Page 50 of Embrace the Serpent

She sighed. “I can take you to the next village. That’s it.”

“Thank you—so much.” I hopped onto the back of the cart. It was full of bags of grain, which gave me something to lean on.

I picked the debris out of my hair and combed it with my fingers, tying it into a braid with a bit of loose thread. My dress was hopeless, though I peeled off the worst of the mud, like picking scabs.

I nodded off and woke to Grimney climbing on me, his footjabbing into my collarbone as he craned his head over the cart’s edge.

The sun was low, and the hills were dryer and yellower.

Grimney pointed. A small village, nestled in at the base of a cliff. Some ways away was a decrepit bridge over the whitish carcass of what might have once been a river.

The farmer clicked her teeth, and the oxen slowed to a stop. “As close as I get,” she said.

I took the hint and scampered out of the cart. She brushed off any attempt to repay her. That was for the best, really, since I didn’t know what I’d have done if she accepted. Probably asked Grimney to cough up a stone.

She cleared her throat. “Good luck, kid. It gets better, if you live long enough.” And without waiting for a response, she left. I watched her go.

“I’m completely fine,” I said, once she was a speck in the distance.

Fishbones cracked under my feet as I crossed the riverbed. The shadow of the cliff was inching across the cracked earth, shrouding half the village. The other half was bathed in orange light, which cast a romantic pall over deserted storefronts and decaying buildings.

I passed a little one-room shrine, neatly swept and with incense still burning before the altar. A blacksmith with no smoke coming out of the chimney. A cluster of homes, some with laundry hanging on lines outside.

My stomach growled. I needed food, and ideally a place to sleep.

Half in shadow was a large lopsided building, made more lopsided by the additions that sprouted like mushrooms. It had a battered sign that read “Inn and Trading Post and Stables.”

The door scraped open, and the bell clunked in an aggrieved manner.

I tiptoed, feeling like I was intruding. The store was crammed full of stuff.

“Hello?” I called.

A thump came from a table covered in odds and ends. A tiny old man poked his head out from behind it, blinking through thick glasses that magnified his eyes. “Yes, yes, leave it there—by the stars, a stranger!”

A delighted grin crinkled his face.

“Uh.” I felt for the doorknob behind me.

“Come in, come in!” He elbowed a stack of clay pots, and they teetered, then righted themselves. “Whatever you want, I have it. Ink of darkest black, darker than the night sky. A map, perhaps, of the Empire? Or perhaps a map of before the Empire?” He whispered the last as if it were naughty. He kept pulling things out of cubbies and shelves, all a little dingy and moth-eaten. “A blade of forged steel? A saddle for a war pony? This one came from the steppes, far north. Or, for my most discerning customers—”

“Food,” I said.

He deflated. “None of that, I’m afraid.”

My stomach growled.

“Well,” he said. “I do have one thing...”

He pulled out a tiny bundle of striped cloth tied like a rucksack. It made a soft clinking sound as he untied it. Two little place settings, made for dolls. The plates were no larger than my thumbnail. He spread the cloth out like a picnic blanket and arranged the tableware.The cloth was made with the daintiest embroidery in a pattern of twining flowers.

“This is a magic artifact, made by peris before they disappeared from the world. I’ve never seen one of its equal.”

I hid my smile. That was an old trick. Every curio shop in the city had a cabinet of items like that, meant to dupe the unsuspecting buyer.

“You do not believe?” He tapped the tiny plate with a tiny spoon. An assortment of food appeared, tiny bowls of spiced lamb, yogurt with pomegranate seeds, herbed flatbreads.

My mouth was agape, and I shut it hastily. “Where does the food come from?”

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