The following day, Eli was practicing his auric exercises in his room. Since he needed a lot less sleep, he’d been filling the hours, waiting for the sun to come up and the shops to open. He’d already had a productive morning with three more glowing spell scrolls stored in his DS. The chore of reading through another five pages of the codex was behind him for another day, though the stilted language was as hard to comprehend as ever. He’d even worked on his notes, writing a few observations and ideas from his dinner with the Tralaithe family.

Last night had grown awkward after healing Jenerasa, with Cavarach trying to give Eli a reward for his actions. He’d firmly declined, and Jenerasa and her son had left soon after, though her standing and carefully walking away had her family staring in awe. Of course, with her gone, that had left Eli as the center of attention. They’d kept shooting glances his way while he tried not to inhale his second plate of food, and he’d finally begged off any dessert and almost fled to his room.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts. Standing and taking two quick strides, he opened his door to find Melerasa in the hallway.

“Eli, may I come in?” she said, a nervous look furrowing her brow.

“Sure,” he replied, pasting on a welcoming smile.

She entered, turning to him with tight shoulders, her hands clasped before her. “Last night, you said you’d be heading to Herria soon and wanted to do some shopping today. My father would like to offer our family’s patronage to pay for your supplies.”

He sighed. “Melerasa, I told him last night, I don’t need a reward. I helped your grandma because it was the right thing to do.”

“You don’t understand,” she replied almost pleadingly. “You saved her life.” She paused and took a breath, slowly letting it out before continuing in a calmer voice. “Eli, I’ve watched my grandma fading away for years. We’ve all known where the Wasting always leads, and we thought this might be the last family dinner we’d have with her.” Even with her eyes filling with unshed tears, her voice remained steady. “Then you come along and heal her and won’t take any compensation. It’s too much, Eli. Please don’t put my family through this.”

Mystified, he swallowed his initial refusal. “Maybe explain it to me?” he asked instead, realizing he was missing something important.

“Eli, do your people believe in the Balance?” she asked quietly, her voice subdued.

He caught the emphasis she placed on the simple word, confusing as it was. “I’m honestly not sure what that means in this context,” he answered before chuckling, trying to dispel a bit of the serious air between them. “Or maybe I should say that I know the word, but there’s obviously more to it.”

She nodded as if he’d confirmed her own thoughts. “Everywhere I know of, whether the Alliance, south beyond the Remnants, Droch, and more, we all follow the Balance. Even in the depths of the most dangerous wilds, only savages would do differently.” She gestured, her hand twirling as if encompassing everything around them. “I was taught that our existence is filled with opposing forces and concepts like day and night, life and death, success and failure, and so much more – yet all seek their own balance.” She paused, and he nodded his understanding. “And when the balance, the equilibrium, cannot be met, the spirits and even the Oververse itself will intervene.”

Eli straightened, goosebumps crawling up his spine at the idea. As much as he wanted to protest the concept's absurdity, he couldn’t be sure she was wrong. After all, he was in a magical world with some all-knowing thing verifying oaths and who knew what else.

She nodded again. “You start to see. And by saving grandma Jenerasa’s life, there is a huge debt my family has to pay to maintain the balance. Your actions would normally call for a blood debt, but my father would prefer to shield grandma from such a thing.”

“Wait, a blood debt?” Eli suddenly asked, remembering Dara and Wolf making such an oath after he’d healed them. He’d meant to follow up but had never gotten an answer to that mystery. “Uh, could you explain that more?”

Melerasa’s face paled, her eyes going round before she bowed to him. “Please, not that. My grandma is approaching her second century.”

“What? No, I don’t want a blood debt from anyone. I just wanted to understand it.”

“How do you not…,” she started, her eyes searching his expression for something. Whatever she found had her bowing again. “My apologies. I thought, like the Balance, that everyone understood blood debts.” She took a deep breath, exhaling as her rigid stance relaxed slightly before meeting his eyes. “A blood debt, at its simplest, is a life for a life. Other regions and even some older families add more rules and restrictions, but your life would always come before hers. She’d be honor-bound to stay by your side until it was repaid. However, my father hopes to find another path. Paying for your provisions is barely a fraction of what we owe, but it would help. Is it really so much to ask?”

