CHAPTER NINETEEN

The air was already losing heat as the sun had disappeared entirely behind the city walls. Its beams bouncing off the clouds kept Blythe visible, but the lantern lighters were hard at work in preparation for the fast approaching night. I didn't notice much of the city this trip, my attention being divided between staying balanced on Flatchert and having a hard time yanking my eyes away from the map Winsor had given me. An Enchanted map, if it hadn't been cast specifically for me, I could sell for a pretty bit of coin. I had never owned anything like it before. Even though it was inked with sauce and a careless rhyme by a bored, disenfranchised youth instead of fine parchment lovingly worked by a cartographer's quill, it was infinitely more valuable.

If I hadn't been staring at it, I would have never noticed how the map was growing slightly as I drew nearer to the destination. I wasn't marked on the map, but I realized that it was determining where the map itself was, and then only showing the distance between that spot and the destination, gradually increasing the details of the buildings, roads, and alleyways that lie as obstacles and shoving off the page any unnecessary information regarding areas outside my current concern. It was mesmerizing.

Yes, it would definitely pay off to make friends with this kid, even if Mallow and I only stayed the time it took to get the shoes and sell the second round of potions. I arrived at the Potionary and saw the nicely engraved sign hanging from brass loops outside the front door. I secured Flatchert.

I pushed open the door. It was heavy. As I closed it behind me, I noticed a triple bolt locking system, the metal glinting dully in the lantern light. The sunlight from the windows was cut by the heavy wooden beams spaced closely together, not quite resembling prison bars due to the designs on them, but definitely impossible to climb through.

"We're about to close, so please make your choice quickly," said a man behind the counter, peeking his head out to nod to me before resuming his duty tallying up the customers before him. I analyzed the wooden room and saw many Assistants, some with ingredients from the small wooden drawers that sat against the lower part of the wall, tidy labels affixed to the exterior. A lot of common ingredients there, the ones used in both potions and cooking, like sugar and saffron. More exotic labels were affixed to drawers. The nearer the counter where the store keeper could keep watch, the more precious the contents of the drawer.

Opening one, I saw dozens of tiny pearls nestled in cushioned velvet. My reflection was distorted by the milky swirls of their shining surfaces. Another I opened had a glass top that kept the contents from flittering away into the room. It took me a second to realize the storm of matter was gold flakes jostled by the drawer moving. They were the kind that crumbled off of illuminated pages or gilded jewelry. The bottom layer was powdered, but maybe that worked well for potion making? I tried the next drawer, this one painted black. It was locked.

"Oh, you need a sorcerer to get into that one." One of the Assistants told me as she gingerly picked up yellow-white slivers of something familiar but that I could not place. "That's spectral other being plasma. You don't want to get any on you and be consumed by madness because you can't cast any counter magic."

"No, of course not." I said, my hands immediately dropping from the latch. I backed up too quickly and bumped into another Assistant, but they graced me with only a huff of annoyance and scooted over. I kept exploring the shop.

On the shelves were potions. Potions. I jammed my hands onto my hips to keep from sweeping all of them off the shelf and running for it. I would be rich forever if only I could guarantee I wouldn't get caught. No one else was phased by them. I took deep breaths in and out in order to calm myself and rein in my impulse to steal the potions. If I stole them and sold them, they would be real potions and it'd be the first real potion I'd ever sold legitimately, and the second time I'd ever stolen. (The first was the single dose healing potion I still had tucked away in my sash). After one particularly deep, cleansing breath, I noticed the shelves had a freshly cut smell to them.

"Are the shelves new?"

"Yes, I had them installed so that the fine customers coming into town for Reglar's Age Day wouldn't be inconvenienced by having to wait on me to fetch every little bottle from the back. Entire selection is on display," the potioneer said, before going back to his figures.

