Chapter Three

Market Day

“Vidaar, stay close. I don’t want to lose you,” Inerys said as she hurried after her brother.

It was one of those rare mornings where the sun had managed to chase away the stubborn mists in their entirety, leaving the city open and bare. Shadows stood dark and crisp between the stonework buildings of the district square and the whole world was somehow sharper than she remembered. The towering spires of the Sorcerer’s Guild, which were all but invisible any other day, stood tall and proud amid an unfamiliar blue sky. If she were being honest, she found it all a bit disconcerting.

She felt oddly exposed here in the city, despite the throng around them. She could see everything, sure. But everything and everyone could see her. She stifled a shudder. Perhaps she was spending too much time out in the Wilds.

At least there were fewer purebloods in the forest.

With a deft hand, she checked the pins holding her hair in place about her ears. Mercifully, still snug. Even so, if she jostled around too much, they were likely to fall free. Hounds were not banned from the city, exactly, but the purebloods often made life difficult enough that those of any mixed heritage tended to stay away. Some, like Vidaar, were lucky enough to be born without the tell-tale ears of the Adai.

She spied his bobbing mop of unruly hair a few paces ahead and quickened her pace. Every so often, she caught the scent of a particularly ripe armpit amid the sweeter scents of baked goods and late season flowers as she wove her pursuit through the masses. And took her fair share of wayward elbows to the gut. She muttered under her breath, cursing the little pup for talking her into this venture in the first place.

He was hardly past his seventh year and already, he knew just how to play her. Curse her sweet tooth. If she wasn’t careful, it would get her into more trouble. She had to admit, though, the boy was sharp. After he’d brought her breakfast in bed this morning, how could she refuse? He’d even gone so far as to feed Milo for her as well. However, she was fairly certain he’d done so to eliminate any possible arguments or excuses as to why they couldn’t leave early.

Regardless, his plan had worked.

“Vidaar!” She called.

He stopped short and glanced back over his shoulder.

“We’re going to be late!”

“And we’ll be even later if you lose your way,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I won’t get lost,” he said in a huff.

“Even so,” she said, offering her hand.

She was more concerned about him being out among so many strangers. Purebloods, no less. If she somehow lost track of him . . .

She shoved the thought away. These days, she feared she was far too paranoid for her own good. The world wasn’t out to get her, she reminded herself, even if it occasionally felt like it.

Vidaar huffed a sigh, but took her hand once she finally caught up with him. He was practically shaking with excitement and Inerys found herself lengthening her stride to keep up with him as he led her along. He clutched his satchel with his free hand, eagerly searching the many market stalls for his favorite vendor. As always, they found the merchant beside the great tree at the center of the district, seated upon a carved wooden stool with his wares spread out before him on a long, low table draped with sable cloth.

Dozens of leather bound books lay across the table in varying shades of color. Most, Inerys noticed, were copies of tales Vidaar already possessed. It was hardly surprising, given his affinity for reading, but it filled her with a certain degree of disappointment. Eventually, he would consume all the city had to offer outside the Guild, fiction or otherwise. She would have to find him a proper apprenticeship soon enough, perhaps even in another city.

“Vidaar, my boy!” The man called, raising his arms as the pair approached.

Her brother grinned and quickly abandoned her hand in favor of Suero and his precious books. He knelt beside the table, sweeping its length as he inspected today’s offering. Evidently, he’d reached the same conclusion she had.

“Do you have anything new?” He asked.

Suero’s eyes twinkled. “For you? Of course.”

He pulled a wooden box out from beneath the table and removed the painted lid with a flourish. The four books nested within were dry and dull with age, all appearing to be from the same collection of histories. Inerys raised an eyebrow.

“Origins of the Shattered Isles?” She asked.

The merchant glanced about a moment before he leaned in and said, “If the story is to be believed, it is a broken landscape somewhere beyond the Veil. The other three mention the Adai and their great cities.”

She paused, wondering how old the books truly were. It was a miracle they had been preserved at all. Especially given their nature.

Vidaar, his eyes bright with excitement, reached out, then hesitated, remembering his manners.

“May I?”

Suero nodded and held out one of the tomes. “Of course. Just be careful with the binding.”

The boy accepted it with a certain reverence, his eyes wide.

“Wow,” he breathed and looked up to Inerys, “can we have them?”

She could hardly deny his curiosity, regardless of her own reservations. Still, the books were dangerous in and of themselves. Anything related to the Adai had been burned decades ago, if not longer. For those of their heritage, life was difficult enough as it was. What would the purebloods do to them if they discovered these wayward books had escaped their ire? Histories told by word of mouth and passed through the generations were one thing, but physical accounts were quite another.

“How did you find these?” She asked, sure to catch the merchant's eye when she spoke.

He met her tempered glare with an easy smile. “No where of any great consequence, my dear.”

“Forgive me if that doesn’t lessen my suspicion,” she said.

The man sighed. “A nobleman inherited them from their father a few months ago. They were planning on burning them, but I convinced them they would be worth more than mere kindling. They were content to sell them to me and pretend they never existed.”

“Why not keep them for yourself?”

“If I kept every trinket I came across, what sort of merchant would I be?”

“I can keep them safe,” Vidaar said, clutching the book to his chest.

Inerys sighed. “I’m not sure about this, Vidaar. We could get into trouble if someone found these.”

“Then we hide them,” he said.

