At first light, Sybel had begun to wander the city. For how long she couldn’t say, suffice that the sun had reached it’s highest peak and on. Mid-afternoon was her best guess. It had been in an effort to see the extent of the city, but also to be among people. The simple proximity to other bodies helped her feel more at ease, less alone. It was almost sad how they were so close and yet their minds were so far away. But Sybel wasn’t interested in feeling sorry for herself – not then, anyway. She’d save that for when she had a pint in her, with fiery alcohol coursing through her veins. In the meantime she was attempting to swallow the bitter pill that her plans had fallen through. She’d asked around the market about opening shop, with the usual questions. What would it entail, where were some available spaces, how much would it cost to purchase property. Things of that nature. It was only toward the end of her investigation that she had been informed of the Knight’s regulations – there was no opportunity for profit whatsoever. A prospective merchant would have to surrender their proceeds to Syliran Knights, in exchange for their livelihood and little else. There were no words. It was outrageous. What hurt the most however, was how foolish she’d been. With one hundred gold mizas in her pocket, Sybel had left Eyktol feeling capable of anything. If she returned, it would be hangdog and defeated. That was unacceptable. To make matters worse, her brain had reverted to the previous night’s misadventure at the Stallion. How embarrassing. The way those men had referred to her made her feel like a brood sow. As much as she had played it off at the time, it still lingered. It hadn’t been the actual situation in question so much as how it’d been turned around on her. When the mysterious stranger had raised his glass, it seemed like she would have an opportunity to forget for a while. Just disappear in some innocent game, playing coy. Pretending to be someone else. Instead it had been an ugly reminder of what motivated her. Without realizing, her feet had carried her to a well. The well in question was a beautiful landmark, a circular patter in the masonry embellishing it. Fragrant flowers spilled out of the edge of their tiny pot, hanging from the wooden frame. As she approached, the thick pollen was almost palpable in the air. Peering down into the depths, the glimmer of what looked like coins caught her eye. So it was a wishing well? That was an interesting coincidence, she mused. Deliberately, she fished out a single copper and clutched it tightly in her fist. “Please,” she spoke softly. “Show me the way. Send me something, anything.” It was to Ovek, her deity and thus far best friend. As she tightly closed her eyes, she loosened her fist and the miza plummeted into the well inky depths. It almost sent her back to childhood, standing there… Just hoping fiercely. Footsteps rang out behind her. To avoid further embarrassment, she whirled to face the unknown stranger. |