To Anjanette, being in the auction house was like being a dinosaur in a city. She was surrounded by people who were all staring at her as though her existance was some sort of faux pas. She was dressed up in furs that covered almost her entire body, still one of Golden Street’s most wanted. The shock of red hair poking out from under her cap and the large sword strapped to her back were a bit of an attention-getter.
Leonas and Milly fit in little better. Although it was theoretically an open auction, it was populated almost exclusively by nobles and rich business people.
“The chair I’m sitting on probably costs more than my parents’ house does,” muttered Leonas as they waited for the auction to start.
The auction began, a ritualized and dull affair. They moved up from cheap but curious trinkets into jewellery and works of art. Obscene amounts of money were being thrown about, with one statue going for 225 gold crowns.
“Um, Leonas?” asked Milly in a whisper. “How are we going to afford this?”
“We can’t,” he said casually. “I’ll make the winning bid, go up on stage, and cast a smoke spell. Then we run like the devil himself was at our backs.
“Are you sure that’ll work? I mean, they have pretty good security.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try.”
Milly sat there, nervously playing with the hem of her robe. Finally, the proprieter got to the shard. “An Ancient text of unknown origin, in fine condition, being sold from the de Catalan’s estate,” announced a bored-looking auctioneer. “Bidding shall begin at one gold crown.”
“Four crowns,” bid a fat man dressed in the indulgences of nobility.
“Ten crowns,” bid Leonas, drawing a murmur fron the crowd. He sat back down, face unreadable.
A tall, aristocratic man stood up from the crowd. “Fifteen gold crowns.” Milly gasped. It was Valgard. She shrunk into a ball.
“Twenty,” Leonas bid, gritting his teeth.
“Thirty,” said Valgard with a nonchalant shrug.
“Forty,” said Leonas. They had probably now passed the street value of it as an antique.
“Fifty gold crowns,” bid Valgard. The auctioneer grinned, these sorts of squabbles were what made auctions so profitable. That sculpture from earlier might have fetched twenty crowns in a pawn shop, but the sculptor happened to be the favourite of two of the bidders.
It was at that point that the guards bust in.
They surrounded Leonas, Milly and Anjanette in a moment, spears pointing at them like a mouth of sharp metallic fangs. “You three are under arrest for multiple counts of fraud. For your protection you should remain silent and compliant, as any actions or words you take now will be—“ Anjanette had already broken her chair over the head of the speaker. He fell with a dull thump.
There was a brief half-second before the fight broke out, which seemed to stretch into eternity. The guards gaped. The nobles and merchants gasped in shock and muttered in scandalous tones, those near the fracas fleeing as well as they could in high heels and suits. Anjanette drew the oversized sword from her back, metal angrily shrieking as it scraped metal. Milly silently and efficient struck a fighting pose, producing from her sleeves a hooked knife for each hand. Leonas bolted up and looked for any sort of exit. Valgard just sat back and waited for the curtains to rise.
Anjanette moved first. She tossed her broadsword carelessly at the nearest guard (it was only good as a bluff, the huge thing was hollow) and then laid into another with a roundhouse kick. The stiff kick hit his jaw with a resounding oomph, and he sunk to the floor like a deflated baloon. Then the storm broke.
Milly’s blades flashed as she attacked the nearest guard, avoiding his clumsy thrusts. Her blades neatly sliced the guard’s armour at the seams, until the breastplate fell apart like a beetle’s shell. Another quick stab to the gut downed him with a wet gurgle. She moved on to the next guard. Her awkward movements were gone, her body moving with an inhuman grace.
Anjanette swung her fists and feet around seemingly wildly, but seemed to hit more often then not. The guards surrounded her, drawing swords to fight in close. One blade struck her in the shoulder, tearing flesh with a sickening scrape. Anjanette’s shoudler was on fire, blowing crimson smoke, but she ignored the pain and hit the offending guard with a haymaker and he crumpeld immediately.
