Burn's eyes lingered on the necklace, a little too interested. He shifted on the back of his horse, one hand tightening on the reigns, as though he wanted to touch the stone but was barely containing himself. Sora felt extremely uncomfortable; she was reminded of how little she knew about the Cat's Eye, and about this man's intentions. So what if he seemed friendly? He obviously wanted to use the necklace just like the rest of them.
Burn finally whistled between his teeth in admiration. “Whew! Imagine that, a real-life Cat's Eye. I've seen a lot of rare things in my life, but this...?” He shook his head slowly. “Well then, this changes everything. I suppose if we're going to cross the swamp, we'll need supplies.”
Dorian was already holding up Sora's bag of coins, and he bounced it in his hand to show its weight.
Burn nodded again, this time thoughtful. He looked at Crash. “Why don't you take the girl into town while Dorian tends to his wound?” he suggested. “It'll take you most of the day, and a wounded traveler needs rest.”
“What?” Sora burst out, unable to contain herself. “You mean I'll be stuck with him?” She felt all of her excitement drain out of her.
It was Dorian who answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What did you think? That we were all going to go frolicking around together? That would be far too noticeable!”
Sora didn't get it. She stared at him blankly until Dorian sighed. “Wolfies stand out too much,” he explained seriously. “Were Volcrian to follow us here, he would be able to track us down far too easily. Besides... my wound....”
It made sense, but she didn't see why he had to be snide about it. She shrugged, trying not to feel embarrassed again. She felt like she was in a constant state of humiliation. “I can understand,” she said. “I just... well, I figured we'd all go together. I didn't realize.”
“Don't worry your sweet head about it,” Burn told her with a wink. “Crash isn't all that bad. At least he's quiet. You'll probably have a great time.”
Sora could tell that Crash was glaring at Burn over her shoulder. She saw the Wolfies snicker at each other. She rolled her eyes.
The assassin took Sora's purse from Dorian's hand and tied it to his belt. He nodded to them briefly. Then, without further hesitation, he turned his horse toward the road.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, surprised. “What about lunch? Aren't we going to take a break?”
He didn't say a word. They moved into a fast trot, leaving to two Wolfies behind. Well, they have a point, Sora thought. The assassin was the quietest man she had ever met.
She caught Dorian's voice as they rode away; the man was waving to her. “Farewell, sweetheart!” he called. “'Til we meet again! And Crash, let her buy something pretty, will you? Keep up the morale!”
Something pretty? She wanted to roll her eyes again. She had left her manor to escape from pretty things. She had spent sixteen years in a gilded cage and now she wanted out – didn't they realize that? No more prettiness and no more meaningless privilege, she thought to herself. She just wished that they would take her more seriously, speak to her as an equal. One would think that her noble blood would garner some sort of respect, but they treated her much the opposite, as though she had never set foot into the real world before... and, she hated to admit, they were right. I'll show them. I'm not just some innocent fool.
Sora turned back to the Wolfies and glared, trying to look tough, but they were speaking to one another and too far away to notice. Then her eyes caught on the distant outline of rooftops. She looked up, a tremor of excitement running through her. The Wolfies and their demeaning conversation was swept from her mind. She could see the vague silhouette of Mayville in the distance and she felt her heart leap. It might be with less than perfect company, but it was still her first trip to a town — ever. This was something to look forward to.
“I've said this before,” the assassin murmured behind her. “But-”
“Don't do anything stupid, or I'll regret it?” she asked, ready for the threat. She turned slightly to catch his eye.
He met her gaze; it wasn't a very nice look. She was reminded that this was not the lighthearted Dorian or the friendly Burn. Her enthusiasm wilted immediately.
“I see you haven't forgotten,” he murmured. Did a smile flicker over his face? If so, then it was a rotten, ironic look. Then the assassin reached up and pulled his cloak over his head, a black shield against the noontime sun. Even in broad daylight, he looked menacing.
