Page 27 of To Touch A Silent Fury
I can’t believe I thought I could ever run away. One glance and they’d ship me off back to Eavenfold with a prayer to their Founder. One less oddity to deal with.
At the end of the market street, the tangle of goods disappeared as the walkway widened out and then ended, and I found myself on a clean and beautiful promenade. Before me, a wondrous view: the edge of the Oktorok Lake, the site of the greatvictory of the Five. The white wall, with pots containing all manner of flowers, pinned the vista as the overcast sky deepened the colour of the water to a deep grey-blue. Beyond, small boats dotted like sheep.
Across the water, the Isle de Courvin waited. A large and lush island, only a few minutes away by boat.
“Wine, miss?”
I turned to find a purveyor idling before his cart. His hair was thin and greying, and his vest was a lurid shade of orange. The cart was open at the back beside a sleeping, ancient-looking pony; I spied a small keg and a few dusty bottles.
“No, thank you,” I said, looking away from him as I checked around to make sure no one else had noticed me.
“I have the finest vintages,” he replied without feeling. “I am sure I can find something to your taste.”
I met his eyes, only for a second, and his greying brows shot halfway up his forehead. “Thank you, but I have no need for wine. Could you tell me where to find Medrilla?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, like a flapping fish I’d once seen back in my village. “Your eyes.”
I grimaced, and touched my cloak to pull it further down.
He shook his head. “Please, miss. I meant no offence. I’ve never seen a Brother in person. Or a sister, as it may be.”
“Sorry to frighten you.”
“You don’t,” he replied, moving forwards to stand right before me. “Please, let me show you my wares, moon sister.”
“I have no coin, sir.”
He shook his head even more vigorously than before. “No charge. For you, no charge.”
How interesting. He must have heard some grand tales of the Brotherhood to be so generous with me. I stepped forwards, and he nodded encouragingly, scrambling back towards his cart.
I picked up the nearest small clay cup with a waiting sample. “Where do you get your wine?”
He climbed into the cart and pulled something from the very back. “From everywhere,” he said. “From the Cavelot merle and franc to the Vintarrun ciante, even to the dusted lands of Essadir to acquire the vrodaphne. I have travelled to the edges of each known land and brought back only the finest.”
I flinched at the mention of Essadir. The city in the south of the Twin Lands was only a day or two’s ride from my village. I knew this man only spoke of its grapes, but it was so rare to hear of my homeland that it made me oddly nervous.
“Even the Cloven?” I knew little of wine, but I knew the Cloven to be an unfriendly climate for crop growth, even less friendly to merchants.
“Of course,” he said without pause. “Everywhere, miss.”
It was some tactic, I was certain. Some way of adding to his worldliness.
The merchant jumped back from his cart. He pointed to the cup in my hand and shook his head once more, tutting. “Not that one, that’s swill. Watered-down blended Vin de Scent.”
I chuckled uncomfortably, scraping a fingernail against the rough clay. “It is your stock, is it not?”
He shrugged. “It is for the punters who come for the free wine. You are not that, moon sister.”
I smiled, looking at the green bottle in his hand, stoppered with a waxed cork. “Which is that one, then?”
His eyes flashed. “A one-of-a-kind vintage. This is wine fit for your splendour.”
“You have much experience with the Brotherhood?”
“Little,” he said, pulling the cork off. He grabbed the cup from me, his bare hand brushing my own as he dashed the old wine to the dusty floor and poured a cup of the new wine into it. He looked up, and his face changed.
I had taken two steps back.
