She decided to mention that.
“What are these—butter knives? You couldn't slice cheese with them,” she said loudly.
“A whetstone should do the trick,” Crash murmured, and plucked two long, curved knives from the shelf. “And we don't want you cutting off a finger.”
Sora opened her mouth to respond, but was distracted by the flick of his wrists. The blades spun in his hands, smooth as windmills. He flipped one dagger and caught it deftly, spinning it again between his fingers.
After a moment, he set the pair back on the shelf. Then he moved to the next.
He repeated this process several times with many other knives. They all looked the same to Sora, who stood a safe distance away, but she didn't ask what he was looking for. After a while, she stopped watching. Every flip of the knife reminded her of his deadly hands.
Finally he turned to her and offered two docile-looking daggers, almost twice as long as her hand. They looked blunt and bulky, but when she picked them up, she was surprised to find them almost weightless. She had never held anything bigger than a steak knife before, but somehow the grip felt natural; she could feel the dagger's balance and shifted her hands easily. She saw, or rather thought she saw, a hint of a smile pass over Crash's face. Then he asked, "Have you ever handled a knife before?"
"No,” was her only answer.
“You’ll work with them well,” he murmured. “Though you'll need a larger weapon.”
“Larger...?” Sora echoed in surprise. Weren’t these wicked blades enough?
He nodded, then turned, striding into the darkness. Sora half-jogged to catch up to him. He made his way down the center aisle, checking the shelves on either side. They passed spears, ropes, archery, hooks, maces, and other rows of weapons that Sora couldn't identify. Still he didn't stop. She was now striding just behind him, thoroughly puzzled about what he was looking for.
Finally, he stopped at the very back of the store, where the shadows were the murkiest. Sora hesitated to follow him into the gloom; she could hardly see. She stepped up to the nearest shelf and timidly ran her hands over it, then blinked in surprise. Both sides of the aisle were lined with wooden staffs in different shapes and sizes.
"Pick one," came Crash's voice from in front of her.
"What?"
"You need a larger weapon. I doubt you can lift a sword, and it takes too long to learn archery.”
“Why not a spear?” she asked.
“You need to learn the staff first. Trust me.”
Sora glared at him; he raised a dark eyebrow. She stiffened indignantly—then looked back at the shelves, rows upon rows of silent wood. There were no hints, no signs indicating what she should do. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know anything about weapons. How am I supposed to pick one?”
“Well, I can’t help you,” Crash’s tone was scornful. “I don’t know what will balance for you. You’re quite...short.”
“Petite,” she corrected him in annoyance.
He just stared at her. With another sigh, Sora gave up and turned back to the shelves, a peculiar sinking sensation in her stomach. "How will I know if it balances for me or not? I know nothing of testing for balance." It made her anxious. What if I pick the wrong one? And what good would a large stick do in defending herself?
"You'll know,” was his only response. “It will feel natural.”
Sora nodded in defeat. Well, there was a first time for everything...but she was pretty sure this would be hard, and she would probably pick the wrong one. Tentatively, she reached for the first to her left, a stout oak staff. Sora gripped it and turned to look at Crash to see if she was doing the right thing.
He nodded. "Hurry up."
Sora turned away from his scrutinizing gaze and lifted the staff off the shelf. It was so heavy, she almost dropped it. After fumbling for a moment, she placed it back on its perch. That definitely wasn't it. The next one was made out of willow, and she was attracted to its classy sheen, but it proved too tall for her to wield easily. She tried one made of pine that turned out to be slightly heavier on one end. With a small smile, she felt her confidence grow. Maybe this would be easier than she had originally thought.
She repeated this process several more times, trying woods that she was familiar with and a few she had never heard of before. Most were either too heavy or too tall. Finally, when she was just about to give up, her hand bumped into a staff that was placed far back on the shelf, barely noticeable. Its wood was a dark, dusty gray, almost blue. Lifting the staff from the shelf, she found it had a sturdy weight to it, though not too much to tire her hand. It reached eye level, and the letters KW were carved into the top, most likely the initials of some loving past owner. She gripped it in the middle and laid it crosswise. It felt comfortable. Familiar.
