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Art by: Natalie LUI
For Mirani (Garuda) - Merle (Bees)


Market Day was always lively and bright, especially now that the flowers were starting to bud and Spring was on the way. A chill was still in the air in the early morning for those shoppers who were early risers, but by mid-day the sun will have warmed up the market place to a more comfortable temperature that a nice coat would be more than enough. Vendors shout into the morning air selling all manner of things, fruits, vegetables, fish, herbs, jewelry, weapons. Everything could be found if enough time was given looking for it.

One stall in particular was drawing a crowd to it. A variety of interesting and rarely seen imports lay scattered across the table. Some simple objects of no use other than to draw the eyes. Others might be potentially dangerous if used incorrectly or mixed or perhaps they were nothing more simple than exotic teas as the vender claimed. On another portion of the table sat some beautifully carved Jade pieces, various animals and flowers. One in particular carved in the shape of a lotus, had the vender warning curious buyers of the curse that rested within the stone. Yet was it story meant to draw attention or a true warning to be heeded?
 
This stall...

Merle had been drawn to it like many other passersby. But unlike the other market-goers, he was not impressed by the variety of the display. His eyes had a hard tilt to them as he stepped closer. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it over his nose. If he had remembered his gloves, he would have put them on too.

Stalks of lunar borage* were hanging right above an open container of pickalillie powder**. If a splash of water got on the two, the reaction would cause a scalding off-gas. And there, displayed in an unlocked glass box - was that real necrotic aconite***? Anger flushed hot in Merle's cheeks, appalled as he was at the carelessness of it all. Did this town not have a healer or a surgeon to advise them against such things?

He was about to lay into the stall owner, when a rustle of movement drew his attention. Someone next to him was reaching for one of the baubles laid out on the table.

"Wait, don't touch that--!"

Merle grabbed her hand and yanked it away, roughly.



*Also called starflower, cow's tongue, and blight's bane, lunar borage is a purplish plant that grows abundantly across Ilica. It tastes like cucumber and makes for a decent garnish, and can also be dried for use in teas. The plant can carry trace amounts of blight if grown in corrupted soil, which reacts in a volatile way to anything magic.

**pickalillie powder is comprised of finely ground armonium, and various filler substances. It is on the First Ring's list of banned alchemical reagents, but outer-territory merchants still sell it as a cureall. Ingesting it causes no help nor harm, unless one is a shroudweaver. In which case, the weaver may suffer from spontaneous combustion.


***A bell-shaped flower with poisons so potent it can "kill the already dead", as renown alchemist Godomar Burrowes once put it.
 
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Wide eyed and scrunch browed, Mirani stared back at the man. Disbelief a-swirl with displeasure in how her features twist and pulled across her face. "Pardon me?" she asked, her hand hovering just inches away from the Jade piece carved into a lotus, and yanked her hand away from the hume. "If you wanted that damn thing, then you can just say as much, you overgrown mushroom," she said through her teeth. Huffed, shook her head, and adjusted the collar of her green croak. "The nerve of some people, Moth's dust,"
 
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The halfling woman gave him a cross look, and called him a mushroom.

"There are worse things to be," Merle said, only sparing her a downward glance. "Dead, for example."

Merle took the handkerchief from his face and covered the "jade" piece with it. Picked it up gingerly, careful not to touch any part with his skin. The petals of the carved lotus were polished to a gloss, making it look like the stone flower had truly just been plucked from a pond.

"Ah, you two must be keen-eyed collectors," the vendor came over to them, speaking in a silky tone. Her hair was done up in two braids that curled elaborately around her ears. As she clasped her hands, the rings on her fingers clinked together. "That's our rarest piece. All the way from the elfen forests of Suldaza, the Jade Lotus was a gift from a warlord to his beloved. But the lovers were star-crossed, and their tragic end wrougth a curse into the stone--"

"The symptoms of the curse,"
Merle cut the vendor off. "Do they include things like hearing voices, paranoia, memory loss, obsession?"

The vendor's eyes widened with surprise. "Y-yes, you must know the story! But not to worry, every purchase of one of my artifacts comes with a complimentary protection ward, guaranteed by a real Ring Weaver to safely contain any malevolent spirits."

She spread her hands out between Merle and the halfling woman, open palmed. "Now, I believe the lady here had her eyes on the piece before you. It's only right for me to hear your offer first, miss."
 
Mirani stared at the lotus, her eyes flicked between it, the seller, and the greying man. "What?"

She asked, shook her head and took a step back, hands up between her and the piece. She fanned the little relic away. "Look, look, I just wanted to get a better look at it is all, I don't want no part of no cursed item between lovers and the like," she laughed nervously, and looked to the hume. "It's all yours, big man, seeing as you're so keen on it and all," she smiled, and started to turn away.

She had enough bad luck as it was.
 
For the first time, Merle made an effort to soften his features. The halfling woman did not deserve his wrath, and she might need his help. "I'm afraid you're already apart of this," he said to her. Merle pulled the corners of his handkerchief over the stone, tucking it out of sight. "A curse this strong is beyond me, it would be best if we both went to the nearest--"

"Oh, let me box that up for you, ser. And about payment..."
The vendor, pleasantly oblivious, was still trying to close the sale. She clapped her hands together, and smiled big and bright at Merle. "For a one-of-a-kind piece, I would normally not let it go for less than a gold."