She turned back towards the town, unnerved.
* * * * *
"It's too crowded," Sora muttered under her breath about two hours later, after narrowly avoiding yet another stampede. It seemed like everyone from the surrounding countryside was at the market. Well, it was Spring — and there had just been a harvest.
“Stop dawdling,” Crash said sharply, then dragged her through another swarm of people. It seemed like no matter which direction she turned, she was blocked by an impenetrable wall of bodies. Sora had never experienced anything like it. She kept trying to breathe, but choked on the endless stream of smells — perfumes, roasting meat, pies set out on a windowsill, horse manure and sweat. So much sweat! The thought of it made her want to gag all over again.
Mayville was what Lilly had once described as a “midsized” town; until now Sora hadn't known what that meant. It seemed pretty big to her. She couldn't imagine what a city must be like. It was the opening of the Spring market and countless vendors were lined up on the cobblestone streets, with streamers and banners tied above each one, proclaiming their prices and wares. Crash led her past almost all of them, stopping only to buy a few biscuits, one of which he tossed in her direction. Sora caught it in midair and continued to follow, chewing absently, distracted by the shouting voices and flashing colors. She couldn't imagine yelling above the crowd — she would lose her voice within minutes, she was certain.
It wasn't at all what Sora had expected from the stories she'd heard. Towns were supposed to be wondrous places, full of mystery and excitement. She was moping over her disappointment when a man's yelling voice caught her attention.
“Goddess here! Buy a figurine of the Goddess! Her blessings will bring you good luck, and placing it in your home will protect you from evil!” A skinny man was waving around a wooden carving of the Wind Goddess, with several other figurines held in his arms. Sora could see that his stand was full of miniature carved statues. Half were of the three male gods, Fire, Light, and Dark, and the other were of the goddesses, Wind, Earth, and Water. Each god or goddess stood for a different element, and their lore went back to the creation of the world and the different races. Sora knew all about them, of course — mythology had been one of her strongest subjects. At one time all of the gods and goddesses had been worshiped, with each race paying homage to a different deity, but now they only worshiped their patron Goddess of the Wind. The other gods and goddesses were all but forgotten, along with the different races, though their shrines could still be found in isolated rural areas.
For a moment she considered buying a figurine — maybe it would bring her luck on the road — but then Crash was by her side, tugging her into the crowd. He didn't appear impressed by the salesman.
They waded their way to a store that read Dried Goods across the front window and stopped there. Sora's eyes traveled to the front door and she was stunned by the line; it was so long that it trailed out into the street and around the corner. She thought that Crash might try to enter anyway — barge his way to the front, step on a few toes, something to that effect — but no such luck. They followed it to the end and got behind a scrawny woman with two scabby small children, both smudged with dirt.
Sora let out a long, slow sigh, thankful for the shade. Once again, the town was not what she had imagined. At all. She was already tired of the cramped space. She wished that Crash hadn’t tied up his horse at the stable yard; she could imagine easily charging through the hoards of people, trampling them down like weeds. The stables had been a shab
by structure on the edge of town, ideal for passing travelers and idle shoppers. It hadn't looked very secure, watched over by a young boy of no more than ten. They had tossed the lad a copper in passing. She wondered if someone would steal their horse. Ironic, that. She tried to imagine the look on Crash's face if they returned and his horse was gone.
Thus distracted, she was shoved aside by a particularly fat customer leaving the store. Sora lost her balance and almost fell flat on her face. Crash grabbed her none-too-gently and held her up until she regained her balance, and she brushed herself off, trying to rid herself of the assassin's touch. I hate towns, she thought, her mind made up. Countryside was much better.
