Legend of the Nameless One Boxset

by Angela J. Ford

  The sun was high in the sky when Zilpha finished, and she quickly stacked up four baskets and tied them to her back. It wasn’t enough, and she much preferred to have a wagon, but she had to walk. Although they were light, it was difficult to carry so many baskets such a long way.

  She set off down the road, and just as her hut disappeared from sight, she remembered she had nothing to trade, aside from baskets. If the fate held with her, she could sell some before finding the shop of the colorful one. Then she’d have enough money to trade.

  Rich golden and red hues of fall dotted the countryside combined with the deep smell of vegetables and meats roasting in the neighboring huts. Zilpha lived on a row of huts, each a measured distance from the other. She wondered if Lord Arden owned all the huts and if the peasants had trouble paying their debts. She picked up the pace, the thin soles of her shoes rubbing against her calloused feet. She needed new shoes but had to wait until the debt was paid off. Her thoughts flickered to Bram, and a deep unhappiness slammed into her gut. He was off working the fields. His hollow words about helping her had turned out to be naught after yesterday. She blinked back tears, frustrated at her weakness and her jealousy of Mathilda. Why did some people have all the luck in life while she was burdened with heavy blows? Although when she considered her past, she could not help but blame herself. She’d been the one who took out the loan and fell to Nodin’s charms.

  The city rustled with life just as it always did as she walked through it, marveling at the sights and smells that never ceased. A part of her wanted to move from her hut in the countryside in to the city, where everything she could dream of lay at her fingertips. She passed the dressmaker and looked wistfully at the cloth in the window. Her dress would be threadbare soon, and with the ruin of the other one she needed something fancy and fine to wear.

  She made her way past the marketplace to the wide cobblestone road leading to the port. She saw the winking Jaded Sea before she reached it, and her heart beat in anticipation as white sails appeared. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of—to have a shop at the edge where she could look upon the vast majesty of the Jaded Sea and watch the ships sail in and out of the harbor.

  A thudding desire scattered through her as she dared to let herself dream of a life where she would run her own shop and sell baskets, clothes, and precious stones, better than the quaint jewelry the rich ladies wore. She’d even help out the peasants so no one would know the fear of being in debt and judged by those over her. She would be a beacon for others and no longer fall prey to schemes. But right now, she had to do what she needed to survive, and Lord Nodin’s offer hung in the air like a spiderweb, unseen yet waiting to entrap her.

  Salt stung her nose when she reached the harbor, and in the distance, she heard the cry of seagulls, the shouts of the ship-hands working, and the bartering of people paying for passage aboard those great ships. It was more crowded than she’d anticipated, and the colors gave her pause. She stood near the end of the cobblestone street where it ran into a dirt road and finally to planked gangways made of wood, shifting in the craggy rock and grass. A whisper of adventure hung in the air like an intangible thought unable to be fully grasped.

  Zilpha stuck her tongue in her cheek as she watched the people run to and fro, the males stripped to their waists, their backs shiny with sweat. The glazed hue of lust zipped through her, and she shivered as the sea winds whisked overhead. But it wasn’t from cold, only the knowledge she was alone in the world while everyone else moved on with their lives, heedless of her dissatisfaction.

  “Zilpha?”

  She jumped and turned at the question in the male’s voice. Her thoughts flew back to Lord Nodin’s harsh tones the evening before, and a fiery flush came over her face. But it wasn’t Lord Nodin, only Irik the fisher. He jogged up to her, a question in his eyes before a good-natured smile spread across his broad face. “I’m surprised to see you here. It isn’t market day.”

  His body reeked of the pungent smell of fish, water, and sweat. He carried a basket full of fish on his back and only wore a loose pair of pants that were rolled to his knees. His bare chest glistened in the light, and Zilpha averted her eyes, suddenly embarrassed. Whether it was for him or for herself, she did not know. “I have business here.”

  “Ah.” Irik eyed her baskets, and a puzzled look came over his broad face. Lifting an elbow, he wiped sweat off his forehead. “May I escort you there?”