Eli sighed, deflating. “Alright, Melerasa, you win. If it’s that important, I’ll accept. I didn’t help her for the money, but I definitely don’t want her swearing a blood debt, either.” He slowly shook his head, finally understanding why Dara and her father had sworn their own blood debts to him. He’d need to square this with them as soon as possible. “I have so much to learn,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” she said, wiping her eyes before a tiny smile tugged at her lips. “And actually, if you’d let me escort you while shopping, I could also explain more about the city and our people. I know you want to understand our ways, which gives me a chance to contribute to our repayment. My family has already offered to watch my children until this afternoon, so I’m free to assist you.” Her expression turned hopeful.

He couldn’t help laughing, surprised by the smooth offer she’d slipped into their conversation. “Are you sure you aren’t in sales with a pitch like that?”

She simply shrugged, though her smile widened under shining eyes.

***

Hours later, the two of them were walking through the busy city on their way back to the Rest. Eli was wearing his new backpack, half filled with all the stuff he’d picked out, while Melerasa carried a few small bags for herself. At her suggestion, they’d started out at the Tradala Bazaar, where dozens of little shops and tables were set up in a series of squares on the edge of the Merchant District. After so long traveling alone, the squeeze of humanity had initially felt strange. Luckily, with her steering them through the marketplace, he’d quickly gotten over it and started enjoying the experience of browsing through the various wares.

He’d first been drawn to all the food stalls with colorful vegetables, fruits, heaps of grains, and more. Some were almost achingly familiar, yet others were utterly alien. All the while, the heady aroma of cooked meats and unfamiliar spices wafting through the air drew him in. With Melerasa pointing out the different options, they’d stopped and tried some of the local delicacies. While munching on the street food, she’d described the various ingredients or history of whatever they were having while weaving through the crowds.

Once he’d finished with the food supplies and pleasantly full from their sampling, they’d left the Bazaar for the nearby shops catering to all sorts of different needs. Their first stop was with a leatherworker where he’d gotten his new backpack. He’d seen something similar on Bearach, though the one Eli picked out had a more defined square frame holding it together. In fact, if it had been made from heavy nylon and canvas instead of leather, it would have looked like what he used to use for his weekend backpacking trips. He obviously didn’t need it since he had his DS, but he was mindful of Tanca and Wolf’s warning about keeping his bracelet’s storage properties secret. He figured he’d wear the pack when leaving or entering a city, which would help him blend in.

Inside the large pack were the other supplies he’d picked up from the Bazaar and various shops they’d visited. There was dried fruit, jerky, dense bread with seeds sprinkled throughout, a water skin to supplement his canteen, and more. He’d also grabbed another coin purse since the one Tanca had given him had disappeared along with everything else he’d been wearing after killing Boruta.

Sticking to his earlier words, Eli hadn’t tried to pay for anything. Instead, every time he confirmed what he wanted from a street vendor or shopkeep, Malerasa would be there. She’d hold out a fancy metal triangle with the same green and gold colors he’d seen above the Rest’s front door, and the merchants would simply smile and bow while giving him the items that went into his pack.

Walking around the shops with Malerasa, he’d started learning how to spot the different signs used for each business. It turned out he’d been on the right track yesterday, and the bunting, flags, and other objects all had a bunch of particular meanings. The colors and shapes were used like family crests, which for the Tralaithes was an upside-down triangle split horizontally, with gold over the green. The other objects or pictographs set outside the door were there to advertise the types of wares sold and that they were open for business. Far too many didn’t make any sense, but at least the wooden placards with something obvious like a stalk of wheat, a mug of beer, or a blacksmith’s hammer seemed clear. For the rest, he’d just have to learn.

