Winter 14th
511 AV
511 AV
There was music, drifting lazily through the crisp evening air, echoing softly between the tall and slender Ravokian canals. It was distant and distorted, but Shannon Valdinox recognized the voice of plucked strings. The melody's rhythm was unusual, twisting and drawling like a question. It sounded foreign, Western perhaps. The aristocrat was none too familiar with the settlements outside of Sylira.
Eyes of grey sauntered along the faces of various shops as they drifted past, gilded in the blaze of sunset and set under a darkening, golden sky. The Docks were always wretched with crowds, especially now, when outsider tradesmen sought refuge within the lake from the harsh Winter weather lapping at the shorelines. Some ferries had come into dock stocked with cargo under a thick layer of snow; it was a quaint novelty in Ravok if Rhysol allowed it to snow at all. Shannon scoured the dozens of faces, looking for ones he remembered, and recognized a few names.
At some point, Shannon's day dream faded, and he remembered that his wife was still talking. Under halfway fallen lids, his cloudy gaze cautiously swiveled to meet her sapphire blue. She was seated across from him in the ravosala, a small, paper parasol folded between her lacy, gloved hands. Sadie was a lovely creature, her eyes alive with passion and her burning mahogany tresses flowing over her shoulders with a maddeningly adorable curl. Much of it was pinned back this evening, topped with a wide brimmed hat of emerald satin. Part of her so-called traveling attire, although they hadn't gone any further than the Southern Trading Post that afternoon.
"…and I told her not to wear it. Oh, but you know Liera, just like all the other Wickhams. Head in the clouds, that one in particular. She showed up in that very gown and everyone just…"
Shannon's gaze slid away. The music was still playing, somewhere. It was clearer now than it had been moments ago. Their dainty, elegant vessel cast an attractive reflection in the sparkling water. He and his wife were little more than dark shadows growing from the ravosala's long body. Only its operator, standing at the rear of the boat, looked remotely human as he steered it along the canal. It would be the better part of an hour before they arrived at the Noble District again.
Anchoring his elbow on the side of the vessel, Shannon planted his chin in his palm. He didn't realize he had dozed into a light sleep until his body pitched forward unexpectedly. He grunted and grabbed the side of the vessel in panic.
"My apologies," the ravosalaman offered softly.
Shannon scouted his surroundings with a rapid glance. "We're still in the Docks. Why are we stopping?"
Sadie was drawing an envelope from the mysterious confines of her layered dress. Shannon shifted his weight and corrected his posture as she collected herself. "I have an order to pick up here."
The aristocrat turned, that peculiar music now loud in his ear. A musician was seated in front of a shop along the canal, its large window filled with every variety of bric-a-brac and trinkets. Stenciled lettering was painted over the glass in silver paint, but Shannon paid little attention to the name. From the aged appearance of the shop's peeling siding and rusted door handle, he already knew he would have no reason to step inside it. It looked to be some sort of general store, but there were plenty of shops within the Noble district with plenty of fine selection.
At a second glance, the musician, he realized, was actually a slave. He was tall and human-looking, but for a set of curious horns curling from his temples. He was fair of face, but that made little difference. One glance at the black half-sun mark on his hand told Shannon all he needed to know.
"Why don't you send for it?" But Shannon was already stepping out of the ravosala. The vessel rocked as he relieved it of his weight, then turned to offer his hand to his wife.
She took it. "And trust one of your grubby little servants with my tigerskin handmuffs? They're verified Eyktolian fur. I'd sooner toss them in the canal." Sadie stepped from the ravosala easily, then quickly went about dusting off her gown as if the air itself in the Docks district was foul and dirty.
A dark, well groomed eyebrow arched in question. There weren't any tigers in Eyktol. "You ordered something like that from here?"
"My mother did."
"Your mother is a cheap hag."
Sadie sent Shannon a look that was pure venom. "Shut your mouth before I cut your tongue from your head, Shannon Valdinox. Don't think I won't."
He held up his arms in surrender with an arrogant smile. Sadie, unsoftened by his display, disappeared inside the shop a moment later. Now bored, Shannon sent a second glance to the horned musician. With nothing better to do than wait for his wife's meandering, he stepped up to the slave and poured his eyes over him, inspecting him for imperfections as one examines a fine bred horse. The slave was just a little too perfectly built to effectively mesh with his surroundings. He was a like a gold vein in a slab of slate.
One thumb thoughtfully brushed the tuft of facial hair under his lip. "What is that song you're playing? It's not Ravokian. Answer."