or do I need to go somewhere else?”
Ferhani looked at the two men standing beside her and motioned for them to follow. “Let’s go take a look at what you’ve got. Right this way, Braig,” Ferhani said, extending her arm and gesturing for the dwarf to follow her behind the back of a nearby building.
Cutting down several smaller streets, Ferhani led them to the backside of the inn and walked around to the stables.
“Is this your cart,” she said, waving her hand towards the dusty wagon.
Braig rolled down the dirty canvas covering the supplies and dropped it on the ground beside the wagon, sending a cloud of dust into the air. “It is. Everything but my gear is for sale. That includes the cart and the horses.”
Moving around the wagon, Ferhani pried open several of the crates and dug through the supplies. “A few bottles of black rum, some old bread and fruit, some weapons, and,” pulling a dirt-crusted woolen sweater up from the back of the wagon, Ferhani made a disgusted face as she dropped the shirt and glanced at Braig, “some old pieces of clothing.”
“Don’t forget about the horses,” Braig said, pointing to three of the horses in the stalls nearby.