Merle went back to scowling as he reeled round on the vendor. He pulled forward the knife* that hung from his belt loop. It was thin and curved, with a carved crystal hilt. The sheath was elaborate, silver and glossy enamel looping around in intricate patterns. "Since you work so closely with the Rings, you know what this is, yes?"

The woman behind the stall balked and sputtered. Only her ears turned red. There was too much powder on her face to see the rest of the flush there.

"I'm not paying for the jade, I am confiscating it."


*Daggers with clear glass armonium hilts are gifted to proven servants of the Blade Tower, an emblem that shows they've completed the First Ring's stringent examinations.
 
Plum colored brows furrowed, and evergreen eyes narrowed to needle points.

"Like the crater's you aren't!" she shout, gathered her breath in grumbles and gave the apple cheeked old man a shove against the thighs. "You no good, know it all," she huffed, and dug a hand into her pocket. Dug out a handful of silver pieces and slapped them down on the table. "Here'n you go miss," the plum far from her hollow stated, simple as that. "Now I know it ain't what such a fine relic might be worth but," she lifted her nose some, so that she might see over the table just a bit better. Moved the pieces across the mantle.

Her vision blurred some, and a whisper nagged at her ear. She turned to try and find it, but there was not but the big man, and the crowd mulling behind her.
 
There were now two women aghast of him, the halfling staring needles and the over-puffed vendor reddening in the ears. And they were both still trying to make a sale!

The mighty little woman shoved him aside, and Merle had to stumble back to catch his balance. He was all rustling fabric and wide eyes as he watched her offer up a handful of silver for the cursed thing.

"Can neither of you see what's happening--"


"My wares are in high demand, ser, you'll have to wait your turn." The show of silver had the vendor regain her gusto. "And I won't respond kindly to threats." She looked at him pointedly. Merle wondered how many more imaginary stab wounds he could suffer.

The damned thing was already in his grasp. All he had to do was turn round and walk straight to the nearest atelier. There was sure to be a ringed weaver around, even in a town this small. A box sealed properly with silver clay, a few mantras uttered by a gifted mouth, and all this could be settled before supper.

A hand, invisible on the small of his back, pushed him closer to the vendor's table.

"Ah, who am I to argue with the flow of commerce," he resigned himself. Merle uncurled his fingers from round the jade lotus, offering it open-palmed to the green-eyed girl. Its weight could be felt through thin cloth, a coldness that promised relief, if only he let go of it. "Here, if you want it so badly."
 
With a smile on her face, Mirani thanked the vendor and gave a nod, as she heard the large man's voice surrender to the transaction that had taken place. The merchant glad as she counted coin, where but moments ago she was being robbed.

Mirani's eyes flit up towards the man, large as an owls. "Want it?" she asked, as the smoke-wind tones rasped and hissed in her ear. She frowned, put her hands about his in a way that saw his hand close about the Lotus once more, and shook her head no. "I already told you I didn't want the cursed thing," she huffed. Then turned away from the stall and looked about the street and all the passersby.

It was a lovely day. Yet, she felt a chill, where but moments ago she had only felt the warmth of the sun against her dark skin.

"Weren't you just saying we should take it to a weaver or some such?" she saw a strand of her hair fall, just infront of her eyes. She scrunched her brows, and tucked it back.
 
Puzzled, Merle looked down at the two delicate hands that cupped his own. They curled his fingers back 'round the stone.

"But you paid for..." He moved his gaze to those big green eyes of hers, then toward the stall. The vendor had gone back to her business, paying them no mind now that her lockbox was a few silver coins heavier.

Slow as sludge, a thought rolled over in Merle's mind and flopped into the mud. His perception shifted.

"Ah. I've been an ass."

As the curious little halfling stepped away, Merle tied the stone up more tightly. He pressed the bundle into his breastpocket. It sat cold against his heart.

"We should, yes," Merle replied. He came to stand next to the halfling. "Now, where would one perch in a town like this?"

Looking every direction he could see, he stepped round in a circle. He landed on a cross street that inclined sharply upwards, rows and houses layered on each other like tiers of a colorful cake. "There, I'd bet, at the top of the hill. Weavers love to be up on high."
 
Mirani quirked a brow at the man. "You went around flashing that there fancy knife of yours, sayin how'n you knew what was to be done with the cursed thing, and you don't right know where a proper weaver might be?" she said, smile wide and a laugh there behind it. She clicked her teeth and gave a friendly smack to the man's leg, and turned again to the vendor.

"Scuse'n me miss," she waved a hand up to grab the woman's attention. "Might'n you know where we might find the town's weaver?" her head tilt some with thought. "Or'n atleast someone who might know?"
 
Merle's cheeks were already always sort of red. His ears turned to match as the halfling continued to tease him. Well, he deserved as much. Maybe she could swat him a few less times, though.

The vendor didn't have an answer, in fact she barely seemed to notice as the little woman waved up at her, already engrossed with another sale. Luckily, another shopper stopped her browsing to answer. A woman in a blue dress, her basket full of plums. One of them had a nick in the skin, a droplet of vibrant red juice rolling down its side. It was too early in the season for black plums to be that ripe, Merle noticed.

"There's an old weaver who lives at the edge of town, in the hills right before you get to the south road," the woman said. She pointed in a direction. "Just go straight this way, through the markets, 'till you see an old stone archway without its wall. That's the path you'll turn down."

"Right." Merle sniffed resolutely. "That was going to be my next guess."
 
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