  Zilpha’s face turned redder still, and she wished the baskets were tucked away. There didn’t seem to be a place to set up shop out by the docks. A sigh passed from her lips, and her shoulders slumped. “You think me a fool for being out here.”

  “Nay,” Irik shook his head. “It can be rough out here for a lady, and I only thought, seeing as you appear to be alone, I could escort you as far as you’d let me. I understand it's none of my business…”

  “But you’re busy with the fish.” Zilpha pointed to his basket, his glistening chest making her feel odd inside.

  Irik gave a rough laugh to dispel some of the awkwardness in the air, and Zilpha frowned, realizing she must have insulted him. He took a step back. “I’m sorry I overstepped,” he mumbled, his gaze shifting down.

  Zilpha felt something like a burden roll away and she relaxed, reaching out a hand to touch Irik’s wrist and encourage him. A jolt zinged through her at the contact with him. “I’m sorry, I’m out of sorts today and you could be of help. Do you know where the colorful one sells herbs?”

  Irik’s head snapped up, and his mouth rolled up in a lopsided grin while his eyes narrowed with wariness. “The colorful one? I think I know what you mean.” He paused, staring at her like she was a clam that needed to be pried open in order to find the treasure inside. “Zilpha. Why her? I know she helps with ailments and maladies, but some say she’s just as mad as Old Edna.”

  Fear stirred in Zilpha’s heart like the frantic wings of a bird caught in a trap. Her hackles rising, she lashed out. “You said it was none of your business what I do. Are you going to help me or not?”

  His face fell and something like an invisible wall came up between them. He turned, giving her another whiff of fish and salt. He pointed down the dirt road in the tavern's direction. “It’s that way, just two doors down from the tavern. You’ll see the sign when you reach it. Some claim she keeps it locked to keep out the drunks.”

  “Irik,” she spoke his name gently, apologizing with her tone. “I thank you. I hope we meet again under different circumstances.”

  He took another step back, withdrawing from her as his brows lowered. “Zilpha, if you’re in trouble I can help.”

  She froze, daring herself to stare into his eyes. They were wide and caring with no trace of malice. Something about the way he stood with his muscles bulging and sweat dripping down his neck made her want to come clean. The words tingled on the edge of her tongue, desperate to confide in someone who could help her find her way. A ringing sounded in her ears as the decision rose before her. If she took a step toward him, her weakness would show and like the waves of the Jaded Sea, a choice would come crashing down, spiraling out of control before she could stop it.

  Her voice came out a rough whisper. “You can’t help me.” Dropping her gaze, she turned and fled before she regretted her decision.

  The baskets weighed heavily on her back, and all thoughts of selling them evaporated. She hoped the colorful one would be willing to trade. The parchment in her pocket felt important, and a desperation rose in Zilpha even as the evening shadows grew, announcing the sunset.

  She found the shop of the colorful one on the end of a street with a view of the harbor. Sun-bleached wood covered it, and someone had nailed a bouquet of dried herbs, upside down, on the door. Just as Irik had warned her, the shop was locked. Taking a deep breath to settle her jumbled nerves, she rapped on the door and waited.

  A muffled voice shouted from behind the door. “I’m closing for the day.”

  Desperation mounted in Z
ilpha, and she pounded on the door in response, her voice rising to a higher pitch and cracking as she responded. “Please. It won’t take long.”

  Light footsteps shuffled across the floor and then the door swung open with a long drawn-out creak, the wood heaving a sigh of relief at being used.

  The rich scent of herbs wafted across the door step, and Zilpha looked up into the odd eyes of the colorful one. Up close she appeared even more exotic, although a bright scarf tamed her wild hair. She towered almost a foot over Zilpha, and a question glinted behind her lemon-yellow eyes. Her heart-shaped face was angular and sharp, making her eyes the most interesting feature on her face. She was curvaceous and wore a dark blue shift that fell to her knees, grazing the tops of her black boots. The colorful one studied her, and Zilpha shuddered, feeling inadequate underneath the scrutiny. For a brief moment she hesitated, Mathilda’s words ringing in her mind. What if Citrine was in league with the wrong kind of spirits and would lead her down the path of destruction?