Turning to Crash, she said, "This is it; I found one.” She did her best to give him a smile, though smiling at the assassin seemed odd. “We can go now."
He nodded and took the staff from her, feeling it in his own grasp. He seemed satisfied, and without a word, turned back down the aisle. Sora had to rush again to match his strides. Sometimes she hated being so petite.
When she caught up to him, he was standing at a front counter that she hadn't noticed before. As soon as Crash reached for the service bell, the strange man appeared again.
"I hope you found everything you needed," he said in his musical voice. Sora wanted to lean in closer. Though she couldn't explain why, she could listen to that voice for days. His voice was truly like honey to the ears. She almost asked him to sing.
"Yes, fine," Crash said, his own voice like brass.
The man nodded and then smiled charmingly at her. He took their items and checked them over, assessing the price. He stopped when he saw the initials on the staff and glanced up at her, his eyes searching. "Are you sure you want this one? There are several other good staffs back there," he said.
Crash snorted his opinion, but Sora ignored him. She was intrigued by the question. "Of course I want that one," she said. “Why?”
"I'm not one to argue with a customer, but this is witch wood,” he said, as though expecting her to know what that meant. She waited for him to explain. “It's...for professionals. You know, trained soldiers or the King's Wanderers....” He paused, looking back and forth between them. Neither spoke. Finally, the man sighed. “I was holding it for another customer, but he is long overdue and I fear he won't come for it. So I'll sell it to you...for a bit more. The wood has special properties. It's excellent as a weapon, harder than normal wood, and can’t be broken by a sword."
"How much does it cost?" came Crash's annoyed voice. He dropped Sora's coin purse onto the table.
Sora held up her hand to stop him, engrossed in the man's story. “Wait. What do you mean, witch wood? You say it's unbreakable?”
The clerk frowned, pursing his lips. “Well, it’s all but extinct. It comes from The Bracken, a land far to the east of here. Very rare. The wood is unbreakable, and some say it has magical properties, but I can't vouch for that. This one was found floating off the coast.”
“Enough with the lesson,” Crash cut in. He shot Sora a glare when she tried to interject again. “What's the price?”
Sora wanted to scream in frustration. Here was another man who acted as though magic was more than just a myth, who might even know something about her Cat's-Eye necklace, and now she couldn't even speak! She opened and then shut her mouth, wondering if it was worth fighting with the assassin; she didn't doubt that he would lift her up and carry her from the store if she provoked him. And she had already tested his anger once today. It felt like he was growing more and more annoyed with her by the minute—and that wasn't good for her health.
With an angry sigh, she turned away from the store clerk and stormed toward the door, eager to leave the assassin's company and run back out into the daylight.
Crash bought the weapons and followed her swiftly. He overtook her at the doorway and grabbed her wrist wit
h enough force to hurt her, dragging her from the store. The clerk’s eyes followed them.
Outside, Crash shoved her into the alley next to the building that was shielded by a small sapling tree. Then he stood in front of her, eyes narrowed, lips curled.
“Dorian might find your ignorance charming, but I don't,” he hissed. “I am not your friend, nor your footman. Silence yourself, or I will. Don't test me.” Flashes of heat swept through her; she felt fiery and cold all at once. Furious that he had threatened her. Powerless to defend herself. It overtook her suddenly, a strange need to cower, to hide her face. I'm a coward, she thought, realizing it for the first time. Without my father's name, I'm nothing.
If anything, this infuriated her even more.
Crash turned away, looking for a sound in the alley; so he didn't see the confusing mess of emotions pass over Sora's face. Evil bastard! she thought, watching him. She blinked back hot tears, regaining her self-control, angry for letting in that moment of weakness. Her teeth dug into her lip, showing her stab at willpower.
Then she followed Crash back into the crowded streets. She was glad that she had the bags to carry because they hid her shaking hands.
