by RJ Crayton
Then I started walking the streets of the market, trying to meet no one’s eyes, but also looking for vendors who could provide the things I needed. Shoes in particular. I looked down at my feet. They hurt, and the ground was just getting hotter.
The street was lined with many little mud buildings, and in front of them were tents or tables set up for merchants to sell trinkets, amulets, chickens, clothes, scarves, oils, candles, rugs, and everything anyone could need for their lives.
I ignored the discomfort of my bare soles and kept walking. I saw a man in a dark turban wearing a sinister scowl. I didn’t look away or flinch. That might make him suspect I was hiding. I casually diverted my attention to one of the shops. Someone selling saddles for camels. I glanced, but did not focus too long on any one thing.
As I walked, it occurred to me to wonder why the man who had taken Auntie wanted me. Auntie knew Zygam and had been trying to hide me. So she knew why. She said he’d killed my mother.
“Fresh vegetables,” shouted a nearby shopkeeper, startling me. “So perfect and crisp. Fresh from Bathesh. Come and see.”
I kept walking, looking for a vendor who might call out about what I needed. Here in the market, struggling vendors shouted out messages to lure buyers over.
When we first opened the bakery, Auntie would go out, too, calling people in to buy her breads. But that became unnecessary quickly. A few good words spread by her customers had managed to be all our business needed to thrive. People came to us. I tended to help out only a little, and always covered up, even indoors. Auntie said it was important people not be too familiar with me. Auntie always kept her hair covered with a scarf, and even though her smile was warm and her words kind, she tried not to be too familiar with those who came in.
I wanted to go back to the shop and see what it looked like. To see if I could make heads or tails of what exactly had happened. Only I knew I couldn’t go there, and it was eating at me. I kept feeling this tug toward a home I knew I couldn’t go to. Perhaps because it was the only place I had ever really called home.
I continued trying to look tiny and unremarkable as I walked, and no one seemed to pay me much mind. I found a rotund vendor selling one of the things I needed: scarves. He was jovial as he pointed out intricate, decorative fabrics that were expensive. I bought a cheap, plain one for the price he asked, and he stared at me a bit too long as I wrapped it around my head, leaving just a slot open for my eyes. I thought haggling, as was the custom in the marketplace, would make me memorable. Haggling meant we would spend extra time interacting. Only, the lack of haggling had made me stand out.
I resolved to fix that. I walked a bit more, and finally found the man who sold shoes, Jabreel. I’d hoped to find someone I didn’t know, but apparently, there wasn’t a huge market for shoes and his was the only game in town. It wasn’t crowded enough yet, and I thought Jabreel would be less likely to recognize me if I was one of a bunch. I walked back the way I came, looking at various wares, trying not to hop up and down on my hot feet. Finally, as more people came to the market, I headed over to Jabreel. I’d seen him out and about, and he’d even come into our shop to buy breads. He was shouting out, “Beautiful, sturdy, comfortable,” as I approached.
“Little girl,” he said to me, and I felt a pang of irritation that my plan to be less noticed wasn’t working. “Are you here with your mother?”
This was why Jabreel was a poor salesman. He asked the wrong questions. The only question he needed to ask was whether I had money. I shook my head slowly so my scarf stayed in place. I held up my pouch and jingled it for him. He smiled, and I knew we were back on track. If I didn’t really need a pair of shoes, I’d have walked away when he called me little girl. I didn’t like the way he said it. His tone implied I was somehow less than because I was a girl or because I was little, or some combination of them both.
He offered me expensive shoes, and I picked out a pair that covered my feet and looked comfortable. I haggled this time, knocking a couple of pennies off the price. Once I had my prize, I put them on and wandered toward the edge of the market. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I made sure the bakery was on my way there. That was a mistake. I almost gasped when I saw our home. It was intact. It looked like nothing had happened. A sign on the front of the shop read, “Closed.”
A chill ran through me as I thought about Zygam, his people, and his magic. They’d fixed whatever they’d done and simply told the world Auntie was gone from here. Closed.
I walked quickly away, stopping a few doors down at Hazam’s shop. He was a baker, too. He’d done well until we opened our store, and then most people came to us. With our bakery closed, though, Hazam’s was teeming with customers. I joined the line waiting to get in. As I stood there, I noticed a little boy who looked like part of the overflow crowd waiting to be served by Hazam’s bakery. Only, he wasn’t with anyone, his clothes were tattered, and he was skinny. Too skinny. Starving. He seemed to want to blend in with the crowd, the same way I was trying to.
He was alone, and I felt a pang of sadness for him. He was like me.
The reality of being alone hit me. I’d always had Auntie. And now, now she was gone. I sighed, and at that moment, I spotted the boy reach onto a nearby fruit cart and pocket a persimmon. He should be careful. If he were caught, they’d take his hand.
Just then, the fruit cart owner grabbed the boy’s arm and said, “Thief.”
I swallowed. The boy didn’t deserve what was coming. He was just hungry. Before I could stop myself, I stepped over to the owner and said, “He’s with me.”
The owner’s anger didn’t subside. “He stole my fruit.”
