Shaman's Crossing
She and the scout dismounted outside the same building that my father had entered. The scout had a clear, carrying voice, and we all heard him tell her that he would join her as soon as he’d delivered his report to the commander. He gave her some coins and told her she might go down the street to the bazaar and get some sweets or fresh caralin juice or ribbons for her hair, but not to go beyond the line of stalls there. “Yes, Papa. I will.” She promised her father quickly, her eagerness to get to the market evident in her voice. The scout glanced over at my cluster of lads and scowled at us absentmindedly, and then hurried up the steps into the command quarters.
His daughter was left alone in the street.
In such a circumstance, I know my sisters would have been terrified. My parents would never have left Elisi and little Yaril in a barracks town without an adult chaperone. I wondered if her father did not care for her. Then, as she strode smiling down the street, heading past the knot of boys and toward the vendors’ stores on the market square just outside the outpost gates, I saw that she was not frightened or cowed in the least. She walked with confidence and grace, intent on exploring the many delights of the bazaar. My gaze followed her.
“Look at her, will you?” one of the older boys hissed to his friend.
I looked from one leering young face to the other, confused. “Her charms?” I asked.
“Picking what?” I boldly asked. There was no hinny to be seen, only the girl walking past us. I was confused and resolved to get an explanation. I did not know at that time that the older boys would resent my bold assumption of not only equality but also superiority to these sons of common soldiers. Raven brayed a laugh out, and then said to me earnestly, “Why, to picking out her friends, of course. You seen how she looked at you? She wants to be your friend. And you want her to be friends with us, right, ’cause we’re your friends, too. Whyn’t you just go out there and catch her by the hand and lead her back here to us?”
The girl walked like a gazelle going down to water. She was intent on her quest, and yet both wary and aware of what was around her. She did not look at us, but I knew she had seen us. She probably knew we were talking about her. I darted out a few steps into the street to intercept her, and when she looked at me, I smiled at her. She smiled down at me. It was all the encouragement I needed. I hurried up to her, and she halted in the street to hear my words.
“Hello. My friends want you to come and meet them.” Such an ingenuous way for me to greet her. I had no idea I was leading her into a vile trap.
I think she did. She looked past me at the loitering boys inside the alley mouth, and then back at me again. I think she saw I was innocent of their scheme. She smiled again but her words dismissed me. “I don’t think so. I’m going to the market. Goodbye.” Her words were clear and unaccented, and obviously intended to reach my playmates’ ears.
She did not react with alarm, or take her hand from mine. She considered me kindly for a moment and then offered, “You’re a friendly little cub, aren’t you? Why don’t you come to the market with me instead?”
Her invitation instantly attracted me more than the company of the boys. I loved going to market almost as much as my sisters did. Exotic goods and trinkets demanded to be handled and explored. Market food was always exciting; I loved Plains food, the spicy root-paste rolled in terna seed, sweet and peppery meat sticks, and little buns of salty ember-bread, each with a lump of carrada in the middle. My gaze met her gray eyes and I found myself nodding and smiling. I forgot the boys and their stick-knife game. For the moment, I ignored the knowledge that not only Parth but also my father would disapprove of me wandering off with a half-breed Plains girl to saunter through the market.