by Kara Jaynes
13
Aaric
Lunch was very different fare from what Aaric was used to. They ordered from a street vendor and were served flat bread rolled up, containing beans, meat and a spicy concoction of peppers and onions that burned his throat and made his eyes water. It was delicious though, and he ate every last scrap.
They sat off the side of the street, watching people come and go. Some of the king's guards walked through at one point, about ten or twelve in a straight line of pairs. Some of the people shouted and waved, others cringed and disappeared into the crowd. Aaric frowned. Odd to have such a mixed reaction.
“Well, I'm off.” Bran stood up, brushing crumbs off his trousers.
“Where are you going?” Adaryn asked. She had eaten her food as quickly as the men; her eyes still watering from the peppers.
“To see what news I can get from the city,” Bran replied. “I want to know what's going on.”
Aaric nodded. That made sense. He stood as well and extended a hand to Adaryn, helping her to her feet. Bran melded into the crowd.
“What are we going to do?” Adaryn wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Shades alive, those peppers were hot.”
“We are going to go find that guild,” Aaric replied.
They walked for close to an hour, staying off the street to avoid the worst of the traffic.
“Do you know where it is?” Adaryn walked beside him.
“No, but I have a general idea,” Aaric replied. “I talked to the innkeeper this morning and he gave me some directions.” He glanced over at a couple of young women walking by. Their white blouses were embroidered with bright flowers and vines and were cut much lower than the fashion in Ruis. Adaryn made a growling noise in her throat. “I can't believe any woman would dress like that,” she sniffed. “They have no self-respect.”
Aaric shot her a look, a smile playing on his lips. “Really? I was just thinking you'd look quite lovely in a blouse like that.”
Adaryn's face flushed bright red. “Oh . . . well, I mean, if it's just you, maybe I—”
Aaric saved her any further embarrassment by pointing ahead. “There it is,” he said. “The Scholar's Guild.”
The guild wasn't much to look at on the outside, but it did look different from the stucco painted houses that dominated the city. It was a large, rickety building constructed of wooden planks. The paint was peeling and the sign was faded.
Aaric’s heartbeat quickened. It was here that his father had spent so much of his time and it was here that Aaric hoped to find some answers. He hastened his steps and Adaryn lifted her skirts a little to keep up.
He knocked loudly on the door, and a few moments later it opened. A rail-thin man stood in the doorway, looking at them. “Can I help you?”
Aaric nodded his head politely. “Yes. I would like to speak to Luna Flores, please.”
The man's brow furrowed slightly. “Luna no longer works here.”
Aaric stared at him, thunderstruck. “What? What do you mean she no longer works here?” he spluttered. “She has to. My father worked with her on numerous occasions. It says so in his notes.”
The man looked at him oddly then shrugged. “She retired some years ago, sir.”
Aaric sighed heavily. “Well, may I come inside at any rate? I've traveled very far, and I need to talk to someone in the guild.”
“Visits are by appointment only,” the man said. His straw blond hair stuck out in the back and his eyes looked decidedly bulgy, like a frog's. “Would you like to make an appointment?”
“Yes, that would be splendid. I'll take the next available slot.”
The thin man pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, and a short pencil. “We have one three weeks from now. Whose name should I put down?”
“Aaric Wright.” It was an effort to keep from grinding his teeth. Three weeks?
“Three weeks then, at eleven o'clock. Good day, sir.”
“Wait,” Aaric put a hand on the door to keep the man from closing it. “Do you know where I can find Ms. Flores? It's very important.”
The thin man regarded him a moment, his large eyes narrowed. “I cannot recall, sir. Good day.”
The man promptly closed the door in their faces, leaving a thoroughly exasperated Aaric in the dusty street.
14
Adaryn
“What does he mean ‘by appointment only’?” Aaric's fists were clenched and his face was red with indignation. “How could he not recognize my last name? I'm the son of Baldwin Wright, for heaven's sake!”
I laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It's been a long time since your father was here. Perhaps others in the Guild will recognize his name.” Gazing up at Aaric, I saw he looked tired and hot; his face was sweaty and his hair disheveled. He also had a distinctly sour expression. Time to eat again, I supposed.
“Let's go back to the inn,” I suggested. “You look like you could use a meal and a refreshing drink.”
“I'm not hungry,” Aaric said contrarily, but allowed me to pull him back down the street.
It took us awhile to find the inn, and by the time we did, Aaric's grumpy mood had affected me as well. I requested that one of the maids bring a cool drink to my room and stomped upstairs, slamming my door and throwing myself on my bed.
It was unbearably hot, very different from the cool forests of the north. I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.
I stripped down to my shift and walked over to the window, opening it. A light breeze wafted through, heavy with the scent of dust, doing little to relieve the heat.
The view didn't show much, just a dirty alleyway with the occasional passerby or stray animal. I leaned an elbow on the windowsill, cupping my chin in hand.
I heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” I said, turning. I expected to see a maid with the drink I had requested. Aaric and Bran were standing in the doorway, a glass in Aaric's hand. His eyes widened with surprise and color rose in his face. He coughed politely and looked away. Bran leaned on the doorframe, grinning ear to ear, as he looked me up and down.
I remembered with horror that I was only wearing my shift, and it was quite thin at that. My face warmed as I hurried over to my bed, snatching up my skirt and blouse. “Do you mind?” I snapped at Bran, who was looking at me with unabashed approval.
Aaric, looking at the floor, apparently thought I was talking to him. He backed up, nudging the rude nomad into the hall. “Sorry,” he managed in a strangled voice, still looking away from me. He sloshed the drink over his hand in his haste to depart, practically slamming the door.
I dressed swiftly and ran out into the hall, nearly bumping into the two men who were standing right outside. Aaric handed me the glass, his face still red.
“I saw the maid come up with your drink, and thought I'd bring it to you instead.”
I took it from him. It was pale yellow in appearance and tasted tart and sweet. It brought back a memory of me sitting by my father, drinking it. He had called it lemonade.
“Thank you,” I murmured. I drank it quickly.
Aaric coughed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly as Bran spoke up. “I think I’ve discovered why the people seem so worried. From the gossip I heard, there's been a rash of outlaws terrorizing the surrounding countryside. Farmers and merchants alike have been attacked, as well as common travelers. Some are killed, though most are just robbed.”
“So our being attacked wasn't uncommon, then,” I said, refusing to look in Aaric's direction; I was afraid of blushing again.
“Not really, no,” he said. “But ours wasuncommon in that we were able to fend them off without any loss of life or possessions. Those who wield it practice magic down here, but it's not nearly as common to have it as it is up north, it seems. I believe it gave us the upper hand, as they probably weren't expecting it.”
I nodded. What he said made sense. We had looked like defenseless travelers, until attacked.
“That's not all,�
� Bran went on. “The king has been sending his soldiers out to try and combat the brigands, but as a result he's needed to raise taxes by a large percentage. Many of the people take it as an unfortunate fact of war, but some are quite upset over it. There wasn't much talk of it in the open, but I think there's a small faction that wants to overthrow the king and install new leadership.”
“Can't imagine the king agrees with that,” Aaric chuckled.
Bran shook his head. “I doubt he's heard it. The rumor was more of a choked whisper, really.”
“That doesn't make sense,” I protested. “Why would they want to overthrow the man who is trying to protect them?”
“I don't know,” Bran admitted, “but I hope to find out.”
He turned down the hallway to go to his room when I touched his shoulder, stopping him. “Bran, we need your help.”
Bran turned back, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Aaric is trying to find a woman.” I frowned at Bran's sudden smile. “An old woman,” I grumbled.
“Didn't know you had an interest here in Sen Altare, Aaric,” Bran snickered.
Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Aaric rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify Bran's comment with an answer.
“Her name is Luna Flores,” I said. “She used to work at the Scholar's Guild, but retired. We don't know where she lives. She knew Aaric's father, and may be our only lead to finding the sky jewel.”
