A snarl followed by a squawk drew Azhar, Ellio, and Jule’s attention to a linlao and some other sort of creature, furred and baring large pointed teeth, as the latter ripped it’s restraint from its owner’s hands and lunged at the linlao.

  The linlao, a brown goose type from what Azhar could tell, scampered onto a stall to escape the other creature, despite reaching twice the aggressor’s size. Shouts and yells ensued from both parties, and then the vendor of the now ruined stall joined the mix, swatting at the already spooked linlao.

  Ellio ran past Azhar and Jule, bending down and picking up rolling fruits and vegetables for the vendor. Azhar followed suit, picking up some weird sort of mushroom. She’d never seen it before, and took a bite.

  “Hey! Are you helping or stealing?” Jule snapped at her, yanking the thing away and studying the very obvious bite mark.

  “I’ve never had it before. I wanted to see if it was good.” Azhar munched the oddly fluffy texture, debating if the lack of taste could be considered enjoyable or not.

  Jule sighed, “If we bury it with other things, maybe the seller won’t notice.” She proceeded to pick up a fruit and then stole another from Ellio’s hands.

  The aggressive creature broke free from its owner’s grasp a second time, snapping at the tailfeathers of the linlao as it leapt off the stall and opened its small wings and glided towards a nearby building overhang. It pulled itself up and took several quick hops onto the roof.

  Then the owner of the shop came out, yelling at the linlao, its owner and then when the aggressive creature growled and barked while trying to get to the linlao, the shop keeper turned and yelled at them, too.

  Azhar found the whole thing rather amusing. The aggressive creature owner yelled at the linlao owner, who yelled at the shop keeper, who yelled at both of them and the linlao, who’s owner told him to stop yelling at her linlao. Then the stall owner joined in once more after receiving Ellio’s help, yelling at all three of them.

  “What are they even doing?” Jule shook her head, placing her hands on her hips.

  “It seems,” a voice from behind startled both of them, “the young housling is in need of more training. A good guard, but unwieldy if left alone.”

  Azhar and Jule both turned to a man, tall and lean, wearing the adornments of merchants from across the seas and the riches of a successful one. He smiled, looking down at them before returning to laugh at the carnage as the supposed housling wrestled free of a fishing net someone tossed on it and once more tried to get to the linlao.

  “Quite the accent you have.” Jule’s mouth turned into a half-smirk.

  Azhar blinked between Jule and the man. What’s an accent?

  “Yes. Your Anish has a lot of little,” the man waved a few fingers into a circular motion, “annoying crinkly sounds. Most of us merchants would have an accent.”

  “Hmmmm? Is that so?” Jule fully turned towards the man now. “And what does someone from Thelccea need from us?”

  Azhar cocked an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t sure what caused the sudden shift in Jule’s demeanor, but the snippy tone and accusatory looks put Azhar on edge. She flexed her fingers and looked the young man over. She could take him, if necessary.

  “Ooooh, from Thelccea, hmm? You knew so quickly?” He smiled, all his focus now on Jule.

  Azhar turned, scanning the crowd. Ellio helped the vendor sort his fallen goods into a few baskets. While the market was loud, she could also yell for him, if need be. But Jule nudged her, giving her a quick glance.

  Though what that glance was supposed to mean, Azhar didn’t know. So she readied several fingers and planned to aim at the man’s throat should the need arise. Humans, she’d found, didn’t like their throats crushed.

  “People from Thelccea tend to struggle with the pronunciation of hard sounds in Anish.” Jule shrugged, “and that,” she pointed to a jewel on the man’s headpiece, “is a symbol for Thelccea’s envoys. Ask a harder question next time.”

  The man’s eyes darkened to her, and Azhar stepped between them. The movement seemed to catch the man off-guard and he pulled back a step, putting up his hands as if to give up. “You are correct. I am Thelccean.” He laughed, and Azhar wondered what, exactly, he laughed for.

  “Azhar,” Jule sighed, pushing her arm back, “you embarrass me.”

  “What?” What did she do? Did she not do good? “He could’ve attacked?”

  Jule stared at her for a long moment. “People don’t attack each other in the middle of the road. He’s just trying some intimidation tactic.” And then under her breath, “obviously.”

  “Did it work?” The man put his hands behind his back, stepping back towards them.

  “No.” Jule said in a flatter voice than Azhar thought possible. “What do you want?”

  The man paused, eyes looking Jule over before flicking up. “I am in a line of business, you see, to know everything that happens while my people are at port. And word of you three poking around has reached my ears. Looking for Thelcceans.”

  Ellio came up behind them, pulling Jule back a step. He towered over the man, eyes dark and lacking any of their usual warmth. But the man didn’t shrink back, only smiling a little wider instead, a hand falling to where he likely concealed some sort of weapon. Judging by the bulge beneath his shirt, Azhar could suppose a knife.