They left the store almost an hour later, Sora's arms laden with brown bags and heavy packages. The crowds were thicker and even sweatier than before, as it was now mid-afternoon; the sun was bright and blazing hot, and sweat had began to gather at the base of her neck, trickling between her shoulder blades. She stuck close to the assassin despite her fear of him, no desire to get lost. It had crossed her mind a few times to run away — alright, several times — but she had finally thought better of it. Not only was she weighed down with bags, but she had the feeling that he would easily catch her in such a cramped space, and she didn't want to test his wrath. She had caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shop windows, and there were red cuts on her neck where his dagger had slipped on that first night. She gulped just thinking about it. There was no reason why he couldn't slit her throat and take the necklace for himself. And besides, where was she to go with no money and no horse?
The sound of laughter caught Sora's attention, distracting her from her dark thoughts. She looked up, curious. A whirl of bright colors broke up the crowd ahead of her, and as she neared, she saw a street entertainer standing inside of a large circle of people. He was dancing to a music box, and he whirled left and right, a rainbow-colored cape flowing around him, scarves and bells twirling in the air. He wore a lopsided hat with a crow perched on it, maintaining its balance despite the whirling. Intrigued, Sora stopped as they were passing him, mesmerized by the flashing colors.
The music changed and he leapt into a new dance, this one accompanied by a magic act. He ran around the circle, pulling nuts and oddments out of children’s ears, then putting things in pockets that were too big to fit. She laughed and clapped as a spectator threw him a coin, which was caught by the large crow; it flapped and fluttered above the crowd, catching other coins that were thrown. Then the entertainer skipped off into a comical song about a nearsighted man who rode on a cow. In regret, she wished she had a coin to toss the bird, but the tyrannical Crash still held her purse captive.
Thinking of Crash, Sora turned to see what her dark companion thought of the performance. Her eyes searched the crowd and she frowned... then abruptly she realized that he was gone. Wait, gone? Really? She looked left and right. Yes, gone.
Sudden anxiety twisted her stomach, and she propped herself up on tip-toe to look around in a full circle. To no avail — her escort had disappeared. Fear and concern burst inside of her. Gods, now I’ve done it. He’ll be furious when he finds me! The man would probably stab her to death and throw her body in a ditch somewhere....
Wait a moment... if he found her! Crash had wandered off and left her behind, and now she could make a run for it! She was free!
It was too good to be true; she didn't know what to do first. Should she run into the crowd? Which way? Perhaps she could make it back to the stables and take Crash's horse. She bit her nails, suddenly nervous. Steal a horse? Why not? It was stolen already....
Then there was a sudden, loud pop! behind her, disrupting her thoughts. Sora jumped and whirled around, her heart pounding, only to find herself facing the street entertainer, who was watching her with curious eyes.
She gasped and pulled back. “Goddess!” she exclaimed. “You scared me!”
The man laughed but didn't speak. He had twinkling, aqua eyes, somewhere between blue and green, and for a moment she had to wonder at them, because they seemed unnaturally bright and shiny — like opals or sapphires, or — wait, did he even have pupils?
Then he blinked and the noisy streets came back with a rush; the fall into his eyes had taken no longer than a second.
"A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady," he said, and held up a large yellow rose.
Sora blinked and took it with nervous fingers. The young man smiled, then stepped away, turning his back to her. He picked up his music box in one hand and a bag in the other and started off into the crowd. It appeared that the audience had dispersed and the show was over, and the brief circle of open space was fast filling in with foot traffic. She was jostled by a few busy shoppers, then she waded toward the side of the street, pausing in the overhang of a large building with a blue roof.
She stood, ready to dive into the throng and run as far as possible, but found herself hesitating. Which direction should she go? Should she return for the horse, or just set out on her own? She didn't have any money or supplies, no friends, no map, nothing. She was lost. Lost in a strange town she had never been in before — the only town she'd ever been in before — and she had no idea what to do. She was an adventurer, right? Wasn't she supposed to be more decisive? She had the sudden, overwhelming urge to sit down somewhere and think about it. Drat! I just want to get out of here!
"Well there, little thing. Doncha have someplace to go, miss?"