The candlelight diffusing through the rows and rows of glass bottles created a charming effect, and I was content to admire them for a moment while listening to the others talk. They discussed what ingredients their master wanted, making suggestions to the shop keeper. I browsed, getting ideas of coloration for my next batch of phonies from these authentic samples. Like the restaurant, none of them had a price.

"You don't have any magma dragon scales..." A harried Assistant said to the potioneer. I recognized the mischievous voice. It was Rorona.

"Ah, no. The Provers have been having a bad run of it this year, and I got outbid for the last of the remains of the magma dragon from two years back by the Cordswainer." The Potioneer gave a good humored laugh. "He also outbid me for the diamond dust and the sapphire salve, but thankfully most dragon hordes have a little gemstone collection so I should be getting some in here any week."

"Ah, but I won't be here in a week. Shician Lars is going to be so upset."

"Tell me about it." I chimed in, testing the waters. "Fushon isn't going to be happy either."

"You're lucky. The scales might get here before your Master, since he's so late already," she teased. The Potioneer finished packing her things and handed her the bundle delicately. She took it, cradling it like an infant. "See you around, Azark. Avoid any brawls."

"You too, Rorona."

So people were getting wise that it had been several days and I still had no Master. The Assistants must talk among themselves quite quickly to have noticed me out of the dozens. Then again, I was charming. Either way, I probably should stop drawing attention to my non-existent master unless I wanted my story to fall apart.

With most of the crowd gone already, I studied the wall of potions for the cheapest one that was impressively sparkly and glowing. I found one dose not much bigger than my thumb. The liquid inside swirled with a glowing snake-like length of glitter-like light. Maybe the gold flakes I'd seen earlier?

"What's this do?" I asked.

"That's a tracking potion," the Potion dealer told me. "You drink a bit of it, and sprinkle the rest on the last place you remember something you want was, and it draws a path leading straight to it on the ground with light only you can see."

I asked the price, and he gave it to me. It hurt, but at least it was only four figures instead of five or six. I regarded the remaining coins of my pack. If I bought this, I would wipe out Mallow's bail money. But... I'd earn it all back, too. I waffled, and then decided to buy it anyway. The enchantment sounded harmless enough. I'd never want to poison my gullible customers. I'm not evil, and this looked magical.

I asked to buy any out of style bottles he might have in the back, and he gladly unloaded some on me. From there I got directions to where else they might have glass bottles in town. The Potioneer directed me to both a brewing house and a home that helped farmers by finding buyers for their milk. Back when I'd worked the ranch with my parents, getting a milk route set up had been one of the tougher tasks, so it was interesting to know that in a bigger town like this they had services specifically to take care of that.

I thanked him for the extra information, and walked out the door with my bagful of new, dainty bottles that in all probability would be worth more than the contents I intended to put in them.

The brewery was like all breweries, except maybe busier than usual in an effort to keep up with the demands of the visitors to the city. I got the bottles and then tried to buy some booze for wholesale price, but without a merchant certificate they wouldn't sell to me. It was frustrating because I honestly was not buying for consumption, but for business. Alcohol of all forms was a common ingredient in potions, so I couldn't go without it.

I paid normal price for a small barrel of drink at a shop beside the milk house. They charged more than usual as I was not local and they weren't sure if I was going to keep their barrel. While attempting to lug it around, I realized I had no workspace in my room at the inn.

I secured my new goods to Flatchert's sides and rode toward my carriage outside of town. The gate was still open, but the guard warned me that I would have to stay outside of the town until morning if I didn't return within a quarter of an hour. I debated the merits, and decided getting the work done was more important than the comfort of a bed.

The attendant at the stables recognized me.

"How's your—" He squinted around conspiratorially, before winking at me, "'-daughter'?"

How did this manure-smelling low life make me so crushingly guilty? Not only for remembering that I had failed Mallow again, but for reminding me that I had suggested that she was a gift to be pawned off to Master Reglar, the Age Day brat getting everything else in this town?