Bran looked at me quizzically. “What makes you think I can find her? There are probably thousands of old ladies in this city.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “You just spent the afternoon getting a bunch of people to talk about their troubles to a total stranger. Surely finding an old lady will be no difficulty at all.”
Bran shrugged. “Guess we don't have anything better to do for now.” He eyed Aaric. “How are we doing for coin?”
Aaric looked a little uncomfortable. “Fine.”
Bran and I shared the same flat stare, looking at Aaric. The man squirmed. “Well, I didn't have time to grab much while we were in Ruis, so . . . we have enough to stay here for another couple of weeks, I think.”
“Did you bring any money?” Bran asked me. I shook my head. “I didn't either,” he said. “We hardly ever need it at home.”
“We're going to be homeless in a matter of days again,” Aaric said glumly.
“Nonsense,” I said briskly. “We're nomads. Home is wherever you happen to be.”
Aaric sighed. “Sleeping in hollows and under hedges is not home.” He frowned thoughtfully. “If I could just get into the Scholar's Guild, maybe I could sell some of my invention ideas. I doubt they have gliders here.”
“Except your stupid appointment isn't for another three weeks,” I pointed out. “You could sell the idea to the king.” I tapped my lip, musing.
Aaric shook his head. “You don't sell anything to a king. You give it, and if you're lucky, he might reward you with some gifts. Maybe.”
“Let's find this old lady,” Bran said. “If you really believe she can help us find a sky jewel, then she is our top priority.”
He started back toward his room. “I'm going to bathe,” he called over his shoulder. “Let's talk in the morning.”
Aaric and I looked at each other. “He's right,” Aaric said at last. “We need to find Luna.”
I nodded silently. Aaric turned to leave as well. “Aaric,” I said. He stopped. I hesitated a moment, then rushed on. “Even if all this sky jewel stuff doesn't work out, we can still stay here. Oisin won't follow us down this far south and even if he did, he probably wouldn't even be able to find us.”
Aaric studied me a moment, his gray eyes thoughtful. He shook his head. “No, Adaryn, I promised. I have to find it.”
“That's stupid!” My temper flared. “You don't even know if this thing is real. Aaric, your father wasted years of his life trying to find it and never did.”
“I believe it's real,” Aaric said simply. I wanted to strangle sense into the man. He was just being plain stubborn. “Besides,” he went on, “you know Bran will get in the way if we try to ditch our original plans.”
I bit my lip, vexed. I hadn't thought of that.
Aaric took me in his arms, bringing me in for a close embrace. “Take heart, love,” he said gently. “We'll find a way.”
I snuggled my face in his shoulder, breathing deep. Even after weeks of him being coffee-free, I could smell it in his shirt. I would let him try and find this jewel, but if we couldn't find it, I had to find a way to release him from his promise.
15
Aaric
The next couple of days slid by uneventfully. Aaric spent most of his time cooped up in his room, sitting at the small table, pouring over his books. Adaryn sat on the floor next to him, knees drawn up to her chin. They both drew comfort from the companionable silence they had grown used to during their time in Aaric’s city.
Bran would leave right after breakfast and not return until dinner. He told them of local happenings and of people he met, but heard nothing of Luna Flores.
“Let's go out.” Adaryn said one morning. The two of them were in Aaric's room again.
Aaric looked up from his book, peering at her over his reading spectacles. “Whatever for?” he asked, puzzled.
Adaryn shifted a little; Aaric realized the floor probably wasn't a comfortable place to sit for hours. “Would you like to sit on the bed?” he asked politely.
“No,” she said, getting to her feet. “I want to go outside. I'm sick of sitting in here day after day. I'm bored.”
Aaric looked at her, bewildered. They had been inside, true, but he found his books nothing short of fascinating. He held out a book. “Perhaps you'd like to read.”
“No, I don't want to read, I want to get out.” There was no mistaking the irritation that entered her voice. Aaric stood.