Leonas was not a fighter by professsion, but the guards were still having a hard time with him. They swung with their swords, but somehow none of them so much as scratched the scammer. For his part, Leonas once tried an incantation, but while pausing to make the hand motions the broad side of a spear caught him in the chest. He fell onto his back, air rushing out of his lungs like a panicked mob, head spinning. Another spear very nearly pinned him to the ground, but Leonas managed to roll out of the way. Still, he made a note not to try that again.
The crowd of nobles watched with an increased fervour. They roared when one of the guards landed a hit, and jeered when one went down. They seemed to be doing a lot more jeering. The remaining guards regrouped, looking at their downed fellows. The trio, keeping an eye to them, starting to hustle towards the exit.
A huge gold blur barelled out of nowhere, impacting into Leonas and driving him back. He felt his bones jostling with vibrations, and then he was tackled into a bank of chairs, which collapsed in around him. He hit his head somewhere on the way down and everything went black.
The girls spun over to see what happened. Standing triumphantly over Leonas was a man three times his girth and probably twice his weight. The mammoth warrior was wearing gold and silver armour with an ornate crest lovingly carved into the back
Another gold-plated warrior, this one much more lightly armoured and no more than five feet tall, sprung at Anjanette. Anjanette threw a flawless right hand, but somehow the small warrior caught her hand and used it as a base to spring around, kicking Anjanette in the back of the head. She slumped over, and was soon caught up in a hurricane of blows by the strange man.
Milly turned to the two, but found that she had her own opponent. A tall swordsman, clad entirely in golden mail, stared down at her, longsword in hand. She nodded and store him down – at least as well as she could. Both watched each other for any sign of movement, waiting for someone to make the first mistake.
And then something caught Milly on the back of her head, and down she went.
Valgard stood above the fallen body of Milly, blunt end of his sword extended. Everyone stared. “The House of Alleria is always willing to aid in enforcing justice,” he said, the golden warriors bowing behind him. “Now take them away.
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Showing posts with label chapter 5. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chapter 5. Show all posts
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Chapter 5-4
The outdoor cafe was trendy and energetic, young people chittering in pseudo-intellectual banter, mostly those who had just come from the University. Exotic multi-coloured flowers bloomed around the tables. A thousand fragrant scents wafted through the street. Milly felt strangely both out of place and in her element at the same time: the people here were the intellectuals, those she could discuss things with, but she still didn’t have the courage to greet any of them.
Across the table from her, Valgard leisurely read through the volume of [i]Shamich[/i], sipping his tea. Milly’s tea sat nearly untouhced. The one gulp she had taken had burned her tongue.
“Fascinating,” said Valgard, before closing the book with the care of a collector. “I must thank you for allowing me to read this small part.”
Milly blushed. “You don’t have to thank me... I mean, you paid for it. You can keep reading if you want.”
“Ah, I fear I have infringed upon too much of your time already,” he said, beginning to get up.
“Wait!” Milly said. “Um... stay and talk for a while. You’re not bothering me at all.”
Valgard checked his watch, a fancy mechanism dangling from an exquisite gold chain. “Well, I suppose I may be able to spare some time.” He sat back down, and Milly breathed a sigh of relief. “So what brings you to Nariev, besides books?”
She found herself telling the whole tale of finding Anjanette and Leonas, their journey so far, and all of her opinions on it. He coaxed the words out of her, never speaking of himself. Eventually she finished the story, trailing off into a mumbled question about what had brought him here.
“Well, it’s quite the story, but I really must be going,” he said, checking his golden watch again. “It was nice meeting you, Millicent.”
“Milly,” she said. “Only my grandma calls me Millicent.”
“Well then Milly, I really must be going, but I hope that our paths interesect again one day,” said Valgard, bowing to her before sweeping out of the room.
“What... just happened?” she wondered.
* * *
They met back at their inn room. Anjanette had carried a tower of clothes in her arms, mentioning that have the shops in the city were looking for her now. Milly and Leonas looked none the worse for wear physically, but emotionally was a different story.