I patted the boy’s head and smiled. “It was a mistake,” I said to the angry vendor. “I told him to look while I waited for bread and we would buy fruit after. He misunderstood.”
The fruit cart owner held out his hand expectantly, and told me the price. I nodded and pulled the money from my pouch. The owner didn’t smile until I’d placed the money into his palm. Then, I grabbed the boy’s hand and took him with me to the bakery line. He didn’t argue, simply eating his fruit while we stood there together.
“I know you’re hungry,” I whispered to him. “But you can’t steal. Not around here.”
The boy was shorter than me, so I suspected he was very young. Even though I was fourteen, my height suggested I was only ten or eleven. Based on his size, I’d guess he were seven or eight. “How old are you?” I whispered.
“Ten,” he whispered back.
That was young. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t take him with me. I’d buy him some sufta, and that would have to be enough. I needed to find Auntie, and where she was was no place for a child.
Chapter 3 - A Stranger
It took about twenty minutes to get to the front of the line and buy a half dozen sufta rolls. The boy stuck with me as I departed the bakery. Within a couple of minutes, we found a less crowded spot a little ways away. I gave him three of the rolls. “This is all I can do for you, but I hope it will help you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I know you didn’t have to, and you did.”
I smiled and was about to ask him his name, when I heard someone behind me call out, “Hey there.”
I turned to see a girl who looked a bit older than me, maybe sixteen, striding toward us. With her words, the boy darted away quickly and disappeared into the crowd. She huffed as she spied where the boy had run and then she looked at me. She took a moment, as if deciding what she wanted to do, and then walked straight to me.
“Hi,” the girl said. She was pretty. Her skin was a dark amber, and her jet black hair was braided in an intricate pattern. She wore a silky green sleeveless top that had a v-neck, allowing me to see she the thin gold necklace dangling from her neck with an ugly speckled stone the size of a grape as its centerpiece. My eyes then traveled to her right arm, where there was a tattoo. It was some sort of strange symbol I didn’t recognize. There was a snakelike gold bangle that started a
t her wrist and curved around her lower arm, wrapping around and around until it reached her elbow. She wore pants of the same silky fabric that hung neatly on her. Closed-toed shoes that were thick and black, almost like boots, but not quite, covered her feet.
I didn’t respond to her greeting. I was still trying to assess who she was and what she wanted.
“I saw what you did for him,” she said. “That was nice.”
I nodded but didn’t speak. The boy had run from her, which made it clear he didn’t trust her. She didn’t look dangerous. Yes, the tattoo could have been a sign that she was a bandit or a pirate who’d come too far inland. But she didn’t strike me as either. She had an air of confidence and belonging about her.
“Are you two related?” she asked.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She grinned, and it was somewhat charming. “No-nonsense lady. I like that. My name is Akilah,” she said, and she bowed slightly. “I’m in your debt.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Why?”
She made a clicking sound with her tongue, as if to say, trust me, kid, and then she spoke. “Because you helped Nigel and he accepted it. I’ve been trying to get him to accept my help for a couple of weeks now, but he keeps taking off.”
“Why do you want to help him?”
“Because he’s special,” she said.
That wasn’t much of an answer. “Special how?”
She looked into the distance, where the boy had gone. “I’m not sure I can explain it, but he is. And I know of a place where he can be safe and not hungry. It’s just that he doesn’t trust easily.”
“Why should he?”
She raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, touché. “You’re right. He shouldn’t trust too easily,” she admitted. “But he’s alone in this world, and everyone needs somebody. It looks like that somebody was you, today. Are you simply a kind stranger, or are you and Nigel related? A sister maybe?”
I shook my head. “I just met him. He’d stolen, and he’d been caught.”
She put her hand to her chin for a second. “Right,” she said. “I saw that.”
I stared at her. “So what do you do — stand around watching him?”
Akilah laughed, and it was one of pure merriment. “No,” she said. “I’m here for completely different reasons today. I need to help someone else. Two women.”
I looked down at the ground as a wave of apprehension hit me. Two women. That could be anybody, but something about it felt like it was directed at me. “So, you go around helping people?”
I looked up in time to see her nod. “Sort of,” she said. “I try to help people who are special and need help. You don’t happen to have seen the women I’m looking for?”
I shrugged. “What do they look like?”
She laughed. “I’m not exactly sure,” she said. “That’s why I’m having the darndest time. Actually the older woman has dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin, pretty.”
I stared. “That could be anybody.”
“Yeah, umm, I know. Also why I’m having a hard time. I’m not sure what the girl looks like. She was little when she was last seen. I just know they’re in trouble, and they live around here. It’s a woman in her late thirties and a girl of fourteen. So the girl would probably be a couple of years older than you. The woman’s name is Talitha, and the girl is named Kadirah, but the girl may be called just Dirah.”
I tried not to show the fear welling inside me. Instead I shook my head nonchalantly. “I don’t know any such people, and I’m just passing through with my parents.”
Akilah nodded. She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a small stone. She held it out to me. I looked at it but made no move to touch it.
