Mono sneezed. The merchant’s wagon was a lot dustier than it had a right to be. “Where are you from again?” He called out to the trader who stood outside while Mono examined the cart’s contents.

“All the way from Damas,” came the reply.

A few days had passed since Mono recovered from the infection. Over that time, he had told stories at night to an ever growing audience while doing various chores for Emre during the day. Well, that was until Emre learned that Mono knew how to do math. After that, the only thing Emre made him do during the day was take the inventory of incoming traders and add tally marks next to the items listed on something similar to carbon-paper with a stylus.

Apparently, as the owner of the inn and central figure of the local community, Emre was responsible for taxing traders to fund the upkeep of the outpost’s infrastructure. And because doing all of the tallying gave him a headache, Emre made Mono do it instead.

Emre denied that of course. “Talents are something you should always improve,” He had said to Mono with a deadpan face, “I’m sacrificing my own advancement in math for your benefit; helping my employees flourish is very important after all.”

All of the counting and the calculating of tax afterwards was a serious pain, but it wasn’t all bad. He got to meet well-travelled people and learn more about a lot of interesting things.

Noticing jars of fruit, Mono noted it on his paper. “I’ve never heard of Damas, where is it located?”

“In the East, past the Shifting Sands.”

Mono considered the name “Shifting Sands” for a moment. After a few days, he had a grasp of what Sojourn’s stone appeared to be capable of. He could read other languages if he concentrated enough but was not able to write in them. While it often gave direct translations of words, it occasionally attempted to also convey the context behind them. It was hit or miss, though, and depended on what he suspected was the tone and concentration of the speaker since this function didn’t work with written text.

Thus, while the stone helped him understand that the trader was referring to a vast desert called the “Shifting Sands,” he couldn’t put in words why it was called by that name. There was only a faint impression of something that made Edgar Allen Poe’s A Dream Within a Dream come to mind.

“You done?” The merchant noticed that Mono had stopped moving to think.

“Almost,” Mono lifted the cover off a lump of something in the corner. Taking a look, Mono saw two very fancy looking swords. They were completely different from each other in almost every aspect except for an etching on the bottom of each blade. Mono stared at the symbols until they swirled into legible words. The longer sword with a straight blade had the name “Tizona” while the shorter one with a curved handle had “Kladenets.”

“Did you buy these swords from somewhere in Damas?” Mono asked.

“Yes and no, I found them while leaving Damas… abandoned on the road.” The trader responded.

There was clearly something beyond just finding them “abandoned,” but Mono didn’t push the issue. He put the cover back on the swords and walked out of the wagon. “Alright, that should be it. Make sure to speak to Emre before you open your stall for the day.”

“Can’t I just pay you now?”

“No, sorry.”

At least in the local area, the currency was tiny crystals called diems. While made of the same type of material, they varied in color which determined their value. Emre didn’t want Mono to handle them because Mono couldn’t tell the difference between fake and real diems.

“Very well then,” the merchant moved to the front of his cart. “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

As the trader left, Mono multiplied the tallies next to each item by their specific tax ratio and then added them together. When he finished, he double checked the sum while sighing. A whole other world and he still couldn’t escape arithmetic. Thankfully, that was the last person he had to check for the day and he was finally free to do whatever he wanted to until dinner time. After folding up the paper and pocketing it, Mono immediately turned towards the market.

The market, in and of itself, was not special. Most of the stalls were for groceries and miscellaneous items meant for travellers passing through. To Mono, though, it was something exciting. Many of the foods for sale were things he had never seen and other items gave him a window into the cultures that they had come from. Just yesterday he had come across a flute-like instrument made entirely out of grass which came from a place where wood was a sparse resource.

Stalls used various methods of attracting attention from both the travellers and locals in order to sell their wares or services. Walking into the market, Mono didn’t have to look far to see these demonstrations. Klyar, the man who ran a repair and alteration service, was repeatedly breaking objects with a wooden mallet before seamlessly piecing them back together with his bare hands. Behind him, a woman who sold soap and purified water was blowing bubbles of soapy water in impossible shapes that delighted the children who also frequented the market. The cubes, diamonds, rings, and animals floated gently through the air before popping into bits of water that sparkled in the sun.

Mono stopped to take a look at a stand which sold parchment and other writing materials. Colorful butterflies with intricate patterns fluttered around and above the tabletop while occasionally landing on the paper flowers strewn about below. Whenever one stopped moving, Mono took a moment to admire it. The most interesting part about these insects wasn’t the patterns on the wings but rather the bugs themselves. They were also made out of paper.

“Mono!” The lady behind the table who had been busy folding something finally looked up and noticed him. “What do you think?” She held up a paper hummingbird.

Mono leaned in to take in the details. Hummingbirds weren’t something that the people here had ever seen before. Despite that, she had folded a single paper into a lifelike hummingbird from just his description of it in one of his stories. It was impressive. “Amazing, Celia, I can almost imagine it flying out of your hand.”

