by Taki Drake
Settling herself in the full seat across the back, Zhanna laid her pack out and opened the main compartment. One by one, she drew out each of the items that she planned on selling to examine them individually again. The young Witch knew that it was critical that she determine how much to ask for the things, but was at a loss even where to start. Holding one of them in her hands, an elaborately decorated orb, she stared with unfocused eyes through the grimy windows as the bus got underway. Thoughts spun in her mind like a tornado of possibilities, throwing random cautions and outcomes out like debris, without rhyme or causation.
Zhanna let her mind drift, riding the revolving movement in her brain, content to allow the turmoil to exist for a brief time. Eventually, she knew that it would settle into concrete ideas. To attempt to hurry her mind up at this point would be useless.
There were very few people on the rickety bus, so the hum of conversation was covered up by the roar of the engine. The old vehicle rattled its way along the road, belching vast clouds of dark smoke and smelling like ancient cleaning fluid. The mixture of odors and sounds, the rhythmic rattle and shake of the bus frame all came together to create a cocoon of the senses where Zhanna felt as if she was floating in an oily sea of music, smell, and motion. Zhanna could not help but think obsessively about what she would need to do when they arrived in the larger town.
On the surface, it seemed pretty straightforward. Make the mercenary connections, find a merchant, sell the items that she could get a good price for, arrange for transport, and set out on their mission. It worried her, trying to understand what she should ask for things. If anyone suspected that she had no idea of the value of the items, she would be cheated, and she knew it.
You couldn’t grow up in a village, bargaining in the market, without realizing what weakness looked like in a negotiation. It was too important for her to get the most that she could from the sale of the items, but also important that she not sell anything that would be critical to their success.
There were eight items that she thought would be advantageous to sell. Since settling in her seat, the young Witch had been holding the first, a flashy orb in her hands while she thought. Its smooth, cool surface was divided by areas of intricate carvings and sparkling stones set in intricate patterns. Zhanna found herself tracing them meditatively with her fingers.
What was it for? How valuable was it? Those questions ran through her mind again and again. Would they need it later on? The young woman was almost paralyzed with indecision, feeling her inexperience and relative youth, but know that neither Stefan or Mikhail could advise her on this topic.
Mercenaries were usually paid in currency, only rarely ending up with items of value. They might loot in certain situations, but it was seldom that they had to sell ancient artifacts or works of art. Zhanna just wished she knew which this item was.
Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice of one of the Hidden Folk. It was Saroc, the six-limbed furless creature that had been Noma’s back up when the small Fold had first met Zhanna and Dascha in the woods. Reaching out his upper arm to touch the orb with one extended fingertoe, the little male said in a soft voice that whispered like the sound of a breeze going through grass, “Pretty. Good stones, valuable. Gold and platinum, cavity inside, something else in there.”
Zhanna was stunned. She looked at the small being with the prehensile tail and spindly-looking fingertoes that looked like a cross between a salamander and a spider in amazement. In the back of her mind, she heard Dascha say, << Just because he looks like a newt doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent. It sounds like you have someone to help you figure out if something that’s pretty is valuable or not. Talk to him, you silly girl! >>
Zhanna found her voice and rushed into a compressed speech of statement and plea, “I am trying to understand how much to ask for these, and I know nothing about them. Can you help me understand their value and what to ask for them?”
Saroc made a chirping sound that Zhanna realized after a moment was his form of laughter. Settling down, the little Hidden Folk male answered, “Yes. Before our escape, I was one who determined the value of things. Someone that was consulted on such questions by others. I would be pleased to help you.”
“You said that there was a cavity in it. Do you know how to open it?”
“Yes, of course. If you would allow me?”
Zhanna immediately surrendered the orb to the little male, watching in wonder as he held the globe in all six of his limbs, his three-fingered limbs clasping it close to his torso. The fingertoes were used to examine and control the orb, ranging all over the object in a rapid fluttering of movement.
There was a very soft clicking sound, and the top of the orb separated, like petals on a flower opening. Nestled inside the interior was a beautiful gem cut in a multifaceted form and glowing with a light that Zhanna had never seen before.
“Ah, a Starfire gem! Definitely too valuable to sell in a small village or town. It could easily pay for multiple villages, if sold in the correct place and to the proper buyer. The gem should be held back. The orb itself you could sell, though. It is valuable but something that a merchant, if successful, could afford to buy.”
The young Witch was overwhelmed by a feeling of profound gratitude and relief. She would not have known what to do, and at least now she had someone who did understand valuation and could help assess what to sell. Over the next 30 minutes, Saroc and Zhanna looked at each of the items that she planned to sell. Between the two of them, they arrived at relative prices and negotiation strategies for the items selected for sale.
Dascha appeared to be fascinated by the discussion, staying close to her Witch and the little Hidden one during their conversation. Unconsciously, she had pressed forward to be able to see what they were examining. The Familiar was intent, peering at and into each item for traces of recognizable Magic. This put her near Saroc. Equally unconsciously, the small male used his flexible fingers to idly groom the black cat. Acting like a well-known friend, he straightened Dascha’s fur and massaged her skin. Dascha didn’t seem to be conscious of the care, but Zhanna was amused to see the little black cat arching her back at the pleasure of being tended.