“It won’t hurt you,” she said. “It’s a helping stone. If you hold it and say my name, I’ll come help you.”
I must have looked as skeptical as I felt because she said, “I’m serious. Just say my name while you hold the stone, and I’ll find you if you need help. Or give it to Nigel if you see him again. I’m here to help.”
I was still doubtful, and my expression showed it. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you helped Nigel,” she said. “And because you lie poorly. I know you’re not here with your parents. You’re alone, and you need help. Anyone can see that. I can help you, too, if you let me.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I thought you only helped special people.”
She didn’t look at all offended. Instead, she looked me in the eye, sure and steady and said, “All people are special.”
I was surprised by her words, even though they were true. I took the stone and slipped it in my tunic.
She smiled brightly. Then she turned and looked in the opposite direction, her back to me as she spoke and searched the crowd. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to stay with you much longer. The women I’m looking for have to be found. I’ve spent too long distracted and my master would be quite upset to know that I’ve gotten sidetracked.”
Her master. I didn’t particularly like the sound of that. I took a step back into the shadows. I didn’t want to be with anyone who had a master. I felt an urge to hide again, to run as I had with Auntie for so many years. She turned back to me, as if she were going to say something else, but then she froze. She looked into the shadow where I was standing, then looked in the immediate vicinity, and finally turned a full circle. She frowned and muttered, “Where did she go?”
Then she turned on her heel and walked away. I stayed in the shadow a few minutes more, wondering why she hadn’t seen me. The shadow wasn’t that dark. She should have seen me. It was strange. But I didn’t have time to figure it out. I waited a few minutes to make sure she was gone, and then walked out of the market. I felt a pull toward my aunt. It was strange and magical, and I knew I should heed it.
Chapter 4 - Master
Akilah had spent the entire morning searching for the women. She hadn’t had much luck. The only useful thing she’d done was talk to the girl. That girl was special. She’d helped Nigel, even though he hadn’t needed it.
His power was mind control. He could’ve convinced that merchant to spare him, but the girl had stepped in. And Nigel had allowed it. He was a loner, and that had scared them all. Mages of light needed companions. Otherwise they could turn inward and let the darkness overcome them. She knew that all too well from personal experience.
Nigel was young, so his powers were still developing, and she’d been trying to convince him to return to the temple for months. She’d told the girl weeks because otherwise she would have seemed like a stalker. And she wanted the girl to trust her. If Nigel trusted the girl, and the girl trusted Akilah, perhaps Nigel would trust Akilah.
It seemed worth a shot, as Nigel had balked at all offers of help. Except from that girl.
But she needed to get that girl off of her mind. She was supposed to be finding the women. Pylum said they were the priority. She understood they were important, but she didn’t understand how they could be in Halcyon. Mages could sense the power of other mages. She’d sensed Nigel, and had been in that market several times in the past few months and had sensed no one else of power or consequence.
However, she couldn’t argue with Pylum. He was her master, her mentor, her mashul. He had sent her to look for the women. He was wise and powerful. Despite his tiny stature, he was the most powerful mage at the temple. It was late in the day now, so she ported from the market back to the Temple of Light. She’d been living here for five years, since she was ten years old, and it was the one place — the only place — she’d ever felt at home.
She didn’t remember much about her parents. Just bits and pieces. Even if she had remembered everything about them, it wouldn’t have mattered. She remembered the most important thing: they had abandoned her. They had left her on her own, like Nigel was. Pylum had searched the Seas of Time for answers for her, but he said he’d found nothing in her past for her. The only thing he’d been able t
o see was that she was important in the future. She would help end the reign of the dark mage, Zygam.
She wondered briefly why mages even had the ability to see into the future through the Seas of Time if it was always going to be dark, murky, and basically unintelligible.
Akilah knocked on the ornately carved door to Pylum’s office. “Enter,” he called, so she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The ceilings were at least twenty feet high, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were set against the walls. The office itself wasn’t that large, but directly across from the door sat a desk filled with strange objects. Gemstones, little mechanical devices that shimmied or teetered, a crystal ball, and stacks of papers and books.
It appeared the room was empty, but Pylum had told her to enter, so she knew he was there. A moment later, the dwarf, his head bald and his arms covered in glyphs, emerged from behind the desk. “From the look on your face, I take it you didn’t find them.”
Akilah shook her head. “No, Master Pylum,” she said, bowing, and wondering why he’d chosen an office that clearly illustrated to anyone who entered just how small he was.
“Are you certain?” he asked. “I had a vision last night. I am positive it was Talitha begging my help. She said the central market. She said he’d found them through bread. She said they needed help.”
Akilah rose and said, “Master Pylum, I searched the market. There was a bakery that was closed. I checked behind it. I performed a spell seeking magic in the air. I found nothing. It was, frankly, odd. It was as if someone had wiped all the magic residue away.”
Pylum nodded and sighed. He motioned to a chair near his desk, and she sat. Pylum leaned against the desk, his hand stroking his long goatee. “Talitha has hidden the girl through binding magic. It prevents the girl from using magic, even though she is full of it. Without access to her power, she cannot be tracked.”