Page 33 of Stitches
“Highwaymen,” Dreya said, as though dismissing the playful antics of a child. With a swift grip and yank on each of the arrow shafts, she removed them and tossed them to the ground.
Levi had heard the carriages were often attacked by highwaymen, but the doors were enchanted to only open upon arrival in Emerald and once they returned home. Highwaymen could batter the structure and horses all they wanted, and they’d never get at what lay inside.
The wood beyond the barrier must be full of cutthroats. Some even wondered if a thieves’ guild had been built somewhere beyond the barrier, since it was a place most decent people feared to travel.
After getting everyone to quiet down, Yentriss kept her eyes on thecrowd to keep the peace, while Dreya threw open the first carriage’s doors to reveal the contents within. Each crate was marked according to what lay inside, and Dreya would excitedly call out the item, for Yentriss to more calmly call forward who could claim it.
A few disagreements on orders arose but were quickly squashed by Yentriss’s glare or Dreya’s mediating. For the most part, this monthly occurrence was old hat for everyone—they were simply excited for anything that had come from the outside world.
“Two dozen bolts of Emerald silk!” Dreya called when the carriages were nearly empty.
“Daedlys and Gordoc!” Yentriss announced, glancing at her list. “Even split. Colors to be bartered.”
Levi hadn’t seen Daedlys among the others. The translucent man was able to blend in easily just about anywhere, but his floating form was very apparent when moving swiftly. He might have been a glider monkey leaping from one tree to another, he moved so fast to get ahead of Gordoc.
“To bebartered, banshee,” Gordoc huffed, rushing to catch up. “Getting there first doesn’t give you first pick.”
“I’m not sure you should get any,” Daedlys said without looking behind him, “since you were so certain when telling shoppers there might not be any silk this month.”
Gordoc’s fishlike lips gawked in offense.
“Relax, gentlemen,” Dreya appeased, prying open the lid to take stock of the contents. She had a funny little hat on again today, only this time it was more like a beret. “Seems there’s an even mix. Green.” She passed them each two bolts. “Blue.” She passed out more, so on and so on through many colors of the rainbow—something else Levi wished he could see in real life instead of only reading about them or admiring pictures, but the sun was needed for that.
Dreya continued through many bolts of fabric, too many for Daedlysor Gordoc to carry, but they each had a small cart to load.
“Finally, one additional red and one cream.”
“Red,” Daedlys and Gordoc said in unison, following their declarations with menacing glares at each other.
“I require the red for a special order,” Daedlys declared.
“So do I,” Gordoc insisted.
“Gentlemen,” Dreya said soothingly, “could you cut each bolt halfway and share?”
“No,” they overlapped again.
Yentriss’s sigh was audible even from where Levi and Ashmedai watched from the back, though some of the crowd had thinned, not waiting to see what might remain in the depths of the final carriage.
“Well then.” Dreya held out a sideways fist, and within her grasp conjured two thin sticks like incense. “Whoever draws the long straw wins the red.” She had enacted similar simple games to settle disputes, which Levi thought both ingenious and endearing.
Daedlys and Gordoc each claimed a straw, seemingly pleased with their choices, and when Dreya gave a nod, they both pulled.
Daedlys’s was the long one.
“Red goes to Daedlys!” Dreya declared.
Daedlys shimmered in his preening almost enough to go invisible.
Gordoc grumbled but accepted the cream.
“Just a few unexpected items for this month,” Dreya said next.
She mentioned spices, scraps of leather, and several pieces of jewelry, most of which only had one person interested, though a cluster of arrows with green feathers were argued over and eventually awarded to a lottery winner.
“The last item is a music box with a white horse spinning inside.” Dreya opened it for the crowd. The box was small enough that it only just filled her palms as she held it out, made of painted wood in green, blue, and white. Inside was indeed a white horse, rearing up on its hindlegs as it rotated to a tinkling melody.
“For no bard is humble,
