The company made quick work of Gin as they trekked down the sloping streets. It was still early in the morning, so the crowds had not properly developed, besides the one by the inn.

Even though Catherine had wanted to hear Manama tales, it was her own story of how she got there that had engrossed their ears while they left the city.

Cirin paid her attention now and then, especially at the part of a strange swordsman, but mostly he spent his time glancing over his shoulder.

He had missed her a couple times, but she was there. He sure she was following them.

By the time they left Gin. Everyone save Azhar and the snakes, stood by the Gin gates and gawked at it’s majesty. The spires of the city hovered well into the skyline, while a thick sea fog brushed over the tower of the city.

Otherwise, the city was green beyond anything Cirin had seen before. He had no thought it previously possible for so much life to be present in one place. The very air was moist and buzzing.

“Enough staring!” bellowed Azhar, quite a ways a head on the road, “We need ta move if we hope ta make it to da Bazaar!”

“Bazaar?” questioned Cirin.

Manama and Catherine brushed passed him.

Toftof placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Aye, da Bazaar.” The imp of a man lifted his stubby arm towards Azhar and extended his finger in the man’s direction, “Da Bazaar of Orliego, da home of Azhar.”

“Da Old Mon’s!?”

Toftof let out his scruffy laugh and kept walking, leaving Cirin to stumble after him.

“He hasn’t been dere in twenty years dough.” Confessed Toftof.

“What kind of a place is it?” asked an eager Sol.

“Manama never been dere, but from what she heard from an old friend, it be a wondrous place.”

“The greatest amoung da free cities!” roared Toftof.

“One of the oldest to.” Added Catherine.

“A miserable rut.” Finished Azhar.

“Oi.” Entered Toftof, “Dat be no way ta speak of ya home.”

“Dat be da only way.” Azhar let his eyes fall on Cirin for the briefest of moments, “Dough I admit, I wonda how dey will take it.”

While they were close to roads of Gin and the flowing rivers, the company stuck close to each other as to not get lost in the various travelers passing by. Yet, as they splintered into more and more paths, the company dispersed along the road with Azhar and Toftof leading the pack with the first pack serpent and the rest traveling behind with the second pack serpent.

Cirin found comfort in watching the many farmers along the path’s edge. It seemed the rice fields that supported Gin lay to the west of the city rather than the south. They painted the roadside a luscious green as they stretched well into the riverbeds.

Once the last of the travelers who shared their path parted in another direction, Cirin dug his heels in the dirt, and swayed his body in the other direction.

He didn’t have to look to know she was there.

“What happened ta findin ya own way?”

Taba’s voice bellowed back, “What do I tink I be doing ya incessant ignoramus? I am travelin’ my own way.”

“No ya ain’t.” roared Cirin back, “Ya just be followin’ us.”

There were snickers from the company ahead. Cirin scowled at that.

Cirin cleared his throat. “If ya want ta go ya own way den do it ya own way, not ours!”

“Oh yea, den where ya be headin?” she shouted.

Cirin crossed his arms. To think he’d be dumb enough to tell her?

“Da Bazaar!” replied Manama, cuffing her arms around her mouth.

There was a pause. Until finally Taba answered back, drawing the attention of all the surrounding farmers, many of whom laughed.

“Dat’s exactly where I be going.” She boomed.

Cirin let his hand slide against his face. And he reluctantly turned his heel to rejoin his company.

When they stopped to rest, Cirin made his way to Azhar, who had been sitting on the back of the pack serpent cart.

“Should we really let her follow us, old mon?”

Azhar smiled dumbly, “I tought she be ya friend?”

“I dun trust her.”

“Ya dun trust anybody mouse.” Mocked Azhar, “Oi oi, relax eh? She seems stubborn, even as much as ya, mouse.”

“Why doesn’t she admit she wants ta travel wit us? I dun undastand how anyone can be so- so annoying!” barked Cirin.

“Ya spent nearly two months traveling wit Toftof and ‘annoying’ is da best ya can tink of?”

Cirin spied Catherine over his shoulder, she sat a shoe’s toss away from him, happily conversing with Manama.

“I won’t dare say anyting worse while Caterine be here.”

Again Azhar laughed, only this time he boldly ruffled Cirin hair, queuing the boy to retaliate furiously, “Look at ya, mouse. Caught between two women. Must be nice, eh?”

“It’s not like dat!” shot Cirin.

“Whateva ya say, mouse.”

“Old mon!”

“Say, what were ya doing dat night?”

Cirin paused. He brushed the man’s arm off his head and stood back a little, “Why won’t ya let me fight differently?”

“We’ve been ova dis mouse. Dun change da topic.”

“I’ve been tinking about how I’d protect da prince.”

“Really? Dat would’ve been useful last night.”

Cirin made a line with his mouth, “How’d dose men fight last night?”

Azhar lt his arms rest on his knees. He craned his shaggy head to the sky and reached on arm to grasp the sky, “Betta dan I expected. Dey were hired killas I suspect, not just ya regulah city bandits.”

“Do ya tink.” Cirin paused, “Do ya tink I could’ve beaten dem wit my style?”

Azhar chuckled in his throat, “Not a chance, mouse. Not even if ya had bot arms.”

“Den why?”

“Cause ya be too young. Ya try ta learn new styles witout masterin da first one. No matta what dose wigs said back home, ya be no prodigy. Ya be like me.” Azhar shifted his gaze to Taba in the distance. She taken a seat on roadside overlooking the farming hills.

“Dat friend of yours. She a fighter, mouse?” Asked Azhar.

Cirin shifted. He balled his hands. “Sort of.” He admitted. Though saying she used magic was out of the question. Saying she was the very magic user he fought in Ezmir was even more absurd.

Just when he thought that such a question could lead to no good, he tossed his eyes to Azhar and realised the man had an unusually devilish grin about him.

“Ah, da spirits be smilin’ on us, mouse. I tink I just found ya a training partner.”

“What!? Taba? Old mon, I dun need dat. Especially not wit her.”

“Heh. Let us test dis out.” Azhar leapt to his feet and started pacing.

Sol was the first to notice, limping to Azhar like a pup to it’s mother. Then Catherine and Manama halted their conversation, and finally Toftof called from a distance.

“Oi, what’s he doing?”

“He seems to be heading to the count.” Deduced Catherine.

Cirin held out his hand to freeze Sol in his tracks.

“Wait, Sol. Ya be betta off restin wit dat wound.” Said Cirin.

Sol held a hand to his mouth and tilted his head, “Where’s he going?”

“To a place I’d radda him not be.”