by P. D. Kalnay
“Is that your girlfriend?” I asked.
“My what?”
I’d also discovered early on that not everything I said translated. Ivy said that some words didn’t have direct equivalents and a few concepts from Earth didn’t exist on the First World. She had no trouble understanding me, but I’d occasionally gotten blank looks from other people. I supposed it might have been worse. Fae was the most commonly spoken language between peoples of different races, and the second language for most of them. I’d yet to meet a person with whom I was unable to communicate.
“Your… love interest,” I tried.
“I wish,” Falan said under his breath. “She’s seen us. I have to say hello, to be polite.”
The way he picked up his pace made me certain that more than good manners were involved.
“Falan,” the girl said. “What brings you to this side of the Quarter?”
I was also certain that answer was ‘you’, but Falan looked nervous, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Father asked me to show Prince Jakalain around the city. Prince Jakalain Moonborn Talantial this is Sharra Finar.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
“And you,” Sharra said. “I’ve never met one of the Fae before, let alone a member of a ruling house. You keep strange company, Falan Danar.”
An older woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Sharra, poked her head out of the shop.
“Sharra, it’s time for the noonday meal–” She paused at the sight of Falan and me. “Do you wish to invite your friends to dine with us?”
“If I may,” Sharra said. She gave Falan a shy sidelong glance, and suddenly I liked his chances.
“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Falan began.
He was laughably unconvincing, and Sharra’s mother did laugh before telling us to come inside. We followed Sharra upstairs behind an expansive shop to a second floor dining room that overlooked the street through a wall of tall, narrow windows. The furnishings told me that the Finar family was a prosperous one. Delicate looking silver dishes covered a long stahlwood table. The smells that met my nostrils were unquestionably meat-based.
“We might as well begin,” Sharra’s mother said. “Your father and brother will arrive when they arrive.”
“Mother this is Prince Jakalain,” Sharra said.
She didn’t bat an eye at my name, “Pleased to meet you, I’m Marra. Please make yourself at home.”
I kept quiet as mother and daughter asked Falan about his father, the Starburst, and its demise up the coast. Almost all the food had meat in it, and I didn’t pay as much attention to the small talk as I should have. I looked up from a spicy bowl of stew when the table fell silent. Everyone was staring at the doorway where a stocky man and a young boy stood silently staring back—mainly at me.
“What’s the meaning of this, Marra?” the man asked.
“We have guests for the noonday meal. Why don’t you sit before the food cools?”
I hadn’t heard a lady put that much unspoken threat into a suggestion since leaving Glastonbury Manor. The man sat. He did it grumpily, but he sat.
“Prince Jakalain, my husband, Valren, and our son Talren.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. It wasn’t totally a lie.
“And which House do you represent, Prince Jakalain?” Valren asked as he scooped large helpings onto his plate.
“I represent none of them,” I said. “I’m not on good terms with most of my family.”
“And what brings you to our home?” he asked.
“Falan, I suppose. He’s showing me around the city. I was a passenger on the Starburst.”
“Huh, give your father my condolences on the loss, lad,” he told Falan.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Falan said. He didn’t quite manage eye contact with Sharra’s father.
“Maybe you can confirm rumours I’ve heard, Prince Jakalain?” He made my name sound like an insult when he said it.
“If I know the answers,” I said.
“Is it true that the Order holds Knight’s Haven again?”
“Yes, although they haven’t done a great job of it so far.”
“And Havensport is open to free trade?”
“It is, the city is mostly in ruins, but people are arriving all the time and fixing it. The vegetation on the island has been restored, and food is available to resupply ships.”
He grunted and ate a few bites.
“And how do you think a few knights will hold back the might of the Fae fleet when it arrives?”
“Hopefully, they’ll keep the gates closed,” I said.
Then I shrugged. It was their problem, not mine.
“The sea gates are unblocked?” He looked genuinely interested for the first time.
“Yeah, they were functional when we left.”
“Why are you wearing a gauntlet at the dinner table?” He pointed to my left hand.
“Valren, he’s a guest!” Marra said.
“No problem,” I said. I pulled my metal hand free. “It isn’t really a gauntlet,” I added, before returning it to my stump.
He turned to Falan next.
“Rumour on the docks has it that the Starburst fell prey to a kraken?”
“Yes sir. I saw the ship when we salvaged it—masts gone, the rails torn away or crushed, and the hull split. The Starburst looked terrible, and half the crew were lost...”
“How did your father make landfall under such circumstances?”
“Princess Ivangelain, Prince Jakalain’s companion, bound the ship together with enchantments and saved the remaining crew.”
“A tall tale if I ever heard one,” scoffed Valren.
“I saw the ship, sir. Vines covered every part, and many were wider than my chest.”
Valren considered that for a few mouthfuls.
“Even in the old stories, only lone sailors survived kraken by the sheer luck of having escaped the monster’s notice. A whole ship breaking free—damaged or not—is extraordinarily.” He sounded as though he doubted the veracity of every aspect of the story.
“To hear the sailors tell it, it was more the bravery of Prince Jakalain, and Princess Ivangelain, than luck,” Falan said.