Startled, Sora turned around. She had half expected the street entertainer again, but came face to face with a monstrous belly and a wide, bronze belt buckle. Her mouth dropped open. She craned her head back, quite a long ways, and found herself staring at a blunt, shaggy face, with fat lips and an exaggeratedly large nose. Mean little eyes stared back at her.
"I-I..." Sora was tongue tied. She didn't know what to say. This man was simply gigantic! Almost as large as Burn!
"Ya know, it's dangerous to be traveling alone these days, ‘specially for young ladies like yerself.” The man glanced around. It was only then that she noticed his friends: weasel-like cronies who hung in the background, grinning. “Why doncha just come wid me, little thing? I’ll protect ya from any strange men.” This time his cronies downright laughed.
Sora backed away, horrified. She had no weapons, no means of defending herself. What could she possibly do — throw her bags at him? Sure, why not. The heaviest one was in her left hand; a bulky sack of dried meat, tied with a rough string. She prepared herself to hurl it at his head.
Then she bumped into another body.
"She's with me," came a familiar voice.
Speaking of strange men.... Sora whirled around, her heart in her throat. She took one look at Crash and almost collapsed. Was she safe, or in an even worse situation? It was impossible to tell. "There you are!” she exclaimed, hoping to cover up her conflicting emotions. “And here I thought I was going to be kidnapped all over again!”
The assassin didn't even glance at her. Instead his eyes were locked on the giant. She didn’t like the look in his gaze.
“Is there someplace you should be going?” he asked the man. His voice was as sharp as a knife and twice as deadly. Sora shuddered just listening to it.
“Yer lucky there is, shrimp, or else I'd smash in your face,” came the guttural response. They stared at each other for a long moment more before the man lumbered off, parting the crowd effortlessly, cronies trailing in his wake.
Sora turned to Crash, eyes wide. A 'thank you' was forming on her lips, but she never got the chance to say it.
“Come on,” he cut her off, then turned and stalked away.
Sora stared after him, surprised; she wanted to call out to him but didn't know what to say. He kept walking. She waited, wondering if he would disappear into the crowd again, but after a few feet he stopped and turned to look back at her. The expression on his face was not reassuring. She felt as though he was physically pressing a knife into her throat, just by the look alone.
She scurried to
pick up their bags and quickly followed him, as though his gaze was a whip at her heels. He started walking again as soon as she had picked up the last package. She wasn't used to carrying such a heavy load and to be honest, she felt absolutely humiliated. As though she were nothing more than a common servant! She fell into step behind the assassin, bent slightly by the weight, but couldn't keep from glaring at the back of his head.
They continued walking and she kept her eyes locked on his tall, wiry form, easy enough to spot amidst the crowd. She had to wonder at the man's actions. Was he mad at her? He didn't seem to be, but then again, who could tell with the assassin? He certainly didn't wear his heart on his sleeve.
Like I care. He might have protected me, but only for his own self interest, Sora reminded herself. She scowled at his back for good measure. For some reason, it was becoming less and less satisfying. Maybe she should throw a few heavy bags at him, too.
They walked for a few minutes longer and suddenly the crowds parted before them, dumping them in front of a small shop. It was low to the sidewalk, with smudged windows and chipped paint on the door. A sign hung above the door with a sword on it, so Sora figured it was some sort of weapon dealer.
Crash swept her into the shop before she could say anything. The door closed behind them with a small ringing of a bell. Ding-ding.
She paused and looked around, hesitant to set foot into the gloomy darkness; it was not very big from what she could tell, most of it shrouded in shadows and dust. A row of old candles spewed thick smoke into the air, hardly shedding any light at all. The air tasted musty, like a bedroom that hadn't been used for a long time. Sora glanced uneasily at Crash and found that her eyes passed right over him; he was barely visible in his black clothes. She felt like he belonged in the musty store; like he would fit perfectly on a shelf somewhere, with all of his daggers and swords and road dust.
Suddenly, from the left of her, a voice drifted through the gloom — "May I help you?"