The Marketplace
The marketplace sprawled. In a city based on being the hub of trade, everything ended up everywhere. Peddlers met up with distributors, warehouses were filled and emptied. Drovers and farmers brought in their stock to be bought by the people who knew how much to send where. And through it all were the craftsfolk and resellers.
Slinking through the crowd, dipping from stall to stall, a figure in ornate clothing looked at everything but purchased nothing. One hand clasped his upper arm and he whispered words others couldn't discern. An inquisitorial air set his demeanor as everything he passed was inspected.
``Disgusting, not worth the materials, gaudy, basic... is there nothing...''
Merchants, for the most part, ignored this although their eyes watched for sticky hands. Someone was like this at every market day after all. The drunken, the insane, and the newcomers from distant lands, they all had their strange ways. As long as none of them stole or broke anything, it was all well enough.
``How am I supposed to find it if you won't tell me what I'm looking for!'' the figure whisper-shouted.
A small figure, coming only up to his knee, darted through the stalls, jumping up on occasion to see the wares before dashing to another spot. Stunned by the intrusion the ornate person stood and turned to give a sharp rebuke. They froze as they encountered the stark white eyes of a very tall and slender woman.
Black and white were a theme of this one, and a number of thin black vanes radiated from her back. She was not pale, but almost impossibly white skinned, but patterned with starkly contrasting black markings. The area around those blank, perfectly white eyes looked as if she were wearing a mask, but it was clearly her skin. Her two long pointed ears stood sharply from the sides of her head at an acute angle.
And all she did was stare. He couldn't even see her breathing.
Captivated though he was, he didn't miss when the tiny figure ran over to the strange lady, going from hyperactivity to eerie silence in an instant.
He looked at the small person, ready with an annoyed comment, then thought the better of it. But in the instant that his eyes left the little one and before they could return to the big one, they were both gone.
``Okay, that was horrifying,'' a voice whispered into his head, ``But come, let us get back to it.''
-The Brothers and Sisters
Further down the lane, there was a commotion as a handful of frantic people of various descriptions were asking around to anyone they recognized. Their looks and species were varied, but each wore worried and strung out expressions. Each seemed as though they were frequent partakers in the more illicit substances that moved through Telvin's Nest and the legal grey-zone it enjoyed between nations.
Each asked after their brother, no matter their own species. But their energy and incoherence lead to nothing but frustration among those harangued. No one had seen the person they described and everyone found themselves put off by the appearance and odor of those involved. More than once the market guards were called to move them away.
Anyone could tell they were aggrieved, but none could help them. No one seemed to have seen hide nor hair of brother Argorat in days. A strange thing indeed for such an involved acolyte of the god of illicit substances that he was. Their own altered states they were varying level of coherent, and occasionally in the past others of their order would have gone missing, but none like this. So obviously, so clearly magically, and while no one else had been effected.
Most in the marketplace ignored them or brushed them off. So often in Telvin's Nest people like these were ignored, sidelined, or otherwise driven away. Most of them, as with everywhere else, had their own problems to deal with.
As much as it pained them, no one seemed to care.
-Obro
The hardest part, Obro was swiftly realizing, was trying to remain unobtrusive when you were so severely overdressed. Worse yet, Erenthal was suffering. All that excess cloth was smothering, far too warm for his sensibilities and especially when out in the sun. Obro wasn't sure what to do. Drinking water only seemed to partially work, and worse was the wetness that seemed to build up inside.
Erenthal's body was agile and lithe, but somehow that was failing. His mind was becoming confused and drifted when Obro was trying to focus on the directions to the enchanters who would have everything Obro needed. But if Erenthal failed, it would be right back to that half-life from before, with the information lost. That simply couldn't be allowed to happen. Something had to give.
People stared whenever he passed by, and drawing attention was something to be avoided. Every now and then something would catch Obro's interest with a magical glow. Rarely, though, as very few had the wealth enough for anything of true value, but often enough for it to be distracting and annoying.
Pushing through, he found the district where his quarry would be, seemingly a plain area with beggars who, to the trained eye, were far more dangerous and prepared than their outward appearance would suggest. No one came to this place unless they were very well connected or very stupid.
Luckily Erenthal knew all the right gestures to make passage even possible. Despite the unusualness of appearance, they let him through. The wizard Anuvail wasn't home, but he could wait in the lobby. Waiting. It was agony. So close, but stymied now.
Patience was required. Soon the prize would come. Soon there would be more.
-Pelias
Pelias felt invigorated by the trade he was seeing. How well they did it in this city! Already he had passed on a portion of his own wealth, feeling it grow as his money changed hands again and again. It flowed, giving him an uncanny sense of the health of the economy as it spread.
So many things from so many places, far and wide, all mingling and moving along their way to their final destinations. A new avenue set his nose alight with scents of foods that combined ingredients from all over. An entire avenue of food vendors, some with benches and tables set up, sold a wide variety of offerings taken from the diversity of trade.