“Very well,” he said amiably, “let's go out. We'll take a stroll through the market.”
The marketplace was a plethora of noise. Sellers from their barrows and stalls shouted to passersby, trying to sell their produce. The produce itself was eye-catching: vegetables and fruits of every kind, and some that Aaric didn't recognize, such as small, dark green peppers and large, red berries covered with tiny seeds.
Ducks, cows, chickens, pigs and geese all added as much to the din as the people. Aaric noticed that as often as an animal was purchased and carted off, just as many were butchered on the spot. Flies buzzed everywhere. Aaric grimaced. He ate meat, but it was quite another thing to see an animal butchered alive before your very eyes.
Adaryn eyed everyone and everything with interest. She didn't care for large crowds, which meant she must have been quite bored to want to come out.
Aaric leaned over to inspect some of the peppers when he heard the one voice he would have least expected here in Sen Altare.
“Aaric! Aaric Wright!”
Aaric turned to face the voice, certain the shock he felt was written on his face.
A young woman finished pushing through the crowd and ran to him, laughing. Miss Grace Flores. The last time he’d seen her was at a social back in Ruis. He couldn't even begin to think why she was here.
As she drew closer he realized with alarm she was wearing one of the low-cut blouses that were so popular here.
Adaryn leapt in front of him, an angry snarl ripping from her throat. “Adaryn,” he started to say, “I think it might be best if—”
Adaryn pulled her fist back and shot it forward, punching the other woman as hard as she could in the face. Miss Grace had clearly not been expecting it, and went down like a sack of grain.
“Adaryn!” Aaric’s eyes widened in mortification. “You can't just go and attack someone like that.”
Adaryn sniffed dismissively, rubbing her knuckles. “She called me ugly last time we met and she has designs on you. Call it long overdue payback.”
Miss Grace stood unsteadily, accepting Aaric's hand. She glared balefully
at Adaryn. “I see you've held onto your pet,” she said angrily.
“So, what, you're going to rat us out to Kingsley?” Adaryn spat. Her hair practically bristled and her fists were still clenched.
Miss Grace sneered at her. “You're not worth my time, wretched girl,” she said contemptuously. She eyed Aaric shrewdly. “Though I will say, Aaric, you caused quite the uproar, disappearing with your pet. Kingsley was outraged when he realized she had gotten away. I've never seen a man lose his head over a slave like that. I don't know what he sees in her.”
Aaric barely heard any of this, staring intently at Miss Grace. Grace Flores. Flores. “Do you know a Luna Flores?”
Miss Grace still looked grumpy, trying to pat her disheveled hair back in place and rearrange her rumpled blouse. It looked quite a bit lower than it had moments ago. Aaric kept his eyes locked on her face, but grimaced, hearing the low growl from Adaryn.
“Yes, she's my aunt,” Miss Grace said. “I wasn't aware that you knew her.” Her eye was beginning to look decidedly puffy. Aaric was sure it was going to go black.
“I need you to take us to her,” Aaric said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. “Please.”
Miss Grace continued to pout, eyes narrowed as she glared at Adaryn. Despite the heat, her rouge was set perfectly. She folded her arms, tossing loose, blonde curls over her shoulder, giving a mulish air. She ignored him, but she hadn't left. That was a good sign.
Aaric cared nothing for this woman, but he needed to find Luna, and soon. “Adaryn, apologize,” he said in a tight voice.
“What?” The question came out as a strangled croak. Aaric turned to look at her. Adaryn's eyes were bulging in outraged astonishment. He turned and gave a pained smile to Miss Grace, who didn't return it. “A moment, please,” he said, then took Adaryn by the arm, pulling her several feet away from the other woman.
“Adaryn, please,” he said. “I need to talk to Luna Flores. It's the only lead we have in finding a sky jewel. I need to know what she learned.”
Adaryn glared up at him, her blue eyes hard as ice. “You're insane if you think I'm going to apologize to that—that—insufferable woman! I hate her.”