At the end of the examination, Zhanna had six items that she and Saroc agreed should be sold in the town of Brasilov. The two others that she had planned on selling made both the young Witch and the Hidden Folk male uncomfortable to touch. Unless they desperately needed more money, they had agreed that those items would not be sold until further investigation could be made into their properties and characteristics. The Starfire gem was far too valuable to market in this area. Zhanna concealed it on her person and hope to keep it in reserve against an overpowering need.
Without fanfare or warning, the laboring vehicle screeched to a stop. Standing up, Stefan and Mikhail proceeded to gather their packs and looked to Zhanna to do the same with hers. Knowing that the Hidden Folk were well concealed, the young Witch got ready to leave. She had a plan now and felt much more confident.
<< Great. You’re all happy because an alien salamander has told you what to do. You have to be the strangest Witch a Familiar has ever had. >>
<< Thank you! You say the sweetest things to me. >>
<< Point for the Witch. >>
<< <> >>
Stefan and Mikhail had escorted Zhanna to a comfortable outdoor coffeehouse. Leaving her with their packs, the two mercenaries disappeared into the bustling crowd and went looking for their old acquaintances. Moving separately, the two men had told Zhanna that they would be back as soon as possible and to please stay at the café until they returned. She smiled and agreed, even when thinking that they were overprotective.
A friendly waitress had come by and taken Zhanna’s order, quickly returning with a small honey-drenched cake, a cup, and a sturdy, steaming teapot. The young Witch had sipped the warm beverage and watched people as they passed by along the roads and walkways. This was so much busier than where she grew up. Truth be told, sh
e was a bit intimidated by the mass of people and the large buildings. Many of the buildings were even three floors or more in height!
For a while, all she did was look at people and things that she might have read about but had never seen. Content to just sit, she was in a receptive mood, alert and accepting of the different sounds, smells, and sights that swirled around her.
Chapter 5 – Big Town Woes
Curled up unobtrusively next to her feet, Dascha also watched their surroundings. While her Witch was astounded by the number of people, Dascha was not swayed by the hustle and bustle. Instead, the Familiar was on guard, alert for any threat to her inexperienced Witch. Dascha’s vigilance was rewarded when she noticed that there were two people, a blond, older woman and a large, rough-looking man, that had been observing Zhanna for some time. After a short conversation between the two, the woman headed toward Zhanna but was notably traveling an indirect route.
What set Dascha’s senses alert was the fact that the woman moved around the outside of the square and only then approached Dascha and Zhanna. It was a significant detour, forcing the woman to take a longer walk, and positioning her in a less convenient direction than the one from which she had started. Immediately, Dascha tensed up. Her fur began to fluff, and her tail grew in size as she felt her adrenaline rise.
From within the flap of one of the packs, a tiny voice said, “Danger! Predator approaches. Species hunts in pairs.”
The Familiar didn’t want to tell them that she had already seen the approaching woman, but she made an encouraging chirp of approval that she hoped could be interpreted as thanks. A small chortle of sound told her that the Hidden one understood and appreciated her acknowledgment.
Not wanting to upset her Witch, Dascha waited for a few seconds to make sure that the blond woman was headed for the younger woman. Once convinced, the Familiar alerted Zhanna along their bond, saying, << You are being stalked. The blond woman who is approaching the table has been watching you and has decided to act. She and her companion have chosen some game to play with you. Careful, because she will be indirect and ill-intended. I am not sure what she wants from you, but I doubt that it will be pleasant. >>
<< This town is interesting, and the people make everything look very busy, but I still saw her coming. She reminds me of some of the nastier bullies that were in school when I was younger. She has the same narrow face and pursed mouth like she tasted something sour. >>
Dascha’s spurt of approval could be heard clearly. The Familiar could feel through their bond that Zhanna drew a little more self-assurance in her own abilities from Dascha’s proud, emotional response and hoped that nothing would happen to shake that increase in confidence.
Without appearing to notice, Zhanna was tracking the blond woman’s approach. Dascha also watched from her concealment against the floor as the older woman got closer.
Finally, the woman started to weave her way through the furniture of the sidewalk café. Coming very close to Zhanna’s table, the blond woman appeared to stumble, catching herself on the back of the chair opposite Zhanna and exclaiming in pain.
“Ouch! Chyort! That hurt!” Jerking her body upright as if she had just noticed Zhanna sitting there, the woman exclaimed, “Oh my goodness. I didn’t mean to disturb you. These chair legs can be so annoying.”
Instead of responding, Zhanna looked at the woman in inquiry. The lack of response seemed expected, so the older woman tried again. “Perhaps if you would’ve pushed the chair further under the table, it would not have of tripped me up.”