“I didn’t find out much about the sword, but I did meet this amazing guy...” Milly trailed off.
“Funny enough, so did I,” muttered Leonas, before snapping back to his usual volume and posture.
Anjanette sat on her bed, laying on crossed arms while staring at them eagerly. “Oooh, details!”
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” both of them said, nearly in unison.
Anjanette pouted. “Fine. What about the books? I was too busy running from shopkeepers to dig up any decent info.”
Leonas produced a ruffled flier from his pockets, laying it out before the girls. It was an advertisement for an auction, to be held in two days time, with the prize piece being a classic origin-century painting.
“What are we looking at this for?” asked Anjanette.
“Three down,” said Leonas. There, advertised as simply a “mysterious ancient text” was a tome that matched exactly the one they had on them.
“You think this is it?” asked Anjanette.
“I think it’s a pretty good bet, “ said Leonas.
“Well then, it’s time for some more shopping,” said Anjanette.
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Across the table from her, Valgard leisurely read through the volume of [i]Shamich[/i], sipping his tea. Milly’s tea sat nearly untouhced. The one gulp she had taken had burned her tongue.
“Fascinating,” said Valgard, before closing the book with the care of a collector. “I must thank you for allowing me to read this small part.”
Milly blushed. “You don’t have to thank me... I mean, you paid for it. You can keep reading if you want.”
“Ah, I fear I have infringed upon too much of your time already,” he said, beginning to get up.
“Wait!” Milly said. “Um... stay and talk for a while. You’re not bothering me at all.”
Valgard checked his watch, a fancy mechanism dangling from an exquisite gold chain. “Well, I suppose I may be able to spare some time.” He sat back down, and Milly breathed a sigh of relief. “So what brings you to Nariev, besides books?”
She found herself telling the whole tale of finding Anjanette and Leonas, their journey so far, and all of her opinions on it. He coaxed the words out of her, never speaking of himself. Eventually she finished the story, trailing off into a mumbled question about what had brought him here.
“Well, it’s quite the story, but I really must be going,” he said, checking his golden watch again. “It was nice meeting you, Millicent.”
“Milly,” she said. “Only my grandma calls me Millicent.”
“Well then Milly, I really must be going, but I hope that our paths interesect again one day,” said Valgard, bowing to her before sweeping out of the room.
“What... just happened?” she wondered.
* * *
They met back at their inn room. Anjanette had carried a tower of clothes in her arms, mentioning that have the shops in the city were looking for her now. Milly and Leonas looked none the worse for wear physically, but emotionally was a different story.
“I didn’t find out much about the sword, but I did meet this amazing guy...” Milly trailed off.
“Funny enough, so did I,” muttered Leonas, before snapping back to his usual volume and posture.
Anjanette sat on her bed, laying on crossed arms while staring at them eagerly. “Oooh, details!”
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” both of them said, nearly in unison.
Anjanette pouted. “Fine. What about the books? I was too busy running from shopkeepers to dig up any decent info.”
Leonas produced a ruffled flier from his pockets, laying it out before the girls. It was an advertisement for an auction, to be held in two days time, with the prize piece being a classic origin-century painting.
“What are we looking at this for?” asked Anjanette.
“Three down,” said Leonas. There, advertised as simply a “mysterious ancient text” was a tome that matched exactly the one they had on them.
“You think this is it?” asked Anjanette.
“I think it’s a pretty good bet, “ said Leonas.
“Well then, it’s time for some more shopping,” said Anjanette.
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Saturday, June 21, 2008
Chapter 5-3
The apartment buildings of north side Nariev stretched up on rickety foundations, floors haphazardly and unevenly built atop each other. From a distance, they looked like broken fingers poking into the sky. Up close, they looked like they might collapse at any moment.
“And he lives here,” muttered Leonas. He checked the songbird message again, and confirmed the address. He shrugged and began climbing the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor. Leonas wasn’t out of shape, but he was panting by the time he reached the end and knocked on door 709.