The two visited several more shops. Sora stayed silent, as she'd been told. The sun started to set, smearing a gory mess across the sky. The crowds thinned to a few scattered people. Even as she watched, they seemed to slowly melt into the surrounding streets. As though by magic, the square was empty by just past 4 o'clock, draining with the sinking sun.
She looked around in wonder at the wide-open cobblestone streets scattered with scraps of cloth and paper, the only remnants of the busy market. There was a large fountain in the middle of the square with water splashing quietly down its sides; she wondered if it had been there before. The buildings around the square were closed, the windows dark, already shut down for the day.
Then she noticed Crash counting on his fingers, ticking off items on a mental list. "All we need now is a map," he muttered to himself.
Sora sighed; one more item to add to her already sore arms. Even an extra piece of paper sounded too heavy to carry. All she wanted to do was sit down and rest.
"Girl,” he beckoned to her unexpectedly. I have a name, you know. Then he turned and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow.
Sora stared after him, speechless. She thought of dropping the packages and making a run for it, but she knew she wouldn't get far. Finally, she started after him, juggling the bags in her arms. The packages teetered precariously. “A map of Fennbog swamp?” she called. “But no one has ever crossed it.”
“That remains to be seen,” Crash replied, and turned down another street.
Of course. Sora followed, still skeptical. What good is a map when the landmarks float around? She had heard stories of Fennbog. More than just stories. Facts. Each rainy season completely rearranged the territory. Hundreds of miles of muck.
It was beginning to get cold. The wind picked up and the sun sank lower on the horizon, now just a blurry rim of light. The stars had crept into the sky. Several twinkled right at her, winking merrily as though laughing at her predicament, telling her all of her worries were just a big joke. She picked out the constellation of Kaelyn the Wanderer and wondered if the lady warrior was looking down at her, somehow sharing her troubles.
She smiled softly at the thought, still staring at the stars. Her astronomy teacher once told her that all of the world's stories could be found in the heavens. Each constellation had a history, a piece of lore. If one listened closely, the stars would share their stories, telling of years long past, of places long lost to the world, of secrets long forgotten by man.
Fanciful, perhaps. But the stars were still pretty to look at.
The streets they were walking through now were lined with shabby shops and pubs set low to the ground. She could hear muffled noises from the alleys they passed, grunts and hoots and bottles breaking; she quickened her step. She still did not feel safe with the assassin. He seemed to fit in with the shadows, into the odd sounds from the alleys, as though he came from a place of murky smoke and darkness.
He stopped in front of a small shop with a large domed roof. Light glowed from inside like a giant paper lantern, illuminating the streets in the immediate vicinity. Sora stared at the strange building until Crash yanked her toward the door and opened it. He took her bags, then motioned to her to go inside, a very chivalrous act for a man like him.
Sora stepped inside. With a small click, the door swung shut and Crash paused next to her. She immediately reveled in the warmth that flooded her senses, and looked around the room in wonder. Cheery lanterns graced the walls on either side of the shop. She had never seen anything quite like this, not even in Lord Fallcrest's library, which was one of her favorite places.
The small circular room was jammed full of bookshelves, which were crammed with all sorts of books. She could see the twinkle of a thousand stars through the large domed roof. Tables set up like a maze throughout the tiny shop were stacked with piles of dusty scrolls, yellowed books and wrinkled parchments. The air was heavy with the scent of paper. Sora had the sudden, intense urge to curl up in an armchair with an old book and maybe a nice cup of tea.
Crash didn't make any attempt to find the storekeeper; instead, he circled a nearby table, leafing through old papers and books. Sora waited, glancing around, until she grew impatient. "Hello?" she called. "Is anybody here?"
"A second! Just a second! Hold your horses!" was the immediate response, closely followed by the unmistakable sound of a book closing. A small cloud of dust rose above a tall stack of papers somewhere to her left. A sneeze issued from behind the table. "Hearing ain't what it used to be," muttered an ancient, scratchy voice.