Once again, Zhanna just looked at the woman wordlessly. The same small voice that had warned Dascha of the blond woman’s approach sounded once more from inside the flap. “Dropped something in other pack. Is playing game. We will remove, please distract.”
Immediately, Dascha stretched up, arching her back and letting out a loud, “Meow!”
The strange woman reared back as if she had been jabbed with a knife, exclaiming, “Where did that come from?”
Zhanna finally responded, saying, “She’s been here all along. You probably woke her up when you ran into the chair that was tucked all away under the table.”
The young woman’s voice was calm and reasonable. Her level stare and assured posture were not what the older woman was expecting from an obviously country-raised youngster. Zhanna could see a shift in the woman’s eyes as the older woman decided to take a different strategy. Ignoring everything that had come before, everyone in the surrounding table was surprised when the strange woman raised her voice to call out, “I say that you are a thief! There’s no other reason for you to have three packs. You are sitting here and waiting for your accomplices, I bet. You are the person that stole my purse, and I daresay that you have my purse stuffed in there somewhere!” Turning majestically, the woman called out, “Police! I need a policeman!”
Spinning around to face Zhanna, the woman put her fists on her hips and demanded, “Now, what have you got to say?”
Chapter 6 - Consequences
The waitress had come over to the table in a big hurry, closely followed by the manager. Zhanna said to an increasingly broader audience, “It is none of your business why I have three packs. I certainly didn’t steal anything from you because we just got into town. This is a bad idea for you to push. What you’re doing is some sort of shakedown game, and I’m not playing it. I certainly do not have an objection to calling the police, but I think I’m going to ask our waitress here to please call them. That way we will all know that the person that responds is a real policeman rather than one that conveniently shows up. Especially since you were standing in plain sight, plotting with a large man, before you came over here to bother me.”
The manager who had been about to interfere made an abrupt about-face and headed back toward the central portion of the café. The other woman didn’t appear to notice him. Her entire attention was focused on the country bumpkin that was not acting appropriately. She began to harangue Zhanna, who refused to be cowed.
At that point, the big man that Dascha had previously seen in consultation with the blond woman strode assertively up to the table. Now dressed in something that looked like an official police uniform, he called out loudly, “I say! What is going on here? I heard someone claim that there was a thief in the area.”
The woman turned to him and said, “Officer, this woman has stolen my purse and will not give it back. I am positive that she has it stashed in one of her packs. No honest person walks around with three packs.”
Her accomplice whipped out a notebook and flipped the page open. Taking out a pen and turning a stern eye toward Zhanna, he demanded, “What is your name, young woman, and where are you from? I’m going to be forced to search your belongings. If we find evidence of theft, you will be taken before the magistrate and thrown into jail with the rest of the criminals.”
Still calm, Zhanna responded, “My name is none of your business. You are not a real policeman, and I have stolen nothing from your accomplice. When the real police get here, I will be happy to answer their questions, but will not provide you with any information.”
The man drew himself up so that his already imposing height and bulk looked more intimidating. His face had turned very red in frustration at Zhanna’s refusal to be cowed, and he roared at her in escalation. When the massive wave of sound failed to intimidate her, he stepped even closer.
The hulking uniformed man was so close to Zhanna that she could feel the heat of anger rolling off him. The smell of unwashed male, fury, and leftover garlic was so strong that Zhanna could feel her stomach clench. Despite the power of his confrontation, she stood firmly in place.
Before the battle with Krava, before Blagogarsk, prior to training and painful lessons, Zhanna would have caved. She would have fled or pled. Not now. Today she stood in the center of a calm certainty, buoyed up by knowing that she had allies and power, secure in her ability to cope with this threat, this danger.
The large man was so focused
on the young Witch that he was completely surprised when he opened his mouth to yell again, and two equally-large policemen appeared on either side of him. Grabbing both of his forearms in grips of iron, they stopped him in mid-rant.
Cutting through the air like a saber slashing through cloth, a strong tenor voice said, “Interesting that you’re claiming to be a policeman now, Stuart. Last week you were claiming to be a plumber, just so you could get inside someone’s house. I’m not too sure why you picked on this woman, but it’s not going to go well for you.”
The big man seemed to deflate, and his voice turned whiny, “I was just trying to help Annie, here. This girl stole from her, and we needed to get the purse back. It’s all the money Annie had.”
Thrown her clue, the woman immediately responded, “That’s true! She stole my purse, and I can prove it. I saw her stick it in one of those packs. And I bet those aren’t even hers. She is too little to carry all three of them!”
The owner of the tenor voice moved past the clump of policemen holding the big man so that Zhanna could see him clearly. The person that met her interested gaze was a fairly tall man, about 6 feet in height, with dark, close-cropped hair and a carefully tended mustache. His deep green eyes were very level and his face set in stern lines. The severity of his expression was lightened by traces of laugh creases and the soft footprints of humor around his mouth and eyes. Zhanna immediately liked him, responding subconsciously to the intelligence of his gaze and the concealed humor in his face.
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Zhanna blushed and straightened up, holding the detective’s gaze, and firming her own stance.