The man who answered it was thin and willowy, with long brown hair and soft features that had made the other kids tease him about looking like a girl. His clothes probably cost more than his apartment. The man blinked and then smiled. “Leonas! Good to see you.”
Leonas smiled. “Good to see you too, Pericen. How goes it?”
“It doesn’t completely suck,” he said with a grin, motioning to let Leonas in. His apartment was sparsely decorated, but there were two chairs that they sat down on. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in the way of refreshments.”
“Ah, so you’re the classical starving artist, are you?”
“I’ll have you know I am neither starving nor an artist,” said Pericen with a sense of pride. “If you saw any of my plays, you’d understand.”
Leonas chuckled. “Still turning out... oh what was the word... ‘commercial crap to make a buck?’”
“People tell me it’s not so, but no truly great artist would be able to afford an apartment in Nariev,” said Pericen.
A tall man emerged from what must have been a bedroom. His black hair was unkempt, stubble cropped up sporatically on his face, and his clothes, while indiviudally fashionable, were worn in a random patchwork. The man yawned before casually walking up to Pericen and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Who’s this, Per?”
“Old friend, from back in Haversham,” chirped Pericen. “In town on some sort of quest. Blake, this is Leonas, who once had to act out my crappy adolescent plays. Leonas, this is Blake, my better half.”
Leonas felt a pang of jealousy that caught him off guard. “Nice to meet you.” He offered a hand, which Blake shook entirely too vigorously.
“So, last I heard you were going to study magic,” said Pericen. “What happened with that?”
“I graduated. You’re talking to a fully-certified first-circle mage,” said Leonas without any particular pride. “I didn’t like any of my options from there though, so I went back to lying for a living.”
“Acting? If you’re looking for work, I know many people who are looking for—“
“No, the much more profitable profession of a conman,” said Leonas.
Pericen laughed, before he realized that Leonas was serious. “Well, that’s one way to make a buck. So what brings you to this hole in the wall?”
“Anjanette somehow convinced me to go on this quest for a bunch of old books or something,” said Leonas. “Not really my thing, but there’s a lot of money in it, so I went along with it.”
Leonas fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. This had been a bad idea. He and Pericen were lovers, back in those awkward adolescent days. He couldn’t see why he had been so attracted to him now, other than the self-righteous passion of first love and the thrill of what had been taboo. He was gratingly modest, ineffectual and far too wrapped up in his art. And yet the presence of Blake had sent him into a spiral of longing that he had been sure he had matured out of.
“You’re working with Anjanette? How is she?”
“About the same as she ever is,” said Leonas.
Pericen grinned, nostalgia in his eyes. “Still the baby of the group? Still doesn’t know it?”
“More or less, but we seem to have picked up a new baby, so that may change,” replied Leonas. He felt hemmed in, Blake’s silent observation making him feel on display. “Anyway, I would love to stay, but I have to look for this book. It was nice seeing you again.”
“The same here,” said Pericen. “If you’re in town on this Nonidi, you should come see my play, ‘Two Knights Short of a Roundtable’. I’ve been told it’s not terrible, and it would line an old friend’s pockets.”
“I will consider it,” said Leonas, before hurrying out of the apartment.
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“And he lives here,” muttered Leonas. He checked the songbird message again, and confirmed the address. He shrugged and began climbing the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor. Leonas wasn’t out of shape, but he was panting by the time he reached the end and knocked on door 709.
The man who answered it was thin and willowy, with long brown hair and soft features that had made the other kids tease him about looking like a girl. His clothes probably cost more than his apartment. The man blinked and then smiled. “Leonas! Good to see you.”
Leonas smiled. “Good to see you too, Pericen. How goes it?”
“It doesn’t completely suck,” he said with a grin, motioning to let Leonas in. His apartment was sparsely decorated, but there were two chairs that they sat down on. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you in the way of refreshments.”
“Ah, so you’re the classical starving artist, are you?”
