[The Great Bazaar] Lady and the Tramp

[Sondra]

Sondra wasn't sure if what she was doing was expressly forbidden, but it didn't keep her from being discreet. The knights had a way of broadly interpreting certain regulations in the castle. It was times like this when she missed Sunberth, but a quick recollection of the smell of slag heaps was an easy cure for any misplaced nostalgia. Too broke to officially rent a booth, the Konti lingered in cross-sections of the Bazaar, changing position every few minutes. Her voice was sweetened to a pleasanter pitch when she spoke a quick offer to curious pedestrians. "Little fortunes told for a little silver." Somewhere she knew her grandmother was fuming over the callous treatment of a hard won gift. But Grandma didn't have to buy a rug for her guests to sleep on, or barter for mealy apples with men who sweat grease. Some consolation to Grandmother Eunoe was Sondra's methods: palm reading. A talent Sondra couldn't do for shyke, but she could tell people what they wanted to hear. If she told them real fortunes using her true methods, there'd be a violent riot with her in the unfortunate heart of it. A smooth faced youth passed, easy mark. She leaned into the road and cast out her casual offer. "Palms read for silvers."

[Hadrian]

Hadrian had heard her the first time as he wandered around the Bazaar. He had a nasty habit of staring at Konti, and even if it was harmless, he had been told it was creepy. From the way she called to him as he passed, though, it seemed his intentional bit of looking away had worked. He paused, gazed at her for a moment up close with chlorine blue eyes. He considered her, wondering why she was peddling her Goddess-given gifts for such spare change. Perhaps she had fallen under hard times. "Silver?" he asked. Fishing around in his winterbane coat, he found a gold miza and set it in her hand, and if he hadn't known better, he would have said he had Konti blood for how pale his hand was, nearly the same shade as hers. "Gold for your goddess, if not for yourself, mistress. I'm afraid it will be rather boring reading, though." He offered her his hand, curious if this was an acquired skill for her or truly something Avalis had granted her upon conception.

[Sondra]

Sondra looked at the gold miza in her hand. She could lie for silvers, but her conscience scratched at her over a miza. He even had to invoke the goddess in the matter. Lady Lis, this kid wasn’t making it easy on her. “You’re what, thirteen?” her adopted tone lost some of its sweetness. “Where does all the disposable income come from?” And was there more where it came from? The Konti looked around, wondering if this was some elaborate setup. If so, some knight needed a new, time-consuming hobby. Petch it. She couldn’t eat her conscience, and considering all the other feelings of guilt she held, both hers and borrowed, this was child’s play. His hands were clean, groomed and almost pale as hers. “A scholar I take it.” She huffed a humorless laugh, “That’s not the fortune, just observation.” Opening his palm, Sondra’s mind began to whir with what sort of things a scholar would love to hear: fortunes of brilliance, of great works, of getting the pretty girl despite general social ineptitude. Considering the buying price, this one might favor a few particulars. Perhaps it would even earn her more mizas. Sondra lifted her free hand to her mouth and began to pull off her glove with her teeth. She was careful to avoid touching her face with her fingertips as she took the dangling glove from her mouth and shoved it in her pocket. Her fingers hovered over his willing palm and her brow tensed. It was like guessing whether you were about to plunge your hand in tepid or scalding water, the Konti never knew whether a sin would rise at her touch or if it would be of a monstrous sort. She could still put the glove back on and muddle through the old-fashioned way. Glancing at Hadrian's face brought a little re-assurance. He had something of the brat about his features, but he was still too young to be truly versed in wickedness. Or so she hoped. When Sondra touched Hadrian's palm, his mind upheaved with a sickening rush of memory. Hadrian suddenly felt a wash of shame as he recalled little cruelties he had perpetrated. A feeling of unwelcome intimacy rounded off the emotional experience. The Konti took it all in stride, what truly upset Hadrian only stoked a perplexed look from Sondra. She made a private joke out of his first fortune, black humor was her favorite crutch. “I can see here,” the Konti traced a random crease on his palm, “You are no particular friend to felines. They make my eyes itch, personally, but you have rather extreme measures.”

[Hadrian]

"Twenty-two," he corrected, though without rancor. When she guessed his occupation, at least in part, he smiled faintly. "Well, your second observation was closer to the mark." He fell rather silent after that, though. Some fortunetellers thrived upon the clues given to them by the querent, but since he had come with no question, he figured he would let her See what she would See. Being a Konti, it was imprudent for him to assume she was a hack, even if Avalis didn't bless all Her children. His pale cheeks, nearly as pale as hers, flushed at her touch. The reaction confused him, as did the rush of shame. Certainly he appreciated the exotic beauty of Konti women, had pictured the pale beauties in his mind's eye while sinning against his flesh, but that didn't mean he immediately leched after every one he saw. But her comment -- was it snide? -- made his whole body tense, and it was only his self-discipline that kept him from pulling his hand back. Had the novice knight gone and spread rumors about the blood sacrifice that his enchantment had required? Did everyone think he was some bloodthirsty terror to the pets of Syliras? He had been kind to the cat, making the remaining days of its life more comfortable than any previous before taking it. He had not been unduly cruel, a quick slice of its neck and it bled out so quickly into the waiting glyphs... "Necessity," was all he said, but she had his undivided attention now, even as he forced his muscles to relax in her grip.