If only it were so simple.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, then scanned their fellow market goers a moment, as if the city guard would show up at any moment. Perhaps she was being silly. If no one knew about the books, would anyone actually come after them? So long as no one knew, she supposed there was no harm in it. The histories would keep Vidaar busy for at least a few weeks and if she were being honest, she wanted to take a peek between their aged pages herself.

Her unfortunate heritage had always been something of a forbidden curiosity of hers. Little was known about the Adai, even among their own descendants. Certain aspects of their mixed blood was universal, for most hounds bore longer, sharper ears than their pureblooded kin and possessed a sixth sense no human could ever lay claim to. Inerys often used the latter to her advantage while hunting. The inborn ability had been invaluable and saved her life more often than she’d ever care to admit.

Their mother had been a wellspring of knowledge, but she had been gone for years. These histories could teach her more than she ever dreamed. The thought both excited and terrified her. The books would have to be kept secret, no doubt, but surely there was no harm in learning about their own people?

After a moment of further deliberation, she sighed.

“Very well, but we don’t speak of these outside the house.”

Vidaar’s smile turned giddy. “I promise.”

She eyed him, to be certain, but eventually nodded.

“For now, we’ll tuck them away in my satchel,” she said, then turned to Suero, “how much?”

“Consider them a gift,” he said.

She blinked, arguing, “There’s no need for-”

“I insist,” he said, raising a hand to cut her off, “a gift, for my most avid and loyal customers.”

He gave Vidaar a wink. One the boy was quick to repay. Inerys couldn’t help but feel lost in the exchange. While she appreciated the gesture, she wasn’t asking for a hand out. She didn’t need one. But, she reminded herself that this wasn’t about her. Vidaar was clearly fond of the merchant and they’d paid him no small amount of coin over the years.

“I- thank you,” Inerys said.

Suero waved a dismissive hand. “Make no mention of it. Few will appreciate those dusty old tomes, anyway.”

“I know just where to put them,” Vidaar said, returning the book he held to the box before passing it to his sister. She slipped the collection into her satchel and took extra care to ensure the straps were done tight.

“There, safe and sound,” she assured him, “now what do you say?”

He smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Thank you, Suero!”

“You can thank me by looking after those books, hmm?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

Inerys hid a small smile, offering the merchant a nod. “Thank you again. I’m sure we’ll be back in a week or two. You two are becoming inseparable.”

“I am but a humble merchant, my dear,” he said, chuckling, “the books are the true prize. You’ll have a far more difficult time prying those books away from him, I imagine.”

“Likely,” she sighed, “but those are troubles for a later time. If you’ll excuse us.”

Suero tipped his head. “Of course. Safe travels. And mind the mists.”

He certainly didn’t have to tell her twice.

Vidaar waved his good-by and skipped after Inerys with a pleased hum.

“Will you read with me?” He asked.

“If you like. In the meantime, should we find you something to eat?”

His face lit up at the suggestion and Inerys hadn’t failed to notice the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Something sweet?”

Grinning, she leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “My thoughts exactly.”

~*~

The huntress and her brother had spent the better part of the afternoon wandering the city together, savoring their forbidden honey cakes as well as their time away from home. Nan seldom brought her brother beyond the outer villages while Inerys was away, so such outings only ever occurred every few weeks when she was between hunts. She could easily endure another day of sore feet if it meant bringing a smile to his face.

She had taken great care to tuck him in that evening, having spent more than an hour reading to him from one of his newly acquired books. After some debate, they had settled on Origins of the Shattered Isles. A curious tale that, albeit entertaining, seemed a bit too far fetched to be true. Fiction or no, Vidaar had adored it all the same. She’d read until he fell asleep and then some, just to be certain.

Setting the book aside, she placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead and crept out of the room. Grimacing, she inwardly cursed the wayward groan of the door’s troublesome hinges. After a moment spent in pause to listen, she dared to peek back into the room. Mercifully, her brother was still asleep, a rogue curl rustling above his nose in time with his breathing. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief and made her way to her own room to fetch her cloak and boots.

Her Nan was waiting beside the fire when she eventually made her way downstairs, fastening her cloak with her mother’s moonflower broach. Nan glanced up from the half knit blanket in her lap and offered her granddaughter a knowing smile. Inerys couldn’t help the nervous edge to her lips when she noticed the look and her skin grew flush well before the woman even spoke.

“Off to the tavern with your friend?” She asked.

Inerys’ cheeks grew hot. Her lips parted to offer explanation, but when none took wing, Nan chuckled.

“No need. He’s already waiting for you outside. Go enjoy yourself, love.”

Inerys fidgeted a moment, then awkwardly nodded.

“Thank you, Nan,” she said, almost too quickly.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She called after her.

“Of course, Nan!”

The huntress hastily shut the door behind her, only to press her back against it in the cool night air and take a breath. Alaric watched with an amused smile from the back of his dark horse, her own resting idly beside them, saddled and ready. Eyes glinting, her friend arched a single brow in question.

“Should I be worried?”

“Hardly,” Inerys said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “If my mother’s stories are to be believed, I’m rather boring by comparison. It seems old Nan isn’t quite as innocent as she appears.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled, then raised Milo’s reins, “Shall we?”

Biting her lip, she unhitched herself from the door and swung herself into her saddle. Milo gave a soft snort and a peeved swish of his tail. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate being disturbed after dinner. She soothed him with a pat to the neck and a not-so-subtle bribe from her pocket. He reached around to accept the mint with a low, appreciative nicker.

“Spoiled old man,” she chided.

Straightening, she offered Alaric a smile. “Lead the way.”