“I’ll have you know I am neither starving nor an artist,” said Pericen with a sense of pride. “If you saw any of my plays, you’d understand.”
Leonas chuckled. “Still turning out... oh what was the word... ‘commercial crap to make a buck?’”
“People tell me it’s not so, but no truly great artist would be able to afford an apartment in Nariev,” said Pericen.
A tall man emerged from what must have been a bedroom. His black hair was unkempt, stubble cropped up sporatically on his face, and his clothes, while indiviudally fashionable, were worn in a random patchwork. The man yawned before casually walking up to Pericen and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Who’s this, Per?”
“Old friend, from back in Haversham,” chirped Pericen. “In town on some sort of quest. Blake, this is Leonas, who once had to act out my crappy adolescent plays. Leonas, this is Blake, my better half.”
Leonas felt a pang of jealousy that caught him off guard. “Nice to meet you.” He offered a hand, which Blake shook entirely too vigorously.
“So, last I heard you were going to study magic,” said Pericen. “What happened with that?”
“I graduated. You’re talking to a fully-certified first-circle mage,” said Leonas without any particular pride. “I didn’t like any of my options from there though, so I went back to lying for a living.”
“Acting? If you’re looking for work, I know many people who are looking for—“
“No, the much more profitable profession of a conman,” said Leonas.
Pericen laughed, before he realized that Leonas was serious. “Well, that’s one way to make a buck. So what brings you to this hole in the wall?”
“Anjanette somehow convinced me to go on this quest for a bunch of old books or something,” said Leonas. “Not really my thing, but there’s a lot of money in it, so I went along with it.”
Leonas fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. This had been a bad idea. He and Pericen were lovers, back in those awkward adolescent days. He couldn’t see why he had been so attracted to him now, other than the self-righteous passion of first love and the thrill of what had been taboo. He was gratingly modest, ineffectual and far too wrapped up in his art. And yet the presence of Blake had sent him into a spiral of longing that he had been sure he had matured out of.
“You’re working with Anjanette? How is she?”
“About the same as she ever is,” said Leonas.
Pericen grinned, nostalgia in his eyes. “Still the baby of the group? Still doesn’t know it?”
“More or less, but we seem to have picked up a new baby, so that may change,” replied Leonas. He felt hemmed in, Blake’s silent observation making him feel on display. “Anyway, I would love to stay, but I have to look for this book. It was nice seeing you again.”
“The same here,” said Pericen. “If you’re in town on this Nonidi, you should come see my play, ‘Two Knights Short of a Roundtable’. I’ve been told it’s not terrible, and it would line an old friend’s pockets.”
“I will consider it,” said Leonas, before hurrying out of the apartment.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Chapter 5-2
Milly was in her own personal heaven. [i]Ex Libris[/i] was a gigantic bookstore in the market district which seemed to stretch on for miles. Lining each shelf, in between the usual mass-duplicated novels, were rare and obscure tomes. They were all expensive, but all so lucrative and seductive. She halfway considered sliding a few books up her sleeves.
Out of her corner of her eye she caught a long shelf full of purple bookedges. “Is that...” she wondered aloud, before walking over to confirm that it was. The entire 28-volume epic [i]Tale of Shamich[/i]. The traditional ballad, told in a thousand different versions by various ministrels over the years, but this was the original, penned by a bored monk centuries ago. Many households had one or two volumes, but an entire collection was considered an impossibility. She had collected as many as she could, but still only had ten or eleven.
She saw the earliest volume she didn’t have, number three. Milly reached for it, but found her hand blocked by another – this one soft and manicured, but with a strong masculinity to it.
“Sorry, milady,” said the man, stepping back. “You saw the book first, I believe.”
“Um, no problem,” said Milly. The man was handsome in an old, aristocratic way, with gentle feminine features and long blonde hair. His body was burly and muscular beneath an immaculately smooth dress shirt. It looked awkward on him. Her face flush, Milly felt the urge to say something else. “I w-was just surprised to see that they had the whole series here. I mean, I’ve always loved these, but it was so hard to find most of them, and now there’s a complete set just sitting here...” She trailed off, realizing that she was babbling about books again.
