The 12th day of the Winter season, 512 Min strode through the bazaar on her long legs, her gait measured but powerful. She typically walked with an air of self assurance and purpose – like a person who knows where she is going and what she seeks to accomplish once she gets there. But this was not exactly the case on this day. She had some leisure time to fill, the hours of work set for her at the Soothing Waters not yet reached in this mid-morning timeframe. Always curious to know more about her newly adopted city, Min had come to the great indoor market to explore what was on offer – and also to be in a place away from the cold of winter outside. So despite her gait, she was not heading to any one place in particular, but simply ‘window shopping’ at all the many, many stalls. Her dark eyes took in her surroundings, looking at the wares on displays, but the people around her as well. Old, young, children, babies, mothers and wives, knights and vendors – there were shoppers and workers of every type milling about. Occasionally, she would pause to better scrutinize something that had caught her eye. But she made no purchases, for she had no real need of anything – at least, she hadn’t seen any thing that especially called out to her - until she came to a stall where a variety of knives were set out on a table. Min wasn’t a particularly pugilistic Myrian. Like all of her race, though, she saw a great value in weapons and defensive fighting skills. And beyond that, knives had a hundred and one uses, from hunting, to survival in the wild, to gathering of plants for food and healing. She already had a knife, which was pushed down into the top of her boot at the moment. One of those on display, however, caught her eye and she reached out long, slim, strong fingers to caress its handle, which was carved out of some sort of antler or horn. Picking it up, she looked carefully at the intricately decorated grip. It consisted of three human skeletons, with limbs entertwined, in a macabre embrace. Min brought it quite close, looking for something, and finally spotting it. Her eyes widened in surprise – but whether it was a pleasant one or not, it was hard to say. Holding the knife out to the vendor, she demanded, “From who? Who gave you it?” The man on the other side of the table beamed and that unmistakable look of a salesman who believes he can make a sale settled on his features. He spread his hand effusively and smiled an oily smile. “Ah, my lady, I can see you have an eye for quality. That knife…” “This is not yours,” Min interrupted, her own features not looking very pleased. “You steal. Or some people steal. This is not your knife.” Her Common was not perfect and heavily accented, but she appeared to be getting her point across, for whatever reason she thought the merchant had no right to this particular knife. The man’s expression was slipping away to one of annoyance and indignation. “Of course it’s my knife. I took it in trade not a month ago. From one of your people.” The last words were not exactly said with a sneer, but something close to one. “I…” Min tossed the knife back on the table with a clatter, a look of disdain on her proud face. “Not yours. Not sold. Not traded. Stolen.” She placed her hands on her hips and looked a challenge at the man. “Where? Where did you steal this? From who?” By this time, some of the milling crowd was looking on with interest at the tiny conflict. The vendor, noting this, leaned closer to Min over the table and lowered his voice. All bonhomie had left his face and his voice, as he hissed, “Look – I traded for that knife – from its owner – fair and square. Now, I don’t need you to be implying I’m a thief – so just shove off.” He leaned back and made a dismissive motion of his hand. “Go on – move it.” He glared at her, and added, “Before I send for a knight.” Min’s eyes narrowed and her arms went across her chest – mainly so that she would resist the temptation to pull her own knife from her boot and slit the man’s throat. But she knew – though she had to grit her teeth to do so – she had to behave. She had to, for now. The people who were now staring at her didn’t bother her in the least. The knights that she has seen patrolling the bazaar, just as they patrolled everywhere in this city, were another matter altogether. She knew they meant business and only a fool would bring them down on himself – or herself – without exceptional provocation. At that moment, another customer, presumably, approached the table and the vendor turned his attention to the newcomer. Min drew in a deep breath and forced her body to relax, dropping her arms back to her side. She turned abruptly to ponder what she had just discovered – and ran right into yet another shopper. Literally, she came chest to chest with him and almost stumbled. Her mood not being the best, she first cursed in her own tongue and then said rather curtly in Common, “Move, please.” |