“Huh,” was all the response he got before Valren returned to eating.
“What will you show Prince Jakalain this afternoon?” Marra asked Falan, in an obvious effort to change the topic.
“I thought I’d take him through the Jewelled Quarter and to the Grand Bazaar—and anywhere else he wants to see. Father told me to return by dinnertime, so we can only go so far.”
“Sharra, didn’t you wish to visit Metreen’s stall at the Bazaar?”
“Yes, Mother, but what about the shop?”
“I can handle the shop for the afternoon.”
Valren looked up with a frown, but said nothing.
“Would you escort Sharra?” Marra asked Falan.
He nodded so vigorously I thought his head might come loose.
Chapter 13 – The Grand Bazaar
The Jewelled Quarter was a shopping district dominated by shops selling high value items such as gems, jewellery, and precious metals. Streets were less crowded in that part of the city, and a city guardsman stood at every intersection, no matter how minor. The guards were Anubean, armed with oval shields, spears, and clubs on their belts. Each was girded in a light coat of scale mail, but I didn’t recognise the material used to make the reddish scales. They wore heavy loop earrings in their left doggy ears which Falan told me designated rank.
Those guardsmen seemed watchful and unfriendly.
The quarter was also home to shops specialising in Imperial antiquities. The Shogaan Empire had lasted tens of thousands of years before it fell and scavenging the ruins remained big business, millennia later. Falan said it was a hazardous business. Treasures and heirlooms lay across the Empire waiting to be collected by those brave and lucky enough to survive the experience. The Jewelled Quarter was the pl
ace most of those treasure hunters sold their loot before shopkeepers marked it up and resold at a profit.
Anubean law forbid ordinary people from dealing in Imperial antiquities without a registered intermediary. My conversations with Falan and Sharra made it clear that Anube put a lot of stock in law and bureaucracy.
While everything in Gaan interested me in a general way, I had little interest in shiny baubles however valuable they might be. We didn’t go into any of the shops until something caught my eye through a rare glass window. The window displayed shelves of precious stones, both cut and uncut. A thin slice of jagged stone sat in the middle of a shelf, mounted vertically in a grooved wooden stand. Sunlight played across it at the moment we passed, revealing a rainbow of colours in the stone. It was the same stuff from which I’d made Ivy’s butterfly hair clips.
“Let’s go in here,” I said.
My companions looked surprised, but followed me into the shop without argument.
The dimly lit shop was packed with shallow wooden boxes full of stones on shelves, a wall of tiny drawers covered the back, and it had a musty, wet-dog smell. A wizened Anubean man, with grey fur and white around his muzzle, rose from a seat on the far side of the counter. We’d startled him from an afternoon nap.
“Greetings young sirs, and young lady,” the man said. “Welcome to my humble shop. How may I help you?”
I pointed to the sliver of rainbow mineral on the shelf in the front window, “I wondered what that is.”
“You have a keen eye, young sir, to spot so rare a treasure. That is a piece of petrified basilisk eye, a key component in powerful enchantments, the rarest of minerals, and precious beyond price.” The man made a dramatic flourish with both hands as he finished.
Sharra moved to inspect the flake of stone.
“Is any of that true?” she asked.
“Well,” the shopkeeper continued, “it might be. I’ve never seen another piece of that mineral, and I’ve run this shop for the last fifty years, since my father died. It has sat in that window since my grandfather’s day and drawn many curious customers inside, so it’s surely precious, and, since no one has offered to buy it—beyond price.”
“What about being a piece of a petrified basilisk’s eye and the magical qualities?” Sharra asked with a grin.
The shop keeper spread his hands and grinned a doggy grin back at her, “So proclaimed my grandfather to all who entered. The colours are nice. Might I interest you in a less mysterious item?”
“No,” I said, “I hoped to learn more about that.”
“Sorry, lad. I know as much as anyone concerning gems, but that is one of a kind.”
I didn’t bother correcting the shopkeeper, and after thanking him for his time, we returned to the street and continued on to the bazaar.
***
Gaan’s Grand Bazaar filled an enormous open square near the centre of the city. Intimidating levels of noise and crowd filled the square. I’d never been anywhere with so many people. Lanes lined with booths and stalls that looked more or less permanent divided the square in a grid, and a wide, main road entered from the south and led arrow-straight to the river. We arrived from the west along a smaller, less grand road passing between two of the stone statues that stood guard atop wide pedestals around three sides of the market. It cost me some jostling and cursing, but I stopped to examine the closest statue, anyway.
The statues weren’t identical, but they were the same kind of creature. It looked as though someone had crossbred a wild boar and a wolverine. Real life versions of those statues would have massed more than a white rhino and stood taller than my head at the shoulder. Stone paws spread over two feet across, sharp teeth poked from the muzzles, and long whip like tails curled up over the backs of the statues. Some of the comparatively delicate tails had broken off, leaving short jagged stumps. Each bestial face was unique and managed to convey intelligence through the empty stone eyes.
“What are these?” I asked.
“Maigur,” Sharra said. “These are the once celebrated officers of the Empresses’ Guard. The standing guard had their throats torn out by their replacements when an Empress died. Then they immortalised the former captains here in stone. That’s the Empress’s Palace.”
