Page 26 of To Touch A Silent Fury
“Do the Threads choose my Fate and bind my blood to its result somehow, or do you interpret the signs in my blood in order to divine the Fate my powers require?”
It masked the question I was sure was painted across my face.Did you do this to me?
The Thread’s eyes flashed. “What do the scriptures tell you?”
“That it is the latter.”
“Then, why do you ask me?”
I only sat in silence as the carriage driver waited in the same place we had stopped before.
The Thread nodded to me. “It was a well-formed question.”
“And your answer?”
He smiled, and looked a bit younger, though no more sane. “I’ve given it.” I would have protested, had he not then waved his hand out into the street. “The seamstress, Medrilla, is in the nearby market.” He pointed past the front of the carriage. “Can I trust you to find her without incident?”
I was allowed out? In the city? Alone? I suppressed the beaming smile into a far more demure one. “Of course. I will locate her shop and wait for you there.”
He studied me for a moment longer, his smile now gone, then nodded. “Be careful, girl. Keep your hood up and your eyes down. It may smell like rosehilt here, but foul play will occur just as readily.”
“I understand,” I said. Then I brushed past him, jumping down onto the street without using the step, just as Seth had done.
I looked back to see the Thread shaking his head. He shut the door, tapped the top of the carriage, and the driver spurred the two dun horses into action again.
I bowed my head, peeking out from under my hood. The moment the carriage was out of sight, I pushed the grey fabric back and grinned. I stared around me, spinning once slowly, taking in the purple flowers trailing down the side of the buildings and the gutters running with clear rainwater.
A man dressed in a brown brocade and green trousers glanced my way, then carried on two steps, then paused to stare again. I smiled at him, envying the colour of his wardrobe. He stepped across the road with a frown.
I didn’t care. I was free, in another town, and entirely alone. I stepped into the road and followed Thread Ersimmon’s point.
A small street pulled off the main road, covered from the worst of the Tanmer sun and the Ergreen rains by colourful silks hanging between the rooftops. I might have dismissed it for its size, if not for the sheer volume of traffic entering it. I followedthe hum of footfall, and soon the market street pulled into full view. I spied the food first, my lunch of hard bread and cheese sitting unhappily in my stomach knowing the delights that awaited me. Sweet honeyed dates filled a papered box, powdered squares in every colour and scent wafted from trays, fresh herbs sprouted from pots and dried ones hung from the stall rafters. Men, women, and children filled any space left, themselves as colourful as the wares.
My first thought was that it was a blessing the Thread had given me no coin, for I would have spent it all on the pastries heaped in molasses at the first stall. My second thought was that I could run.
A thrill shot through me. Thread Ersimmon had left me here alone. I was out of his control and out of the range of Eavenfold. He had given me nothing to run with, but I had a head start.
The thought sobered quickly. Where would I go, alone, with no money to speak of? Could I find someone who hailed from the Touchlands and promise them something to return me home? I knew nothing of how my parents lived now, if they still lived in that small shepherd’s hut by Torquan or if they’d moved back to Andiz like father had wanted.
As I ruminated on the nature of my entrapment, I trailed through the market, stopping occasionally to take in the scent of a bouquet, or take a closer look at a caged bird. Soon, I’d have to ask for directions, but for now I enjoyed being a woman with no purpose.
Could I convince Seth to run with me? Him, the nephew of the king. I could still barely fathom it. He would not run; for one, he had his Service to complete, and more than that, even if he chose to, they would track him down. He was someone of importance, he couldn’t disappear like I could.
What would I be, then? A bound woman, locked to a Fate I was choosing to ignore. A Fate which would Break if the victorwas to die. Would it Break if he wed another? A Moontouched ghost girl, with no power, and no prospects. What freedom could I seek to gain with nothing to recommend me, and less than, to be an outcast, a stranger to my own home?
It was then that I realised the stares.
I’d noticed a few, of course, from the stall vendors. I’d tried to dismiss them, figuring they were just hoping for a sale. My clothing and hair were unusual, certainly, but I hadn’t realised quitehowout of place I was until a man before me stopped dead in his tracks.
He stared straight at me. Or rather, at my hair. “Myrgh’s grace. You’re one of them,” he said. “Silver blood.”
I gave him my best attempt at a smile and tried to move past him. Myrgh the Teacher, the Scentlands’ Founder, was the quietest of the Five, and I could only hope his countryman would follow in those dainty footsteps and keep his voice down.
He didn’t move. “But you’re a girl.”
“Excuse me,” I said, and pushed past him. But his remark had already stopped the others around him, and nearly a dozen people now stared at me. I tried to smile despite my racing heart. “Sorry,” I said, moving through the group as I pulled my hood back up.
I weaved through the surprised throngs of shoppers, and a couple of people protested as I fumbled along. I’d forgotten how much of a freak I was. White-haired and white-eyed, I’d never fit in here. I scoffed at my own stupidity: I’d never fit inanywhere.
