Trudi Canavan - The Rogue

Dannyl released her hand, instructed the slave to move the carriage to an appropriate place out of the way of traffic to wait for them, then started toward the market entrance. The other slave leapt off the carriage to follow them.

Two guards watched the entrance, both eyeing Dannyl and Merria without expression.

They must be free servants , Dannyl thought. Like those at the palace.

Once through the archway he and Merria entered a market laid out in straight rows. The stalls on the outside, built against the walls, were permanent structures. The centre space was filled with neat lines of temporary carts and tables, most covered with a roof of cloth. He started along the first row.

Merria continued to be more interesting to the locals than Dannyl. Most likely they had never seen a Kyralian woman before, whereas Kyralian males were merely rare. He found that he was in the opposite position to Merria. He’d rarely seen Sachakan women before this. No women worked in the stalls, but plenty roamed the market, each with a male chaperone. They wore highly decorated capes that fell from their shoulders to their ankles.

He did not want to raise the ire of the locals by staring at their women, so he turned his attention to the wares on offer. Perfume, elaborate glassware, artistic pottery and fine cloth surrounded them. They had obviously entered at the luxury end of the market. Thinking back, he realised he hadn’t seen anyone carrying vegetables or herding animals out of the archway. When they reached the end of one aisle, he squinted down the rows ahead. Sure enough, there were more practical goods on sale at the far end. Perhaps there was another entrance catering for that sort of produce.

They started down another aisle, stopping to look at goods from lands across the Aduna Sea. Merria was particularly impressed with the glassware. In the third aisle they were both instantly drawn to a stall covered in a glittering array of gemstones in all colours. But while Merria gazed at the stones, what had caught Dannyl’s eye were the stallholders, as he instantly recognised the dusty grey skin and long limbs of Duna tribesmen.

At once he remembered the Duna tracker, Unh, who had helped him, Achati and the Ashaki helpers to search for Lorkin. He also recalled the cave he and Unh had discovered in the mountains, its walls covered in crystals. Dannyl had learned that the tribesmen knew how to turn such crystals into magical gemstones. He eyed the glittering stones before him thoughtfully.

Surely they wouldn’t sell the magical ones here. He looked closer. The abundance on display and the roughness of their cutting suggested that these weren’t of much value beyond ordinary trinkets.

“You like?” a tribesman said, leaning toward Merria and smiling broadly.

She nodded. “They’re pretty. How much are––?”

“Do you have any finer gems?” Dannyl interrupted. “Or ones set into jewellery, or other objects?”

The man gave Dannyl a piercingly direct look, then shook his head. “People here not like our way of setting.”

Dannyl smiled. “We are not from here.”

The man grinned. “No, you are not.” He looked from Merria to Dannyl, then beckoned. “Come inside.”

They moved around the table and entered the shade under the roof covering. Watched by his frowning companion, the tribesman opened a dusty old bag and drew out two large bands. He lifted them up so Dannyl and Merria could see. They were made of some sort of unpolished, darkened metal, lined with leather. Gemstones glittered within crude settings. Small metal tags hung from holes around one edge of each band.

“They go here.” The man pointed to a place just above the knee. “And more here and one here.” He touched his skin above the elbow and then the cloth wrapped about his hips. “For ceremony we rub,” he mimicked a circular motion, “so they shine. But let go dark other times so not so …” He waved at his face, widening his eyes. Dazzling , Dannyl translated.

“That must look wonderful,” Merria said.

The man grinned and nodded at her. “We dance. If we dance well women choose us.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman married a man for jewellery,” Merria remarked, glancing at Dannyl. “What do women wear?” she asked the man.

The tribesman shook his head. “Just belt. Very plain. Over cloth …” He gestured in a sweeping motion from neck to knee.

Merria looked disappointed. “No jewellery? No gems?”

“Gems on belt.”

“I’d love to see one of these ceremonies.” Merria sighed wistfully. “Is this expensive?” She nodded to the leg bands.

“This one not for sale. But we bring one that is next time? Maybe belt, too.”

“I’d like that.” She glanced back at the table of gems. “So … how much are they?”

They returned to the table and a bit of haggling followed. Dannyl suspected that the tribesman let her beat him down to a lower price than he would usually accept. As the transaction finished, Dannyl decided that he could not leave without asking after the tracker.

“Do you know Unh?” he asked. “He works as a tracker.”

The man’s grin vanished, then returned looking unconvincing and forced.

“No.” He glanced back at the other tribesman, who was now scowling. The man shook his head. “No.”

Dannyl nodded and shrugged, then thanked them for showing Merria the bands. The pair replied with fixed smiles. Dannyl led Merria away.

“Who is Unh?” she asked, when they were out of earshot.

“The tracker who helped us search for Lorkin.”

“Ah.” She glanced back. “Is it only me that got the impression they do know him, but don’t like him very much.”

“Not just you.”

“How interesting,” she murmured. “I hope this doesn’t mean they won’t bring some of those bands for me.”

They turned a corner and started down the next row. Dannyl looked up and came to a halt as he saw what lay before them.

Stalls filled with books, scrolls and writing implements lined each side of the aisle. He looked from side to side, his eyes drawn to piles of promising old tomes. Suddenly he knew why there had been a slight hint of smugness in Tayend’s tone when suggesting a market visit.

It wasn’t just that he’d suggested something I hadn’t thought of. He knew I’d find this. He’s probably been here already, what with his fondness for silly or exotic trinkets, and he probably guessed that I hadn’t. He felt a pang of fondness for his former lover, but it was followed by a mix of guilt and annoyance that was growing familiar since Tayend had arrived in Arvice. I’m going to have to thank him for this. I wish the prospect didn’t fill me with doubt and dread.

“I may take some time here,” he told Merria apologetically.

She smiled. “I thought you might. It’s fine. Anything you want me to look for?”

As Lorkin paused in his work, he noted that more than half of the beds in the Care Room were occupied, though most of the patients would probably leave once they’d seen Kalia. Nearly every person had the same or similar illness. Even in isolated, remote Sanctuary, people came down with sniffles and coughs each winter. They called it “chill fever”.

The treatment was so trusted and familiar that few questions were asked. Kalia’s examination of those claiming to have the illness was perfunctory, and she rarely needed to explain the cures she handed out.

This was Kalia’s area of expertise. Lorkin was given the task of looking after anyone who came in with other injuries or illness. No sufferer of chill fever ever approached him. If Kalia was occupied, they settled onto a bed and watched her patiently, only occasionally glancing at him in curiosity.