The room he entered smelled of fresh bread of perhaps a dozen different sorts, all commingled and faded over the course of the day. The titanic stone oven at the rear of the shop operated from an hour before the official opening of the shop to well past lunch, filling the air of the Mithryn Market with the alluring scent. The oven now functioned only as a fireplace, lighting the quarried stone floors and packed clay walls in flickering golden light.
"Oma?" Cardon called out as he pushed the wooden door aside, searching for the silhouette he'd seen through the window.
"Pantry!" called a sweet yet powerful voice from further into the shop, somewhere out of sight. Cardon made his way past the front counter, through the small maze of workstations sprinkled with flour and ash, and to the rear of the shop to the sound of something being hefted onto the floor.
From the shadows stepped a woman of perhaps 60 years of age, her figure round and perhaps even plump. She was without the bakers apron that accompanied her most of the day, leaving her with a plain white dress that fell just to the middle of her shins, the sleeves short to display her massively muscled arms, covered with burn scars of all shapes and ages. For all her mismatched appearance, the smile on her face was sweet, the most prominent lines on her face caused by smiling well and often.
She clapped her hands together as she saw him, waddling slowly past him to the counter as she spoke. "Cardon, sweet boy, I was wondering when I'd see you again. Haven't been buying your ten-day sugarbreads! I saved it for you, just in case you came by."
Cardon let out a soft chuckle as she passed him, following her navigate the layout of her shop. "I haven't come for sugarbread, Oma, though if you have some on hand I'll buy it before I leave. I was actually hoping to talk to you about some happenings in the neighborhood. I'm working tonight."
"Oooh, oooh," she cooed knowingly. "Wanting to know what these old hawks-eyes have seen, eh? Heh." She pushed the door to the outside open once more, stepping into the falling night with Cardon in tow. "Tell you what, you look like a robust young fellow. You help me bring these sacks of flour inside, I'll tell you whatever you'd like and give you your sugarbread for your work. Deal?"
Cardon looked to the cart stacked with flour sacks, slowly counting them on his fingers until he came to a sum of 12. He nodded hesitantly. "O-okay."
"Great!" the old woman cheered, hefting one of the sacks into his arms seemingly without effort, though the weight of it caused his legs to buckle beneath him and his eyes to bulge. Oma chuckled to herself, lifting another sack into her own arms. "Come now, don't look so troubled. It's not so far."
Cardon groaned as he tried to straighten his back, pulling the sack into his arms and stumbling after her as she led him back into the bakery. By the time they reached the pantry he could feel himself already beginning to sweat, and he lugged it into one of the neat piles she'd been setting them into.
"So," she said, setting her sack beside the one he'd just put down. "What's all this about?"
"Ho-hold on," Cardon gasped, catching his breath for the second time tonight. "You put bricks in these?"
Her smile was wry and teasing. "Just in the ones you're carrying. I knew you'd be coming. Got the gift of Avalis, I do."
He gave a short chuckle as he caught his breath, following her as she made her way back out to the cart. "Actually, I was wondering if you've seen anyone skulking around Odessa's place, just around the corner. Sometime during the day, maybe around midday?"
"Valerie's apprentice? Oh, no, just the Knights on patrol and such as that. Although..." she seemed to drift off into thought as she grabbed another sack, tossing it over her shoulder and waddling back towards the bakery.
Cardon sputtered for a moment before grabbing one of the bags and attempting to lift it himself, grunting loudly with the effort. Without turning around, Oma called out "Lift with you knees, not your back. It's easier that way, honey."
Cardon narrowed his eyes, squatting slightly and wrapping his arms around his chosen sack, keeping his back straight as he lifted with his knees. Much to his surprise, it came up much easier than when he had tried the other way, and he waddled after her as quickly as he could.
"Although what?" he asked as he dropped the sack into the pile and wiped his brow of the beading sweat that had begun collecting there. "You were about to say-"
"Yes, yes..." she interrupted, waving him off. "I did see a young boy down by there the other day. About your age, blond hair. Burly sort, eh? Looked out of place. Thought it was a tad strange, but didn't think on it too much. Was just a bit past my usual midday rush. Does that help you at all, boy?"
Cardon smiled widely, nodding with certainty. "Yes, thank you, Oma. It gives me something to go on, which is more than I had before."
"Good, good. Well, you've earned your information. Now it's time to earn your bread. Those flour sacks aren't going to lift themselves!"
Nearly half an hour later Cardon strolled out of Oma's Bread and Pastries, a bundle of sugarbread in his arms, covered in sweat and flour. Tomorrow was going to be a work day, and he had to get up early if he was going to catch the proverbial worm. There was a thief of secrets to catch, and he was going to be the one to catch him. |