Sora looked around, wondering where the owner of the voice was hiding; suddenly she saw a weathered brown hat (obviously with a person underneath it) wandering through the maze of tables. I thought that was a decoration! she thought in surprise.
Then out came an old man, stooped and worn, with stiff gray hair that stuck out from under the hat like the bristles of a broom. He sneezed once more and looked up at her with vivid blue eyes. Sora thought he looked like a crafty badger or a gray fox. He wiggled a thick white mustache at her and scratched his stubbly chin.
"Well, what d'ya want? Eh? I wouldn't be out this late if I were a pretty young girl like you. Getting dark these nights—darker than usual, even with a full moon, and all of those ruffians out on the streets...." He trailed off, blinking at her. Sora was too tired to reply. She shifted on her sore feet.
"But of course, I'm not a pretty young lady like you, am I? Ha ha! And I certainly don't have my own bodyguard—eh, young man?" he called over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, are you looking for something? I'm a bit scattered at the moment. Age catches up with you, you know—doesn't matter how far you travel. Just the other day I almost set this whole place on fire, spilled a candle. Not very good for business...anyway, what is it you need?"
Crash didn't answer.
"A—a map," Sora said. The man's rambling was a little hard to follow. Now that she was in a warm room, the full force of her exhaustion hit her; she wanted to take a nap right there on the floor.
The storekeeper turned away and threw up his arms, making a loud sound of annoyance. He stalked off toward one of the back tables. "'A map,' she says, 'I need a map!' Well that's certainly a big request! A map of what, exactly? The world? Hasn't been made yet. The oceans? Mostly uncharted, except for the coasts. How about further inland? The City of Crowns? A grand sight, to be sure. The Temple of the North Wind? You'll need to join their discipleship to go there. Sorry if that spoils your plans.” He paused and looked her over. Sora knew she looked a mess—her hair was relatively straight, but her clothes were muddy and wrinkled from her nights spent in the woods. The storekeeper, however, seemed to look right past all the stains. “You seem like a well-off patron,” he said, and eyed their bags by the door. “Are you taking a vacation? A little getawa
y? I know of some great spots."
Sora couldn't answer the strange old man. Her mouth was dry; she was overwhelmed by the possibilities. The silence stretched—get a hold of yourself! She swallowed with a force of will.
Then Crash spoke up, saving her from further embarrassment. "A map of Fennbog,” he said pointedly. “The full swamp."
The man frowned at him, appearing genuinely concerned. “Have you lost your wits, man? Fennbog swamp has never been traveled, let alone mapped. The geography changes each season, anyhow. You can't map the weather!” And then he laughed, throwing back his head, spittle flying from his lips. Sora didn't think the joke was that funny. The man calmed down, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Besides,” he finished, “They say that swamp is cursed.”
Sora gave Crash a pointed look. She had tried to warn the men days ago, but of course, no one had listened.
“Right,” Crash said, and took an unexpected step toward her. “But we have this.” And he nudged Sora with his shoulder. She stumbled forward, her mouth opening in surprise.
The old man stared at her, his eyes narrowing, then his gaze slowly traveled down her face, to her neck, to the chain that wound under her shirt. With a huff of annoyance, Sora pulled the Cat's Eye into the open. She knew this was what Crash wanted, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't see how a magical necklace would help in the swamp.
The man gazed at the stone. His eyebrows rising almost into the rim of his hat, he took a steady step toward her. “Is that....” he murmured, still staring. “Is that....”
“A Cat's Eye,” Crash said bluntly.
“But...I haven't seen one since I was a lad. Where...where would you get such a thing?”
Sora opened her mouth to speak, but Crash cut her off again. “No matter,” he grunted. “But to my understanding, you are a specialist on such things, are you not? How might it lead us through the swamp?”
“'Lead us through the swamp?'” Sora balked, turning to stare at Crash in horror. Was she to be responsible for navigating Fennbog? Ludicrous!
Sora's Quest Page 12