The man smiled. “It is good to see a young person who appreciates the classics. So many are turned off by the ornate language, but I think it is rather beautiful myself.”
“Of course!” Milly agreed. “Um, you hear the modern adaptations by ministrels and it just, like, sounds wrong. Uh, not that I don’t like some modern books as well...”
“I find little of it is worth my time,” the man said with a shrug. He picked up the third volume again. “What is your name, young lady?”
Milly blushed. Nobody under the age of sixty called anyone “young lady” nowadays, but she found it strangely flattering. “M-milly,” she said out.
“Well Milly, I am Valgard, and I shall make you a deal,” he said with a bow. The name tickled at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t put a finger on where she had heard it before. “I shall buy this for you, on the condition that you allow me to read the first chapter. The second one ended with a dreadful cliffhanger, and I simply must know how it was resovled.”
“Um, uh, sure!” Milly said, then winced.
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Out of her corner of her eye she caught a long shelf full of purple bookedges. “Is that...” she wondered aloud, before walking over to confirm that it was. The entire 28-volume epic [i]Tale of Shamich[/i]. The traditional ballad, told in a thousand different versions by various ministrels over the years, but this was the original, penned by a bored monk centuries ago. Many households had one or two volumes, but an entire collection was considered an impossibility. She had collected as many as she could, but still only had ten or eleven.
She saw the earliest volume she didn’t have, number three. Milly reached for it, but found her hand blocked by another – this one soft and manicured, but with a strong masculinity to it.
“Sorry, milady,” said the man, stepping back. “You saw the book first, I believe.”
“Um, no problem,” said Milly. The man was handsome in an old, aristocratic way, with gentle feminine features and long blonde hair. His body was burly and muscular beneath an immaculately smooth dress shirt. It looked awkward on him. Her face flush, Milly felt the urge to say something else. “I w-was just surprised to see that they had the whole series here. I mean, I’ve always loved these, but it was so hard to find most of them, and now there’s a complete set just sitting here...” She trailed off, realizing that she was babbling about books again.
The man smiled. “It is good to see a young person who appreciates the classics. So many are turned off by the ornate language, but I think it is rather beautiful myself.”
“Of course!” Milly agreed. “Um, you hear the modern adaptations by ministrels and it just, like, sounds wrong. Uh, not that I don’t like some modern books as well...”
“I find little of it is worth my time,” the man said with a shrug. He picked up the third volume again. “What is your name, young lady?”
Milly blushed. Nobody under the age of sixty called anyone “young lady” nowadays, but she found it strangely flattering. “M-milly,” she said out.
“Well Milly, I am Valgard, and I shall make you a deal,” he said with a bow. The name tickled at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t put a finger on where she had heard it before. “I shall buy this for you, on the condition that you allow me to read the first chapter. The second one ended with a dreadful cliffhanger, and I simply must know how it was resovled.”
“Um, uh, sure!” Milly said, then winced.
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Saturday, June 14, 2008
Chapter 5-1
Nareiv was not the capital of the A. O. K. – that honour belonged to a sedate town by the name of Ironbridge, where the serious business of governing was done. But Nareiv was the heart of the Alliance, and on a grand scale the heart of society. Bustling with daytime business and nightlife, the metropolis beat with the heart of the masses that crowded into its every metre.
“Sweet mother...” Milly muttered as she stared down at the city from atop the hilltop road. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see, an endless expanse of brick and iron. The streets were packed like a slaugherhouse. The sounds of a thousand conversations and hawking shopkeepers was already audible, their dull roar that of a hornet’s nest.
“It is pretty damn big,” said Anjanette.
“Meh,” said Leonas. “Too crowded for my tastes.”
“You been here before?” asked Anjanette.
“No,” said Leonas.
She laughed. “Then enjoy it. If you can’t be a slack-jawed yokel on your first trip to Nariev, where can you?”