Their discussion naturally led to Eli asking why they didn’t just have written signs spelling things out. The reason was apparent in retrospect: literacy was rare, and most of the populace got along without it. Any education would typically be handled by a person’s family, centered on whatever skill or craft the family pursued. Unless they were scribes or something similar, anyone below a Talent was likely illiterate. The Tralaithes were a bit different because they were merchants that dealt with far-flung communication and commerce within all levels of society. For them, literacy was a requirement for all adults, regardless of their strength.

Throughout the morning, the mountain slopes ascending into the heavens kept grabbing his attention. He’d noticed the stone walkways and openings in the sheer cliffs, and Melerasa had explained that they were used by Bishal’s council and any visiting powers. The Old City at the foot of the slopes was rumored to be from the mythical time mentioned in the codex when powerful beings and actual gods walked the land. It was hard to be sure of many details, though, since some calamity thousands of years ago wiped out anyone living in the area, burying the city in rubble and debris. When the Alliance was established only a few centuries ago, its founding families stumbled upon Bishal’s abandoned ruins. With the ready supply of valuable lumber and quality stone nearby, the city had experienced a rapid rise into the thriving metropolis it was today.

The Tralaithe family hadn’t been in Bishal for those early rebuilding years. In fact, they’d only moved to the Alliance a couple of centuries ago when Jenerasa’s parents fled the chaos of some massive crumbling empire in the south. It was a young Jenerasa who’d eventually moved here more than a century ago, bringing her husband and a few cousins to support their family’s continued expansion into Northmarch.

But then she’d gotten sick a few years ago and had to turn her duties over to Cavarach. Unfortunately, the Wasting was considered a slow and deadly curse sent by the ancients, and the family’s old business had dried up almost overnight. Consequently, most of the Bishal Tralaithes had been forced to leave for other cities, with only Jenerasa’s youngest son, his children, and grandchildren unwilling to leave her side. They were only a shadow of what they’d once been, but after last night, Melerasa was hoping that might soon change.

Finally reaching Tralaithe’s Rest, Eli nodded at the two guards bowing as he followed Melerasa inside. “I’ll just drop off my things and meet you at the fountain,” he said, taking a left towards his room. She had a prior appointment in about an hour, and he wanted to get her recommendations on where he could buy decent clothing and a good pair of shoes.

“Alright, I’ll see you there in a few minutes,” Melerasa replied with a smile as she took a right at the first door, a few bags under her arms.

It didn’t take long to drop his stuff inside his room, and he was soon back in the courtyard, standing patiently beside the fountain. There was something incredibly peaceful about the scene, with the sound of water splashing as a backdrop while thin clouds raced across the sky overhead. After the crush of so many people all morning, it was like a little sanctuary from the frenetic city life.

A few minutes later, Melerasa came striding into the little courtyard with a warm smile. “I’ll have to leave soon, but tell me, what kind of clothing are you interested in? You’ve had a chance to see plenty of examples today.”

He smiled in return since he did have a good idea of what he wanted. “I’m hoping this will be easy. For tops, I’d like something similar to this shirt you loaned me,” he started, plucking at the front of his long-sleeved pale shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was actually cotton, but it was close enough not to matter. “I prefer simple colors and soft fabrics over anything flashy. For pants, I’d actually prefer something like yours, but darker and made for guys.” He grinned, pointing at her pale jeans. He’d seen others wearing them, but they didn’t seem wildly popular. “As for shoes, I’m looking for something I can walk or run in all day. Oh, and comfort is a priority. I’m not someone that enjoys aching feet.”

Melerasa laughed with amusement, shaking her head. “I suppose it really will be easy if that’s all you want. These are called shatani,” she said, gesturing at her jeans. “They are traditional wear for the southern city my family originally came from. A tailor I know only a few blocks away makes them, and he would have shirts like what you’re wearing. In fact, I think that’s where we acquired it. His niece is a shoemaker and has the shop adjoining his, so you should be able to get everything in one place.”

“Ah, very nice. How do I find these shops?”

“Follow me. I’ll take you over and introduce you to Kraverach. His place is close enough that I can be back in plenty of time for my appointment,” she answered with a slight grin before heading for the door.