"She's good," I said amicably. The smell in the stable was too overwhelming, so I got my horses out temporarily to move my carriage further from the town. Still in view of the guards, but not in the middle of a pile of horse pies, I set up my carriage, stabled the horses, and then walked back to it to work for the night.

My carriage had everything I needed to work. Although it was a little suspicious to choose to sleep outside the town walls, not nearly as suspicious as dragging all my supplies up ten flights of stairs to my inn room. I uncapped the tracking potion, and its magic-and-autumn smell filled the small space. Well, filled all the smell space that the odor of my feet wasn't already occupying. I reminded myself to wash them tomorrow morning, as they had grown ripe from walking around all day. My boots were off, their gold colored buckles glinting in the candle light. I sat cross legged at a small foldable table. At night, I hung it up along the wall giving me more room to sleep inside.

I poured a drop of the potion, and then proceeded to fill the rest of the bottle with booze through a delicate funnel. The sparkles got further and further apart, until they were remote motes of dust floating far from each other in the tiny delicate glass bottles.

It was dark out now, so the curtains around me were closed to keep the mosquitos out. Sometimes I'd ask Mallow to peek her head in to cast some light, but without her, I was in the precarious position of having to light a candle inside of the very flammable carriage while having an open tankard of liquor next to me. If the candle fell in, that would be bad. I didn't even humor any ideas of what would happen if the potion itself came into contact with fire. Some potions had no reactions, but others...

One time I'd accidentally left one out in the sun and the mere heat of that alone had caused it to explode. I'd picked glass out of my skin for days afterwards, and if not for some stupid Avalons passing by, I would probably still have some in me today. The potion's purpose had been a love potion, so I wasn't too hard on myself over the mistake or the fortune I had squandered on the potion without being able to sell any of it.

While I went through the usual routine, my mind continued to wander. It was hard to avoid thinking about Mallow, and whenever I'd start to, my stomach would feel sore even though I knew I had eaten my fill recently and so could not possibly be hungry. When I heard a small voice singing outside of my carriage, I fixated on it, grateful for the distraction. It was no bard, the notes wavering.

"Do not go in the moonlight to pluck the red roses. Do not listen to the crying little ghostes. If into their circle you shall wander, you too will be plucked up by the enchanted gardener. Used to make the one plant grow, your soul shall be the seed to sow." The voice was uneven, the key off. It was a child's voice, maybe a boy's, maybe a girl's. "The life that was once big is now many small, splattered across the floor and wall. Under the sky, in the bright light, in the aftermath of the wedding fight...."

I listened intently. The curtain whooshed at the edge of the carriage, and a small head popped in as the song stopped. I dropped the bottle. Thankfully I had leaned back in terror so the bottle landed harmlessly on the pillow instead of shattering on the table.

The intruder flashed me a smile, bright and open even though she wasn't in possession of all her teeth. She was either very young and still losing baby teeth, or very poor and had already lost some of her adult ones. It might have been a mixture of the two, from the blotches on her face and the fraying edges of her clothes.

"Whatcha doin'?"

I picked up the bottle and showed it the young girl. She was about ten. After staring at sorceresses all day, her stringy brown hair pulled back in a bandana seemed absolutely unkempt, although I knew well that on any other day it wouldn't have bothered me. Her pointed ears drooped a little bit. An elf ungifted. I was tempted to ask her how many siblings she had but decided to answer her question first.

"I'm mixing potions," I said.

She whistled.

"Are you a sorcerer?" she asked. "You must be from outta town like all the other cute ones."

"I'm not a sorcerer. I'm the Assistant for Fushon of Merode."

"Oh." The girl sighed, disappointed. "That's no good. Assistants got coin, but they married to their jobs first, 'nyway kain't help me have an enchanted baby." The girl crossed her arms and settled herself comfortably somehow, even though she must have been standing very awkwardly on the other side of that curtain. "Actually I'm kinnae relieved."

"And why's that?"