She pointed to a blocky, column-lined building that filled the entire north side of the square. The steps leading up to it marked the end of the booths and people. A city guardsman stood in front of each of the columns.
“It houses the provincial offices now,” Falan added. “That’s where you pay taxes and settle legal disputes. It’s said that if you can’t purchase a thing in this market, then it doesn’t exist.” He paused before adding, “It’s interesting to walk the booths, but they pay a steep premium to sell here, so better deals are likely to be found elsewhere.”
Sharra nodded in agreement beside him.
“Although a few things can only be found here,” she said, “between us we probably know merchants with lower prices for the rest.”
She smiled at Falan, and I felt like a third wheel, but I hadn’t paid attention to our route, so leaving them wasn’t an option.
“You’re going to a specific booth?” I asked Sharra.
“Yes, but I’ll be trying on clothing…”
“I can’t get lost here,” I said. The market square was the size of twenty football fields, but I could walk the edges in a pinch. “Where’s the booth?”
“It’s that one with the red pennant flying above it,” Sharra pointed to a colourful structure that was half wood and half tent. It stood straight in front of us.
“I’ll meet you guys there after I look around,” I said, and walked off before they could argue.
The bazaar was an exciting throng of people and merchandise. Most people shopping there scowled at or avoided me, but the hawkers and shopkeepers felt no such compunction. The result was I could move more freely than most, even with my wings. Many of the items for sale only interested me in vague academic ways, and I walked, browsed, and enjoyed the chaotic show. Then I found the section of the bazaar dedicated to arms and armour. Spices and cloth have their place, but I slowed at the first rack of swords that caught my eye and started to linger.
Those swords were disappointing.
My petrathen senses let me look into the steel and I could tell they were shoddy. One sword on the end, which looked good to the naked eye, hid cracks near the cross guard and might fail on the first strike.
“Do you see something that interests you, my lord?” The Anubean man running the booth asked.
“No,” I said, turning away from the swords.
“The lad knows garbage when he sees it!” shouted the goblin lady in the booth opposite him.
“Mind your tongue, witch,” the first merchant shouted back.
I took that as my cue to escape and didn’t stop until I reached a booth full of assembled suits of armour. Many were interesting, and a few were both ancient and well made. My instincts remained rock-solid when it came to metalwork.
“I can see you’ve a discerning eye,” a stooped man said.
The man’s black jackal head had gone grey along the snout and his breath smelled of sausages. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“I’m just looking,” I said. “Some of these are quite nice.”
“But not what you’re looking for?”
“Like I said, I’m not–”
“I’ve something special tucked in the back,” he said quickly. “A Marielain blade! Priceless, but for you I’d make a good deal.”
“I’d like to see that,” I said.
Ivy had told me that there were a thousand supposed weapons forged by Marielain Blackhammer for every real one. The man scooted behind the counter with renewed enthusiasm as his fellow merchant from the next booth watched. That section was less busy than the rest of the market and the merchants looked bored. While the first fellow went behind screens to get the sword, his next-door neighbour strolled over. He was another Anubean and his fu
r had an interesting brown and gold spotted pattern.
“I’d take it as a personal favour if you bought the damn thing,” he said. “Marhrl has been trying to move his Marielain blade for the last thirty years. I’m not sure I can take it much longer. We’re only seconds from the behold part.”
Marhrl, the first merchant, returned with sword in hand a moment later.
“Behold,” he said. “A blade forged by the Blackhammer himself!”
I wasn’t sure what to expect, and the other merchant snickered as Marhrl placed the twin of the sword—I presumed still hung in Glastonbury Manor’s library—into my hands. The scabbard was no heck and not my former self’s work, but the sword was. I pulled it from the scabbard and examined the shining blade. The name Axhiledar ran along the spine of the blade in the flowing fairy script, surrounded by mundane, but useful enchantments keeping the edges sharp and the steel flexible. As with the other ‘silver’ blades, I thought it decent work, but nothing to write home about. I pushed it back into the sheath and handed the sword back to Marhrl, who accepted it with a resigned sigh. His ears drooped a little more.
“Tough luck, Marhrl,” the other fellow said. “Maybe the next one will believe your pitch.”
“The sword is real,” I said.
I’d walked around for a while and needed to get back to Falan and Sharra.
“Pardon me?” Marhrl said.
“Marielain Blackhammer forged that sword on Knight’s Haven for an officer of the Order. Sorry, I don’t remember which one.” I’d mainly skimmed the book about the Seven Silver Blades in Gran’s Library. “The blade’s name is Axhiledar. I bet a Knight of the Order would pay good money for it.”
I walked away.
“Are you sure?” Marhrl called after me.
“Pretty sure.”
“Why didn’t you buy it?” The other guy called out to my back. “You could have had it for a song.”
“I’m not in the market for a sword,” I said. “I’m more of a hammer guy.”
I hurried through the bazaar, making my way back to the booth with the red banner fluttering overhead. Falan and Sharra waited out front. They talked, smiled, and basked in each other’s presence, so I didn’t feel guilty for making them wait.