Slightly suspicious of the mischievous twinkle in her eye, he followed. True to her words, though, it was only a short walk through the cobblestone streets before she turned into a shop. The door was held open by another wooden placard. On the front was the image of an oversized needle and thread, nearly a match for a few others he’d seen earlier.

The inside was a bit darker, but the small windows set high in the walls still let in plenty of light. Different-sized tables were taking up much of the interior, with folded garments covering their surfaces. Along the back wall were wooden cubbies with stacks of fabrics and a door with a young man beside it. About a dozen people were mostly browsing and holding up different items while a low murmur of conversation filled the space. Eli figured a few were probably employees based on their matching light pants, dark tops, and the courteous nods they threw his way as he entered the shop.

Melerasa simply walked towards the cubbies, nodding to the young man beside the back door. They spoke softly, and then she turned and beckoned to Eli as she disappeared into the back room. Shrugging, he followed.

Inside, she was talking warmly with an older man with greying hair, both turning at Eli’s entrance. “Tailor Kavarach, I’d like you to meet Gifted Eli. He’s an honored guest of Tralaithe’s Rest.”

The slight frown marring the older man’s face vanished at her words, one eyebrow creeping up in question. “By your strength, Gifted Eli,” the tailor said in a rumbling voice as he bowed.

“Just call me Eli. There’s no need for the title,” he responded with a chuckle.

“Tailor Kavarach,” Melerasa said in a stage whisper, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “I should mention that I guided Eli around Tradala Bazaar and the local shops today. When I asked him what clothing he preferred, he asked where he could find some shatani, and so here we are.”

The tailor’s expression shifted into a broad grin, humor suddenly sparkling in his eyes. “Obviously a man of taste,” he declared with a chuckle.

“Further,” she continued, pulling out the small metal triangle. “Anything Eli wants is covered by our patronage. Please ensure he gets at least five outfits and two pairs of shoes. He’ll probably make an excuse, but I know how convincing you can be when you put your mind to it.”

“Your father’s marker? Hmmm, yes, honored indeed.”

“Sorry to run so soon, but I have an appointment I can’t miss,” she said, bowing to Kavarach before turning to Eli. “Enjoy your shopping, and please accept this small gesture.” She tossed him a little grin as she walked past on her way out of the store.

That’s how almost two hours later, Eli was walking out of Kavarach’s shop with two bulging bags filled with five new outfits and an extra pair of shoes. He was already wearing the other pair and was more than happy with their fit. Kavarach’s niece, Arinasa, had assured him that they were preferred by many of the messengers running between cities. More, since they were made from zamiya skin, they should give him tremendous grip on even slippery surfaces.

He turned at the next street, the Rest only a block away when there was a meaty smack followed by a dull thud and someone crying. Up the road was some big guy wearing an orange shirt, absolutely wailing on a kid. Beyond him were another man and woman in similar shirts laughing as they watched their friend beat up somebody else. Their victim couldn’t be more than fourteen and was already folded into a little ball to protect himself, but the asshole wouldn’t stop punching.

Eli’s bags disappeared into his DS as he pushed energy into Hypermind. His aura exploded outward as he accelerated towards the beating, a snarl already curling his lips.

The attacker had apparently decided his fists weren’t enough, and his boot was going back for a kick aimed at the victim’s head. But then Eli was there, hip-checking the guy hard enough to bounce him off the nearby building’s wall. He wasn’t done, taking a few strides and throwing a punch and slap that had the guy collapsing with a groan to the cobblestone roadway.

“Stay down, asshole,” Eli hissed with disgust, his voice echoing in the air. He glanced up to find that the dipshit’s two friends were already running away, not bothering to look back.

A weak cough had Eli turning to the kid, who was having trouble breathing. The immediate area around them was clear, but further away, pedestrians were staring, their murmuring whispers building as they started pointing. Down the street, a big group of armored folks ran his way. The kid needed healing, so Eli really didn’t have time for this crap – he’d have to end it quickly.