"'Cos mom says I got to try and marry a sorcerer so'n there's a chance my kids will be rich and powerful and take care of us... and there's so many traveling through town right now, so thought maybe you were one. But..." She gossiped around her hand. "You were kinnae too old for me to want to marry you."

I threw back my head and laughed. She tilted her head in momentary confusion before joining me in raucous laughter.

"Does that make your cute comment nothing but empty flattery?" I asked, wounded sounded between laughs. "Was it all part of your mercenary marriage scheme?"

"Old can be cute. I h'aint a liar." The girl jutted out her bottom lip.

"You know..." I said, finishing off another half batch of mixtures and placing them into the notched rack to my side. I pulled another bundle of empty bottles before my lap. "There is a sorcerer from Blythe, I think he's only five years older than you." If I could find out a little about Winsor from the locals that would help my aims of getting him under my influence eventually.

"Oh I know," she said. She grimaced and stuck out her tongue. "Mommy says I gots a good a chance as anyone, but this party? It's all for him. But, nobody's seen him having any fun," she conspired. "Not even a little bit. Can you imagine having all the money and magic in the world and not having any fun at all at your OWN Age Day party?" I gasped in farcical shock.

"You're right!"

"It's weird!"

"So weird!"

"My older sister, she had an Age Day party last month. We're not Enchanted, but she still had lots of fun. The BROS even delivered a roast chicken and four cute lil baby chicks and a big ol' bagga chicken feed. Chicks weren't roasted. They were alive. They wouldn't be very filling yet even if they was roasted, so I liked that. The BROS said the Divinis wanted my sister to have as gift, but I'm pretty sure the Divinis dinnit actually know it was my sister Age Day. Pretty much everyone in Blythe gets some sort of present when they have a big celebration. Roast was delicious though. I ain't complaining! Yummy bird excepted, it was only like'n four hours with cake and some dancing." She thumped herself on the chest soundly.

"I played the drum. I also made the drum." She let her head lilt to the side in doubt. "It wasn't as nice as the drums for this festival, since'n I just made it out of an old wash cloth and some old bowl, but my sister enjoyed that a lot more than Divinis Reglar's son is enjoying his drums."

That was one nice thing about kids. You gave them cues and they'd supply the entire conversation. And since their understanding of the world was often half-formed, the conclusions they drew were either incredibly insightful or so staggeringly off the mark as to be hilarious.

"Sounds like your sister is much less weird than that sorcerer boy. I'm sorry I suggested you marry him."

"Pfft, it's all right." The girl blew air through her lips. Her missing teeth made it whistle. "You sound like my mom, tha's all."

"So, may I ask about that song you were singing?" I said. "It was pretty catchy."

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at me.

"Either you are under a mind control spell by that Merode guy or you haven't been in Blythe long," she said. "Everyone in town knows that song."

Whelp, that's a kid for you. If she knew it, obviously everyone knew it.

"You're the one who said I was from out of tow—" I began, but she cut me off.

"But there's a new one that's popular though! It goes like..." She cleared her throat. "N'moonlight is bright, stay clear of the night. With so much enchanted strangeness in town them kids that are naughty no longer 'roun'. A present for the parents, a gift for the whole world, it's hard to imagine a present that reveals nothing when unfurled." She frowned. "It's hard to sing bent over like this. I'm goin' to go so I can sing proper like." She backed out of the carriage as abruptly as she had entered. The curtains swooshed closed behind her. The rustling of the fabric folds was incredibly loud.

I went back to work.

  (( A/N: Enjoying the story? Can't wait for the next part? Snag the complete paperback novel here:  https://www.createspace.com/5621397 or the e-book here: http://a.co/2sNBK9e  

Yay! We finally introduced one of my favorite characters. I know that writing dialogue like this can be a bit unpopular but honestly accent dialogue in novels has always been one of my absolute favorite things about reading. You're forced to slow down a little and really focus on the 'sounds' of the words instead of just the ideas. See you in the next chapter! :) ))