Page 43 of The Ninth Element

“I’m coming too!” The words burst from me before I could even think. A surge of longing to see Shemiran, the city of lights, of merchants, of life, roars inside me; it’s too tempting to resist.

Bahador’s lips curve upward in a stunning arc. “Eager to explore the local honey, too?”

Ignoring him, I take out a scrap of parchment from the pouch I carry on me at all times and channel a sliver of magic into it. With a flick of my wrist, I slice it in half, offering Lila one piece.

“If you hear any whispers of a trial, burn this before it starts. The other half will heat up in my pocket, and we’ll return to Jahanwatch as fast as we can.”

Darian’s arm settles around my shoulders, and he presses me to his enormous body, a wide grin stretching across his face. “See? I told you she is a valuable asset.”

Though his gesture is clearly friendly, not intimate, his touch sends a ridiculous, fluttery spin through my chest, and it takes all of my willpower not to lean into him.

Perhaps this little adventure won’t be so bad after all. And hey, who needs to tell them this is my first time stepping foot in an actual city?

An hour later, the wind whistles a cheerful tune as it whips through my hair, and the scent of wildflowers and damp earth fills my nostrils. Balanced atop my borrowed gelding, I feel a surge of exhilaration and freedom I haven’t experienced in a lifetime.

The midday sun warms my skin and lifts my spirits as the switchback trail snakes down the mountainside, unveiling breathtaking vistas of verdant valleys dotted with farmhouses and curling plumes of smoke. Excitement bubbles in my chest, chasing away my usual nervousness. At this moment, there are no trials or fears, only the wind, the sun, and the promise of adventure.

I’ve never seen a real city’s markets or towering structures. But as Shemiran’s sprawl of red-tiled roofs and sun-baked brick walls appears, anticipation dances in my stomach. Nestled where Maravan, Hamden, Jamshah, and Aramis meet, Shemiran is the continent’s crossroads, a natural haven for merchants.

Venturing deeper into Shemiran, I’m awestruck by the riot of colors and sounds. Bright awnings shade the streets, and the air buzzes with laughter, shouts, and blacksmiths’s hammers. My senses are delightfully overwhelmed. Taking a deep breath, I urge my skittish horse forward, following Darian and Faelas with Bahador behind me.

With a nod, Darian leads us to a public stable. Once our horses are settled, we plan to divide and conquer the vast city: Darian and I to the east, Faelas, and Bahador to the west. Then we’re off.

It’s like stepping into another world—a maze of narrow, winding streets, each a chaotic jumble of sights, sounds, and smells. Turning a corner, we find ourselves at the market’s center. It explodes before us, a bluster of noise and a sensory feast. Stalls overflow with dazzling goods piled high: plump, ruby-red apples glisten, and bolts of silk shimmer in every imaginable shade. The air is rich with the aroma of spices, roasting meats, sweet pastries, and a thousand unidentifiable scents. It’s wonderfully overwhelming, and I can’t help but grin.

I flit from stall to stall like a bee in a field of wildflowers. “Ooh, look at these dried nettles! They’re glowing! And those. Are those pickled snakeskins? In jars? Fascinating!”

Darian trails behind me with a bemused expression on his face. “You know, most people your age are drawn to shinier things. Jewelry. Silks. Not… whatever that is.” He gestures vaguely toward the jar of pickled snake skins, his nose scrunched up in an expression of pure revulsion.

Ignoring him completely, I dive headfirst into a stall overflowing with spices. “Saffron!” I exclaim. “And sumac! Look at this star anise, Darian, it’s perfect! Oh, gods…” I inhale deeply, closing my eyes in bliss.

“Careful there,” Darian drawls. “You’ll sneeze and blow the entire stall, and its unfortunate owner, into the next province. So, it’s all shriveled herbs and questionable animal parts for you?”

“I’m on a mission,” I declare. “I recently unearthed an ancient Madrisa recipe—incredibly rare, mind you—that supposedly neutralizes any venom on contact. Instantaneously! However, the ingredients are somewhat unconventional. Things I couldn’t even find in Jahanwatch. But this place…” I gesture around at the overflowing stalls. “I’m betting I can find everything I need right here.”

I drag him to a stall piled high with jars and baskets, a chaotic jumble of dried herbs, roots, and unidentifiable bits and pieces. “And if you’re good, I might even let you sample my secret potion.”

“Such generosity! I shall compose an epic ballad in your honor, extolling your virtues for generations to come.”

But I barely hear him, too busy examining a jar of what looks suspiciously like dried beetle shells. “Darian, look at these! They’re iridescent! Imagine the possibilities… "

“I’m imagining a potion that smells like a swamp and probably glows in the dark,” he deadpans. “Come on, Arien, let’s find something edible before you start haggling for bat wings and the eye of a newt. We’re supposed to be exploring the city, remember? Not stocking for a mad alchemist.”

I reluctantly part from the shelf and pay for the ingredients I found in the shop. When we finally head out, we stop at a stall manned by a portly man with a huge mustache. Behind him, a thick cloud of steam rises from a large metal pot, carrying the scent of spiced meats.

“Two skewers, my friend,” Darian says to the vendor.

The man, wiping his hands on a grease-stained apron, skewers chunks of marinated meat and plunges them into the bubbling pot.

My senses are overwhelmed by the sights and smells, and I practically vibrate with excitement. Darian chuckles at my enthusiasm. “Someone’s easily amused. Never seen a grown woman so excited by a bunch of meat and vegetables.”

“This is an adventure!” I bounce a little, unable to contain myself. “The closest this continent has to a capital.”

The vendor hands us each a steaming skewer. “Shemiran has its charm, missy. Especially if you know where to look.” He gestures toward a side street barely wider than an arm’s span.

“What is happening on that street?” I ask the vendor.

Darian takes a bite of his skewer. “Who knows? Maybe it has a talking parrot or a juggling gnome.”

---