“Thank you.” Celia closed her eyes and moved the hummingbird, which was sitting on top of her palm, in front of her face. After a brief moment, she gently blew on her creation, sending it blowing out of her hand. The paper construct spiraled in the air before hovering in front of Mono’s face. Its wings were now flapping rapidly.

Looking at the bird fly, Mono thought about the magic behind it and other things he’d seen. He still didn’t know how any of it worked. As far as he could tell, there were no spells, no skills, and no apparent structure. When he asked, most people either politely changed the subject or explained it in a way he didn’t understand even with the stone. It bothered him a lot, seeing amazing things and not being able to interact or do anything with them beyond look.

“Is that a hummingbird?” A voice to his right asked.

Mono turned to see Adamas and Vivian.

“Something like that,” Celia replied.

The construct flew over to Vivian, flitting around her head. She started to laugh as she tried catching the bird to get a closer look at it.

“Did you want to talk about something?” Mono asked Adamas. Of all of the people he had met, the Weavers were the most enthusiastic about his stories. In between running errands and during meals, they often talked. Vivian loved picking at Mono’s choice of words while Adamas preferred learning about the conflicts and battles of each tale.

“Yes,” Adamas hesitated for a brief second. “Vivian and I are leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Really?” Mono was a bit disappointed at the news. Speaking with the siblings had really improved his storytelling. There was something magical about interacting with his audience that motivated him to try and give the best quality. Their absence would make the nights a lot less fun.

“We were only supposed to stop by here for a night on our way home but we ended up staying to make sure that you were okay.”

“Plus,” Vivian jumped in as she handed the now caught hummingbird back to Celia, “we really enjoyed your stories.”

Mono was touched by their words. “Will you guys be back?”

“On the return trip, yes.”

“When will that be?”

“In about three and a half months,” Adamas answered.

Three months seemed like a long time to Mono. “I’ll try to keep some really good stories for when you two come back.”

“You don’t have to,” Vivian said quickly. “You could come with us.”

“What?” Mono and Adamas said in unison. Apparently, Adamas was as surprised at the invitation as Mono was.

“We talked about this, Ad.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Since when do I joke around?”

There was a brief pause as Adamas gave Vivian a long-suffering look. He did not voice an answer.

“Anyways,” Vivian continued, “you should go with us and visit. Our town is famous for its appreciation and creation of literature; we even have a library that rivals Atlatl’s. I’m sure our family would be fine hosting you, too. In fact, our parents would be upset if we didn’t invite someone who is as well read as you to come with us.”

Mono considered the offer. Conversations with the siblings were always fun and he would definitely miss them if he stayed. The library was also tempting. As both a reader and a writer, he felt that he was missing half of his passion living at the outpost.

On the other hand, there was the danger to consider. While there was a part of him that still itched for adventure, to see new sights and maybe even learn about how magic worked, another portion of him feared the same unknown he wanted to explore. His near brushes with death involving something terrifying like the tavryr or innocuous like the infection were not experiences he wanted to go through again.

The dangers went beyond nature as well: how would he deal with people like the cloaked thugs, who were more than willing to hurt others to get what they wanted? Granted, he would probably be able to count on the siblings for help, but there was still risk. Afterall, in a world of magic, there were probably other people who were more dangerous. Mono went back and forth, torn between his fear and desire...

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Adamas said, seeming to notice Mono’s uncertainty. “Give us your decision tonight during dinner.”

“Alright.”

“Until then, let’s explore the market together,” Vivian suggested.

“Actually, we have to run some errands,” Adamas interjected.

“We do? I thought we had alread--”

“Yes, we do. See you tonight, Mono.” Adamas gently shepherded Vivian away, pushing her towards the inn. Watching the two leave, Mono silently thanked Adamas for allowing him to think through his options in private. Well, with some privacy.

“What do you think I should do, Celia?” Mono asked. The vendor was just an acquaintance, but maybe she could weigh in since she heard the conversation.

“Hm? Whatever you want,” she replied absently. “Go where the whim takes you.”

Celia was already creating a new construct out of paper. The hummingbird lay on the table, crumpled and torn in two.

The sight of the torn bird bothered Mono, a lot more than it should have. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Destroy your creations.” Everytime Mono saw Celia show off a unique piece, she would soon tear it up afterwards. It made no sense to him how someone could brightly smile with passion when exhibiting their hard work before coldly destroying it the next moment.

Celia stopped folding and looked up into his eyes. “It was perfect.”

The answer made no sense. Yet, for a brief moment, Mono caught a glimpse of what she meant and almost understood. It was twisted logic laced with melancholy and irritation; it was also not something that he wanted to comprehend or think about. Mono decided to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

“If you want to.” She had already resumed her folding, lost in a world of precision and inconstant imagination that Mono wanted no part of.

Taking his leave, Mono decided that apple pie sounded really good at that moment. Mono could use some apple pie. He had a decision he couldn’t make, and he was certain that the pie would help him get out of his head. Fortunately, Mono knew exactly where to go. He began to walk deeper into the market.