Leonas shrugged. “You’re probably right. But remember, we’re here on business. We need to find that shard. So don’t spend money frivulously, no matter how much you want to try the latest fashions.”
“You never let me have any fun,” said Anjanette in jest.
“Just don’t get mugged and I’ll be pleasantly surprised with both of you,” he sighed. “Now, let’s find a place to stay and then hit the shopping districts. We’re just looking for the shard, remember.”
Their horses continued trotting along the crowded road. The line for entry looked to be at least a mile long. “Um, Leonas, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Milly. “I thought you were against the whole quest thing, but now you’re really serious about it.”
“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it right,” said Leonas.
“I hate to say it, but Milly’s right,” said Anjanette. “Stop being such an asshole and let us have some fun. We might never be back here again.
Leonas sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Alright girls, go wild.”
“Yay!” Anjanette said, already scheming up a shopping list.
* * *
A chaotic mob filled Golden Street, everyone going in different directions and in a hurry to get there. Street musicians were barely audible over the chatter of the wealthy and the vendors hawking out their prices. The street was like a living fashion show, every outfit stunning. Some were enchanted, patterns subtly shifting as Anjanette stared at them, enchanting like a snake charmer. The people were pretty too, looking like they had just stepped out of one of her soaps.
Anjanette caught more than one person trying to cop a feel or grab her purse in the crowd, but they all earned a stiff roundhouse kick to the head and she moved on.
She stepped into the first store, a brick shop full of exotic dresses and accessories, enraptured by the spell of Golden Street. And then she saw the price tags. A single piece of clothing could go for three or four gold crowns. She had about seven.
Anjanette hoped that her thieving skills weren’t rusty.
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“Sweet mother...” Milly muttered as she stared down at the city from atop the hilltop road. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see, an endless expanse of brick and iron. The streets were packed like a slaugherhouse. The sounds of a thousand conversations and hawking shopkeepers was already audible, their dull roar that of a hornet’s nest.
“It is pretty damn big,” said Anjanette.
“Meh,” said Leonas. “Too crowded for my tastes.”
“You been here before?” asked Anjanette.
“No,” said Leonas.
She laughed. “Then enjoy it. If you can’t be a slack-jawed yokel on your first trip to Nariev, where can you?”
Leonas shrugged. “You’re probably right. But remember, we’re here on business. We need to find that shard. So don’t spend money frivulously, no matter how much you want to try the latest fashions.”
“You never let me have any fun,” said Anjanette in jest.
“Just don’t get mugged and I’ll be pleasantly surprised with both of you,” he sighed. “Now, let’s find a place to stay and then hit the shopping districts. We’re just looking for the shard, remember.”
Their horses continued trotting along the crowded road. The line for entry looked to be at least a mile long. “Um, Leonas, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Milly. “I thought you were against the whole quest thing, but now you’re really serious about it.”
“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it right,” said Leonas.
“I hate to say it, but Milly’s right,” said Anjanette. “Stop being such an asshole and let us have some fun. We might never be back here again.
Leonas sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Alright girls, go wild.”
“Yay!” Anjanette said, already scheming up a shopping list.
* * *
A chaotic mob filled Golden Street, everyone going in different directions and in a hurry to get there. Street musicians were barely audible over the chatter of the wealthy and the vendors hawking out their prices. The street was like a living fashion show, every outfit stunning. Some were enchanted, patterns subtly shifting as Anjanette stared at them, enchanting like a snake charmer. The people were pretty too, looking like they had just stepped out of one of her soaps.
Anjanette caught more than one person trying to cop a feel or grab her purse in the crowd, but they all earned a stiff roundhouse kick to the head and she moved on.
She stepped into the first store, a brick shop full of exotic dresses and accessories, enraptured by the spell of Golden Street. And then she saw the price tags. A single piece of clothing could go for three or four gold crowns. She had about seven.
Anjanette hoped that her thieving skills weren’t rusty.
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