Myra didn’t stop running until her legs had carried her out of the town square, across the sleepy streets, and out into the fields of freshly cut grass that marked the festival grounds. Finally stopping to catch her breath, she surveyed the area for Liam and tried her best to forget the events she had just witnessed.

Spotting Liam at the opposite end of the field, she took a second to gain control over her breathing again before walking towards him. As she approached, she noticed that he had managed to snag a spot within a reasonable distance from the graveyards and was at work setting stakes into the ground that would mark out the perimeter of his family’s stand.

Giving herself one last shake to clear her head of previous events, she approached Liam and tapped him on the shoulder. Glancing up at her, he smiled and motioned for her to join him.

“Hey, Myra. You’re just in time. Help me tie off the ropes for the tarp and then we can get started on the stand.”

Myra moved to help, and, as she tied ropes to the stakes, Liam began to pepper her with questions.

“So how was the execution? Did you see old man Millard? Did the Storyteller really burn his book?”

“Fine, yes, and yes,” came Myra’s flat reply.

Liam smiled and laughed at her demeanor.

“Ha! Fine was it? I knew you wouldn’t like seeing that. Why did you decide to go?”

Myra shook her head.

“Can we just…not talk about it?”

“Oh, come on. You can tell me!”

“Nope. Not happening. Now shut up before I leave you to set up by yourself.”

“Hmph. Fine. Be that way Ms. Grumpy-pants.”

Silence settled between them for a minute as they continued to work before Myra sighed and relented a little.

“Oh, okay I’m sorry Liam. You’re right, I didn’t like watching it, so I’d really rather just forget about the whole thing. Okay? Please?”

Liam tilted his head to the side and pretended to consider her words carefully before replying.

“Hmm okay. I guess I can let it go. But that means you’re going to help me set up all day, deal?”

Myra cracked a smile at Liam’s enterprising spirit.

“Deal. Now let’s get your stand set up.”

The two worked industriously together, assembling the tarp and tables within the area that Liam had marked out. They worked through the morning before taking a break to eat lunch and observe the other merchants setting up shops around the clearing.

As Myra crunched away at an apple that Liam had bought just a few stalls down, she spoke up.

“Oh. I almost forgot. Tell your mom thanks for the soup last night. It was delicious as always.”

“Sure sure, I’ll pass it along,” Liam replied absently.

“Speaking of your mom, where is she? Shouldn’t she be here to help us already?”

Liam frowned as he responded.

“She probably won’t be here until later. She wanted to bake twice as much to sell since we sold out so fast last year. She’s been working her butt off for the last few days getting everything ready and she was still cooking when I left this morning. That’s why I asked you for help setting up.”

“What about your brother? Where’s he during all this?”

At this, Liam’s frown deepened,

“He’s off hunting with Dad. They’re supposed to be back tonight.”

Myra took note of his dour expression and smiled internally.

“Still upset that your dad won’t take you hunting yet?”

Liam crossed his arms and sighed.

“Of course I am! I’m already eleven years old and he still thinks I’m too young! When is he finally going to take me? When I’m twenty?”

“When did he first start taking your brother?”

Liam scratched his head and looked away.

“Well…okay Trevor may have been a little older than eleven. I think he was around fourteen when Dad started taking him. But still! Of course Dad waited longer to take Trev! He’s a mess! It’s a wonder he didn’t accidentally put an arrow in Dad the first time they went out.”

“What makes you think you won’t do that?”

“…instinct? Come on Myra you’ve got to understand me on this! How am I ever going to be a soldier if my Dad won’t even let me shoot a bow?”

“Maybe you could just be infantry or something?”

“Nobody writes songs about infantry.”

“What about cavalry?”

“You know I’m terrified of horses.”

“Ooo but wouldn’t that make a wonderful song? The cavalryman who overcomes his fear of horses to ride in and save the day?”

“Well…I guess that doesn’t sound too…” Liam stopped midsentence as he saw Myra’s face.

“Hey! I see you trying not to laugh! You know what? I don’t have to sit here and take this!”

Liam stomped angrily away as Myra finally loose with her bottled up laughter.

“Liam, wait! I’m sorry! I’m sure someone would love to write a song about the cavalryman who was afraid of his own mount! It’s comedy gold!”

“Ignoring you!” Liam shouted back.

Getting the last of her giggles out, Myra stood up and brushed the grass from her leggings before jogging up to him. She punched him lightly on the shoulder and flashed a smile.

“Well, have you asked a god for advice?”

Liam shrugged and responded with a certain amount of bitterness.

“I sent a prayer out the other day and I did hear from a god. But they just said that they thought I should continue trying to become a soldier. No advice other than that.”

“Any idea who you contacted?”

Another shrug.

“I think it might have been Ares or Belus, but I’m not sure. They sound pretty similar.”

He trailed off with a disappointed look. But before he could lapse back into his bitter mood, Myra issued a challenge.

“Come on sourpuss, I’ll race you back to the stall!”

With that, she immediately took off in the direction of their tables.

“Hey, no fair!” Liam shouted as he chased after her.

__

They worked on the stall for the rest of the afternoon, taking occasional breaks to lie on the soft grass or to walk up and down the rows of shops taking form and marvel at the vast selection of goods and foods present. After eyeing a particularly delicious-looking plate of steamed dumplings, Myra glanced upwards to realize that the sun had begun its descent. With a start, she remembered her appointment with the old Storyteller and, throwing a quick goodbye to a confused Liam, she took off towards town.

Finding the house where the Storyteller was staying was no issue. By custom, a large flag displaying the insignia of their order was always displayed prominently wherever they were in case families needed to find them in an emergency.

Myra could see such a flag now, fluttering above the roofs towards the center of town. The symbol of the Storytellers was displayed prominently on its surface; an image of an open book with a crescent moon on one page and an ibis on the other.

As she approached the house, she was surprised to see how modest the building was. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected, but she thought that perhaps she would find him living in either some palatial mansion or some dark cave, not anything in between.

Taking a deep breath, Myra mounted the steps and stood in front of the door.