  15

  Seeking Wisdom

  Citrine eyed the small slight female who perched on her doorstep, questions gleaming in her hazel eyes. The female stood just over five feet tall with a willowy body. There was a thinness about her like she did not eat enough to fill out her body properly. Waves of shiny nut-brown hair fell almost to her waist, and she wore a faded dress. The faint scent of sweat came from her back, which was not surprising given the four baskets she carried.

  “Come in then.” Citrine jerked her chin toward the table. “Have a seat and I’ll make tea.”

  The female stepped inside, taking four woven baskets from her back and setting them on the floor.

  Citrine shut the door and turned to the kettle, quickly pouring two cups of tea and sprinkling herbs over them. Keeping her back to the female, she chewed her lower lip, inwardly scolding herself for her impulsive decision. Given the female’s appearance, she was young and poor, likely unable to offer coin in exchange. Citrine assumed the baskets were there to entice her, but she had everything she needed for her journey. Tor Lir’s words from earlier haunted her. She could do one last good deed before she forsook the city and ventured into the wild with her beasts on what seemed like a fool’s treasure hunt.

  Lifting the steaming mugs, she turned back around to see the female standing hesitatingly in the middle of the shop, toying with a piece of paper. “Can you read?”

  Citrine nodded to keep from portraying her disgust. It was shameful that mere peasants did not learn the art of reading that was reserved for the Lords and Ladies of the land. “Sit, drink the tea and then we shall discuss.”

  The female’s nose flared, betraying a hint of frustration before she spun on her heel and moved to the table. Citrine sat down across from her and inhaled the fragrance of herbs, relaxation penetrating every pore. She took a sip, and the warm liquid eased down her throat, warming her bones. “I am called Citrine, what is your name?”

  The female hesitated, her deft fingers curling over the tea cup. “Zilpha. I came to you for help. I’m in trouble and I need advice from someone who isn’t close to me.”

  Citrine relaxed her shoulders, well familiar with the conflicting thoughts trouble brought. “What kind of trouble?”

  Zilpha placed the parchment on the table and waited, her hand covering it. Lifting her head, she met Citrine’s eyes. Returning the gaze Citrine saw something behind Zilpha’s hazel eyes. There was sorrow, torment, and a spark of determination, something Citrine had felt herself.

  “I want to know if I can trust you first,” Zilpha all but whispered. “They say you have powers to help, and some claim you’re in league with the Creator while others say you aren’t. Where does your help come from?”

  Citrine glanced down at the parchment. “You have to choose to trust me. You came all this way to see me and persisted when I turned you away. To ask me if I am trustworthy is laughable.”

  Zilpha removed her hand from the parchment and nodded. “I trust you then. What does it say?”

  Citrine picked it up, reminded of what Tor Lir had spoken of when he came to visit her. Unfolding the paper, she scanned it, a frown furrowing her brow as she read the words that lay there.

  Zilpha the basket-weaver owes 15 silver coins to Lord Arden.

  To be paid by sunset three days after market day.

  Penalty for nonpayment includes loss of home, slavery, imprisonment, or punishment as determined by the city warden.

  Underneath, there were words written by a different hand.

  If you find the treasure for me, I will pay your debt in full.

  Puzzled, Citrine glanced up at Zilpha before rereading the parchment, mouthing the words as she read. “It’s about your debt. Lord Arden wants to be paid tomorrow by sunset.”

  Zilpha’s shoulders slumped, and her fingers tightened around the tea cup.

  “But there’s more,” Citrine went on, furious at herself for feeling sympathy for the poor female. It was likely her own fault and folly. Citrine should leave her to it. “It seems like someone intercepted this message, because a different handwriting falls below the amount. ‘If you find the treasure, your debt will be paid in full.’ I think you need to tell me what’s going on.”

  Zilpha’s face turned bright red, and her eyes fell to the tea. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the cup and chugged down the drink like someone dying of thirst. The steam blew into her face, and when she finished, her eyes glazed over. She opened her mouth and blurted out, “To fix this I have to find the treasure. The trouble is, I don’t know what happened to it.”

