That Which Occurred in the Soul Market; a Wild Street Urchin Appears
Threesday, Third Hand of Fireseek, EE237
Tándir of Great Harbor
Folkestone's Landing, Wirost
Carrying a worn leather backpack, I wended my way through the Soul Market, spices and honey-sweet flatbread scenting the air, battling with the stronger scents of roasted chicken kebabs and loose leaf tea and smoke. Shoppers bumped, nudged, and jostled in the narrow shop-lined lane and voices were raised in artfully fake outrage as they bargained back and forth loudly. Above the normal din of the bazaar rose the calls of the slave auctions as men bought and sold their latest acquisitions. The slave markets of Wirost, of which the Soul Market was the largest, were in full swing this time of the year. Like most places in the known world Wirostian slavery did not merely happen, it was an institutional reality of daily life.
This familiar hustle and bustle brought relaxation, a physical melting of muscles in my shoulders and neck. It had been a long journey from Tyyst's former capital city of Southport to the docks of Folkestone's Landing and I was glad to be back home after five days at sea.
My destination slowly emerged as I meandered, a decade old three-story apartment block some four hundred yards ahead that seemed to hang over the Soul Market, empty washing lines strung to the opposite buildings from shuttered windows.
As I made my way through the market I used displays of reflective brass trays and polished copper pots to keep track of her. I'd picked her up almost immediately while wending my way through the narrow lanes filled with small shops and throngs of Folkestone natives mixed with the occasional oddly dressed outlanders. Why was she following me? She was small, a child of perhaps eight cycles or possibly a halfling, skinny and filthy, dark hair messy. But her eyes fascinated me. In a subtle turn, out of the corner of my eye I thought they were olive-green and large in her pixyish face. A smudge of dirt marred one cheek. Taking my time, pausing to look at some intricately embroidered clothes before moving on, I let her follow, quite intrigued.
When we turned the corner to my apartment building she bumped me from behind before trying to peel away.
Reaching out I grabbed the scruff of her dirty tunic and lifted, turning her as she hung off my hand. I could tell that she was a child of mixed breeding, part native of the islands, dark-skinned, perhaps Ascadian or Lachaxian, and part Hirossan or Cinibarran. At that particular moment though, she was mostly struggling to get free. I was also stunned to realize that she had tried to disguise herself as a halfling. A somewhat tall halfling, but a halfling nonetheless. Dangerous business, that, considering halflings were generally considered to be little more than expendable slave stock for the plantations scattered across the Mystshroud Isles.
"Give," I instructed.
"Arda?"
"Ah. Vuopap irle Lurien? Thodi," I instructed the struggling little girl in halfling and gave her a small shake. She was very young, I thought, weighing less than sixty pounds and perhaps four feet and change tall.
An angelic expression emerged on her dirty face. "Give what?" she asked in the common language.
"My purse."
"Why would I have your purse?" she asked, all innocent.
I didn't really have time for this. I wanted to deposit my things in the safety of my apartment and retreat to my favorite inn for a bath and an ale. "Listen, either you give it to me or I'll find it myself." I watched as she stopped struggling, still suspended off the ground. The odor she gave off hit me at a slight breeze. She stunk.
Her eyes were really quite fascinating. I was right, a very unusual olive-green that demanded attention and was quite uncommon for a native of the islands. Fishing behind her, she extended her hand offering me my purse, the cut strings dangling from between her fingers. "Here," she said.
Dropping the backpack filled with the two changes of clothing from my trip, I reached for my purse.
An enigmatic smile emerged once again through the dirt and grime, a spectacularly fascinating smile that curved the corners of her closed lips, an "I've got you all figured out" smile.
Without letting her down, I hefted the bag in the palm of my free hand. "All right, young lady, give me my coins."
"What coins?"
The attempt at innocence failed. However, I was truly impressed with her skill. She had remarkable dexterity, and exceptionally light touch, and was clearly very quick; to be able to not only cut the strings of my purse and remove it but to empty it of at least a few coins before I had lifted her from her feet was truly impressive. Truth be told I might have been hard-pressed to achieve such a feat in my own youth.
I shook her again and almost smiled at her grin. I noticed gaps in her wide teeth, upper canines missing or perhaps just growing. It gave her an impish, innocent grin.
"Okay, relax." Digging behind her she pulled out a handful of coins and handed them to me. Copper Crowns and silver Stags.
I was about to put her down when that smile reappeared on her face. "All of it," I ordered with another shake.
She laughed and fished behind her back for the last few coins, extending her hand to me. By Ados, they were all gold Dragons. I was truly impressed. "Here. That's all."
Letting her down I picked out a few Crowns from the handful she had returned and handed them to her as I picked up my backpack once again. "Go get something to eat." I left her at the entrance to the apartment building not giving her a second thought.