It was amazing, Pelias thought, how peoples across the world might war with each other, but the ingredients they grew found harmony together in the pots of those who did not fight. Truly trade was the avenue to peace amongst peoples.
Without warning, something went wrong. It started as a feeling, as if someone in a crowd had shouted his name, but were nowhere to be seen. Darting his head side to side, Pelias looked for what was wrong. Something was upsetting the flow of wealth. Something was corrupting the economy. But nowhere he could see had anything obviously wrong with it.
Pushing through the crowds he searched; checking stalls, shoppers, vendors, urchins...
A young creature, some sort of insectoid whose species Pelias had never bothered to learn about, bumped past him and felt all over him with their feelers. A classic pickpocketing scheme, perfectly set up, but when he checked for his coins, the ones he kept outside his robes for exactly the purpose, they were shockingly still there! He whipped his head around toward the youth, who was indeed holding something, but not something that had ever belonged to him.
Following, he tried to get a look at what the youth had. This one pushed through, making all the motions of a pickpocket, but ignoring the payoff entirely! What kind of street urchin passed up opportunities for money?!
Darting into an alley, the child made their way to an alcove, set down against a wall. There were others present, a variety of species. All young, but from seemingly also a variety of walks of life. The thieving urchin sat down in the gaggle next to a child in scholars garb, another in fine clothing that was now being fouled by the grubbiness of the alley, and a couple who were clearly from a workhouse. They showed, in secret, what they each had. Objects that Pelias couldn't discern a final form. They played with them, twisting them in odd ways, making colors change and altering them with every pass. It was remarkably like a puzzle box, but not like any he had ever seen before. Fashions and crazes happened, but something here was simply wrong.
``Scatter!'' shouted someone from behind him. He had been found out!
Without a word the children disappeared, making a break for any escape they could find. Leaving Pelias stunned and staggered, alone in the alley. He was going to need to devote some prayer time to this.
-Meerita and Yes
``Why do we have to be the ones to do this?!'' Yes whined, ``This is beneath my dignity!''
``What dignity,'' Meeritza countered, ``You're going to give yourself away if you whine like that.''
``This is boring and menial and stupid!''
``By the gods, what are you, three years old?!'' Meeritza snapped, ``Be quiet or you're going to blow your own disguise!''
Yes flopped down against Meeritza, draping over her shoulders and coiling around her waist. Flopped like that, in such a drooping, pitiful, defeated way... well, it really sold the disguise better. Meeritza could still see through it, but it was definitely far better than it ever had been.
``Perfect, just stay exactly like that. And if I give you bags to hold just... make your arms look like I tied the bags on like a bandolier or something.''
Yes grumbled, but said nothing more.
``Besides, we can probably pick up a few things for ourselves while we're out. And even better, you can keep a second look out for anything off.''
The produce district ranged from exclusive dealers of rarer plants to the second-hand cabbages and near-rotten fruits that could be had by the poor or those who kept livestock. Each had deals with farms or distributors, and the competition was fierce. Meeritza prided herself on getting deals, and her favorite way was by knowing people. The very best part of all this competition was the stall owners? propensity to slander their neighbors and rivals. When she heard their complaints and objections, she had fodder to use to start the conversation with them and allow those wronged providers to vent their own accusations.
Stall after stall she sussed out the best prices, adding in only slight lies of her own to get the owners to think they were being undercut by their rivals. The very best prices for Roonaga's list of commonalities saw her purse lightened quite enough, but that fat kobold would be rolling in ingredients for days. Luckily for her, she could even have the bulkier things delivered. But it was the finer things, the herbs and spices, that would bankrupt her.
The commonest things were a simple warm-up. Still, salt was always at a premium this far from the seas, and with no mines around to boot. Tree bark and leaves from special far-off trees, dried berries that made you sneeze if you smelled them, seeds of all sorts... It was all far too expensive and she only purchased tiny bits, but she knew the magic that Roonaga could work with them.
Finally she pulled herself into an alley, sacks full of tiny little bundles. Yes slithered off and slunk, clearly all.in a huff.
``How did we do?'' she asked, gesturing to her webbing of pouches that she hadn't touched during the whole spree.
Yes puffed out an irritated breath, but remained silent.
``Fine, I'll look for myself.'' she said and took to rummaging.
Out came handfuls and snatches of dozens more spices, more than doubling what she had paid for. Included were even more varieties of things she hadn't bought, as well as tiny bottles of things even she wasn't sure about. She had to be careful, since none were wrapped but only contained in the little bags. It was a veritable fortune in food additives, and that was on top of the fortune she had paid out.
``Oh you beauty,'' she giggled, dropping her normal demeanour in the greedy glee of a job well done, ``you absolute gem, do you have any idea how well you did?''
Yes perked up at the praise, ``really?''
A moment of weakness, passing in an instant and transforming into bluster almost immediately, ``I mean of course it was brilliant. You should expect no less of one such as I. I pillaged the treasures of those pitiful peasants as any glorious dragon would. You are surely honored by my work.''