  Citrine’s heartbeat picked up. She leaned forward, an odd tingling creeping up her face at the thought of treasure. No wonder she wanted to open the door to Zilpha—she was a treasure hunter. Banishing words of warning from mad Old Edna, Citrine flattened the parchment with her fingers and took a deep breath. “Tell me about the treasure.”

  Zilpha frowned and gave herself a shake. Her eyes roved around the small shop and then she spoke, as if willing herself to tell the truth. “When I first came to the city, there was a male called Nodin. He…I…we helped each other. He had a treasure he kept locked in a box. After a time, he grew bored with life and left, leaving the treasure with me. I assumed once he was gone the treasure was mine. So, I took the key and unlocked it, but the treasure wasn’t what I expected. It was terrifying and so I threw it away.”

  Zilpha paused, her face flushing. Citrine watched her fingers go to caress the shell necklace she wore. The way Zilpha fidgeted with it told Citrine it was important. “What’s in the shell?” she prompted, already knowing the answer. “The key?”

  Zilpha jerked, dropping her fingers while her eyes went wide. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Citrine shrugged. People were predictable, and that had nothing to do with her gifts. “You threw away the box but kept the key?”

  Zilpha bit her lip. “I didn’t dream he’d return and want the treasure back. But he did. And he does. I need to find out where the treasure is. If I can see it, I can find it. Can you help me? That’s what you do? Bring back memories? Create visions? You can help me find it?”

  Zilpha moved forward as she spoke, her slender hands clasped together as an eagerness came over her face. Citrine felt she was on the cusp of something, the turning point. What she chose would mark all of her future decisions. She thought of the words Tor Lir had relayed to her the day before and Old Edna’s warning. She squared her shoulders, bringing a sternness to her voice, although her body rolled in uncanny desire. Chaos. Mischief. Treasure. She wanted it all. Regardless of what Zilpha said, she’d help her. “Tell me, what does this treasure look like?”

  Zilpha blinked at the unexpected question. Glancing down at the parchment she spoke, her voice low as if someone would hear them. “It lay in the box on its side, and it looked like a horse, but when I lifted it out, I saw it had wings, clear as crystal. When I touched it, it made me feel frightened and yet…there’s something dark within it.”

&n
bsp; Citrine dropped her hands into her lap, squeezing her legs together to keep the excitement from escaping. “Fine. I’ll help you. But pray tell, what do you have to trade?”

  16

  Hide and Seek

  Trade. That word. Zilpha turned to glare at the baskets by the door. Suddenly they seemed like a poor trade for the vision to see where the treasure lay. Her shoulders sagged as the sudden glimmer of hope faded. Twisting her hands in her lap, she responded with misery. “I’m sorry. My coins were stolen, and I have nothing but baskets. Do you need a basket?”

  She dared a glance up at Citrine, who sniffed, insulted by the meager suggestion. Zilpha blinked hard as tears pricked behind her eyes. It was stupid to come to the shop and think she could gain free advice. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Pushing back the chair, she rose, unable to meet Citrine’s eyes. “I know, I don’t have much. I apologize for wasting your time. I’ll go now.”

  But it all had come so clearly, and she needed to seek the treasure. What other options did she have? Old Edna could not provide the same information. Unless she took a gift to the Tree of Wisdom. If she gathered herbs near the farmlands, tomorrow she could make the hike to the tree and ask for wisdom from the Creator. It was far-fetched, but all she had left.

  “You don't have much of a choice, do you?” Citrine stood, holding up the parchment. “Here it says if you don’t pay your debt, your home could be taken or you could be imprisoned or enslaved. Not very nice options. If you want to seek the treasure, I can help you. In exchange, let me seek with you.”

  Confusion made Zilpha spin, eyeing the tall Tider again. “But what’s in it for you? What do you gain?”

  “I want to know the treasure is real and hold it before you turn it over for payment against your debt,” Citrine said.