[Sondra]

Sondra quipped back, “Not an uncommon excuse, but a frequently mis-quoted one.” The Konti smirked, “But I am not here to judge.” She had her own necessity defenses, and those covered something graver than cruelty to animals. Now came the tricky part. She had given some proof of validity, so it would be easier to believe what followed. Hadrian's borrowed memory had come in cumbersome chunks, but his willingness to be read had made the retrieval easier. She closed her eyes, which was good because it both helped her concentrate and lent a mystical air to her mien. Sondra tried to slow and arrange the memory of the sin in a cohesive fashion. All the while, her gut shifted uncomfortably, for when she shared the vision, she shared the guilt. Lady Lis, it was a timely reminder of why she disliked mages. When she opened her eyes again, she dragged her finger over a new line in Hadrian’s hand. “You will be called upon again by similar authorities for glyphs, should you perform them well, you will earn renown among their numbers. And each time the sacrifice will be easier.” There, that was pretty solid. It appealed to both vanity and dread, the perfect balance of which made one compelling fortune. Just in time too. From the corner of her eye, Sondra spied the familiar livery of one of Syliras’s oh-so-devoted knights. With money in her pocket, she could call it an afternoon. “Thank you for your charity, good Sir,” she bowed her head, “Best of luck in your…” Kitty-slaying? Pet hunting? Cat gutting? “…endeavors.” With that the Konti tried to make an exit. As she turned to leave she began to replace the glove on her bare hand. Gods, she wanted to go home and stare at the wall for a bell. The crowd of people and chancy work wore her down to her final nerves.

[Hadrian]

He was quiet as she worked, glancing from her to his palm and back, curious as to what might be going through her head or what she was experiencing when attempting this stuff. He also considered taking up the pastime himself, but he figured that if he wasn't blessed by Avalis, it would mostly be guesswork or, worse, charlatanism. When she finally spoke, his heart quickened. He couldn't help himself. Perhaps the Knights really would prefer his work to Devan's and he could become the Magecrafter of Syliras, using the resources of the Knighthood and the City to craft their talismans and arms, and get paid enough to continue his own work and experiments. But then... "What the...?" He glanced in the direction her eyes had darted, then back to her. She was leaving? He didn't put a hand on her; he had been too well-trained in etiquette for that and this was hardly life or death, but he immediately began tailing her, almost right on her heels. He might not have had much strength or stamina, but he had always walked to get his mind out of a rut and this was his hometown. It would be difficult in the extreme to lose him. "Wait!"

[Sondra]

Sondra had hoped for a simple conclusion to the day, but the kid was on her heels. Gods, no such thing as easy money, is there? She debated how to deal with him: confrontation or a strongly feigned ignorance. Right now, ignorance might work. There were a lot of people in the market, how was she to notice one more closely pressing body? The Konti tried this tactic for about twenty feet, but it was growing ridiculous to pretend he wasn't hovering and trying to get her attention. He knew his way around and had an annoying amount of persistence. Taking a deep steadying breath, Sondra spoke to him over her shoulder, but didn't stop walking. "You scholar sorts are insatiable. Too much time reading, I wager. Gives you a taste for easy knowledge." Sondra shrugged, "Sometimes the quest for knowledge, sadly, meets a wall and I can only read so much." She didn't seem terribly torn up by the idea. Sondra kept walking, thinking this would slow him down, but she was mistaken. They were approaching one of the stairways that led to the city's varying levels. She finally stopped at the brink of the first step and turned to face Hadrian fully. "Do you plan on following me home?"

[Hadrian]

"There's nothing easy about gaining knowledge," he retorted, still following her. "And wisdom is even more difficult than that to accrue. But you're a fortune-teller, not an oracle. You can give me more than that for a golden miza." And then he pulled up short so as not to run into her. Wary, because she looked rather stronger than the average Konti he had ever seen, he spread his empty hands to show her he meant no harm. "Look, if that's all you saw, just look me in the eye and tell me you have nothing else for me and I'll take you at your word and leave you alone," he said, attempting to get her to see reason, at least from his perspective. "But if you got spooked or were just..." lazy "...I'd like to hear what else you saw, if you don't mind."

[Sondra]

He wasn't asking for anything but honesty. An easy enough request for most, but honesty was the last thing Sondra wanted to give him. "Spooked?" Sondra strangely hooked on this word. "By an overzealous knight, maybe, but in regards to what I see in you..." Sondra's smile was half wicked. "You're gentle as mother's milk. A little creepy, but I've seen worse." The Konti scanned the stairway for inopportune eavesdroppers. "If you want more it's gonna take more from me and you, and I can bet you money, you're not going to like what you see." Sondra gave an imperceptible shudder as she thought of her scrying mirror, it's terrible black expanse face down on her bedside table. During the hollow hours between midnight and dawn, she swore it asked for her. The Konti had already run her mouth and said too much. Gone were the days when discretion hemmed her lips. Back then she had something worth protecting, now there was a dangerous sort of abandon in her choices. "Take it." She took the miza out of her pocket and tried to drop it in Hadrian's hand. "It's not worth the trouble you're intent on giving me. I don't need my ass dropped in some stone pit by one of Syliras''s 'protectors' because one of their favorite mages cried foul."

[Hadrian]

Creepy was an adjective often ascribed to him, so it rolled off his back like rain off a duck's feathers. But he didn't feel gentle. He thought he was rather ruthless in his pursuit of knowledge and, eventually, wisdom. Had he not hurt living creatures in order to power enchantments and provide the fundamental materials for maledicted fetishes? "I don't want the petching miza," he said, holding his hands behind his back. If he had gotten the short end of the stick in their transaction, shame on him. He wasn't going to demand a refund. "And I don't want to get you in trouble. I just want what I paid for, but if you're going to remain recalcitrant, ..." He shrugged, then turned to leave her. Hadrian wasn't good at interpersonal communication and he wasn't sure how to get anything out of her that she didn't want to give. A thought struck him, though. Turning back, he said, "I'm not one of Sylira's favorite mages. I've done work for the Knights and they've paid me, but not enough to assuage my conscience." He paused. "Are you Sondra?"