Meeritza's laughter came out in a burst. Yes's expression quickly soured.
``Okay, complete nonsense aside, do you actually know how much this stuff is worth? And even better, Rooney is going to cook stuff for us with it! You thought her food was good before...''
Yes reconsidered, looking anew at the ill-gotten gains. Never before had the idea of these things being useful occurred. Finished products, yes, and things like gold and metals and wood... but now seeing these ingredients and having tasted their results, Yes felt the glow of value around them. These things were truly treasures, like the jewels on a crown or the coins in a pile. How had it never occurred before? It should have been so obvious.
``We need to do that again,'' Yes said, ``and next time we need bigger bags.''
``Oh yes,'' Meeritza agreed, ``and you're also going to have to show me what exactly you did. I didn't even see you working. Did you do that string trick again?''
``The ways of a dragon are mysterious and powerful,'' Yes said majestically, ``so don't go calling it a `trick' you insolent subject. But, yes, my amazing talent with all things braided and twisted was the key to our incredible success.''
Sound. Rustling. Someone was coming.
They pair hastily grabbed up their spoils and beat a hasty retreat.
-Woggel and Danrozer
Down at the end of the avenue sat a wagon unlike so many of the standard merchant wagons. This wagon was one that could be lived out of. Instead of cargo, it held people. It was as if someone had taken a shed and porch, put on wheels and a tongue, and fortified it as if it might have to withstand a siege.
Draped over the drivers bench was a person in robes. Any observer would notice the great big yellow eyes staring unblinking, as they were the most attention grabbing feature, and after checking that the figure was actually breathing would notice that this person was scaley, but with very fine scales. A tail would be noticed quickly as the observer would think to check. Here was a person-sized lizard, dressed in stained and patched robes, seemingly asleep with eyes open and sunning itself in the late morning sun.
Most people would pass such a cart by. It wasn't worth it, even if the lizard fellow was actually asleep. The wagon stood out as odd in other ways. It had a skinny metal chimney sticking out of its second story. Odd smells wafted through a spectrum as one got closer, blending through flowery and sharp and delicious and disgusting in an utterly suspicious melange.
Even the decorations were strange. Shields and armor were hung on the outside that were battered and worn. They were trophies taken in battle, most seeing them would decide. From the back a door opened and a new figure stepped down. This person was armored in leather plates and wore a sword and dagger on a baldric. He walked around and kicked the recumbent lizard's boot.
``Wake up already Woggel, by the gods how can you sleep so much?''
Woggel's eyes swiveled and he drew in a deep breath.
``Most of you blinkies have no idea when I'm sleeping anyway. You're all weird like that, you know, it's creepy when your eyes disappear under your skin.''
To punctuate this, Woggel licked a broad pink tongue over his left eye and then his right.
``It's unsophisticated.''
``Licking your own eyeballs is... nevermind, who cares. It's your turn. Now get off my seat.''
Woggel wriggled his way off the bench and down to the ground. He stood up in an unsteady, wiggling sort of way followed by a series of overly dramatic and exaggerated stretches. Next, he rummaged in his robes, which clinked and rattled as they went, producing two corked vials which were quickly popped open and drunk down. Shivers erupted across Woggel's body as he attempted to shove the empties into a different pocket.
``Very well. Now that I am ready... make yourself useful and keep my seat warm.''
-Telvin
There was no one else like him anymore. He was not an animal-being like everyone else in the city. Though he walked around and was roughly their shape, Telvin was more akin to the trees and grass, the moss and ivy, and the fruits and vegetables than any who walked these streets.
Even the appellation ``he'' was a misnomer, though he had adopted it so many years ago that no one alive remembered it not being so. The languages around it had even changed as people took on new trends in pronunciation and slang, so that `he' hadn't been how it had started. Back long ago someone had asked him whether he was male or female, and after puzzling out the difference, and realizing there was no difference for him, he had simply selected the one that appeared to be the favorable option.
He passed through the streets, showing no ostentation. There was no need to show status like they did. Any who knew him knew that their success was at his pleasure, those who didn't were of little consequence. Centuries of cultivation and dealing and manipulation had led to this great distribution center of a city. His nest. And in every pass through his streets, his proverbial branches and roots grew.
Today, though, felt different. Over those centuries, few days had been truly significant. Whole years could pass without anything changing. Other times, change could come catastrophically fast, whether naturally or caused by mortal minds. After millennia, one learned to have a sense for these things. Now, today felt like one of those days. Too many influences in one place.
And then he saw her. Only a few times over the centuries had their paths crossed, with even fewer where they actually saw each other directly. Still, she was unmistakeable, black and white, stately, motionless even as she moved, and entirely not what she showed the world. If she was here and her attention was on his city then truly something momentous was coming.
He would have to keep more aware. When the winds of change blew, it was best to be prepared.