  “And?”

  “And I want to know why.” The Thelccean man’s eyes slitted as his smile widened. After holding a stare for a little too long, he shrugged, releasing the tension he created. “It’s my job to know, after all.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He waved at someone beyond them and Azhar turned to see the vendor Ellio helped waving back. So, he’s a protector. Azhar knew the type. Though she didn’t know why or from where she’d seen the type before.

  “Ah,” Ellio nodded to the information, eyes lightening, “just doing your job, then? I see, sorry about that.” Ellio flashed him a genuine smile.

  Jule rubbed a few fingers against her forehead. “You trust people too quickly, Ellio! We’ve discussed this. You need to stay intimidating until I give you the signal!”

  The man laughed and Ellio shrank a little, “sorry, Jules.”

  “I think you did a good job.” Azhar nodded to her own words to give them further credibility. “Very scary.”

  In truth, even her warning bells would’ve triggered if it was anyone other than Ellio. His size and stature was already caution worthy, but steady eyes and, really, anything other than a smile on him could send a nice variety of threatening messages.

  Maybe if she shifted to—

  A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose. She looked up, white clouds plastering every meter of the sky and small flecks floating around them. She put her hands up to catch one, letting the large thing fall into them. The cold chilled her for only a moment.

  “I thought it didn’t snow in Haasundra?”

  “What? What snow?” Jule called to her, the three of them standing five or six meters away turning back towards Azhar. “Were you not listening?”

  “Huh?” Azhar looked up, the sun beating over her, not a cloud in the sky. “But it was snowing?”

  Ellio’s eyes scrunched together, running back towards her. “There’s no snow, Azhar.”

  “But…”

  Where did it go?

  She looked back towards her cupped hands and at the nothingness in them. What did she expect to see in them? She looked back to Jule and the man, standing awkwardly at a distance. When had they moved away? Or had she been the one to move?

  “Azhar,” Ellio cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “Do you remember? Paulul is taking us to their main boat.”

  Who was Palul? And why were they going? She looked back to the man, assuming he was the person in question. Did she forget his introduction, too? “Hmm, is that so?”

  Ellio bit his lip. He wanted to say something, she could tell. But he bit back whatever it was, and said something easier instead. “Are you coming?”

  “Why do you do that?” She walked beside him as he turned back towards the others.

  “Do… what?”

  “Hold back. You always have something to say, but change the words before speaking.”

  He tensed beside her. She snuck a glance and saw him bite his lip again. So, he once more would say nothing. If she planned to ever make him happy, Azhar would need to know what it was he always held back. She could work on it though.

  “Why are we going with Palul?” Azhar asked once she gave Ellio the time to say something if he so desired.

  “Ah,” Ellio sighed in relief, “Jules said we wanted information about magical imbalances. He said that someone on their ship knows more than him about this sort of thing. So we’re going with him.”

  Ellio stepped ahead of her, and the water sparkling in the distance blinded her. The light wrapped past Ellio, Jule, and Palul. She slowed as the path around her blanketed in snow and water. The crowd around her disappeared with their silence and left her alone in a world of shimmering snow.

  A voice echoed Jule’s face in the nothingness before it rippled back into the water. Someone pulled her hand and her feet danced across the water beneath her feet. It was cold, a hush of winter’s grasp though the ocean’s warmth awaited her.

  A gentle cry, and she hushed the voice, humming for the child of her memories. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make you happy, little fox.”

  The rustles of leaves dropped melted snow into her footprints, rippling across a still ocean she walked across. The snow bent to every ripple, silencing the laps of the water. Smudges of Ellio pulling her along faded in and out of the white. Palul said something, but his voice only echoed off the child’s crying.

  “Where are you,” Azhar sang, “where are you, my little fox?”

  “An imbalance?” An older woman’s voice clicked her tongue, and it yanked Azhar back to reality. “In Thelccea?”

  The woman sat in her stool, red cloth draping over her crossed leg propped on her knee. She pulled a sort of smoke-maker from her mouth, blowing out a sweet smoke to the side opposite of where Palul stood.

  They stood in a small, dim room which swayed occasionally. The door behind her met a few wooden steps leading to the deck of a ship. Cloth and musky incense waffed from every part of the room. Along the walls stood a medicine cabinet, names of herbs and powders scribbled into the covers of drawers. A bookshelf of messily placed books and papers creaked beside it and a mortar and pestle sat dirtied upon a table.

  Ah. She wasn’t in the market anymore. She must’ve forgotten again.

  What did she forget?

  Mmm, it didn’t really matter.

  “I haven’t heard of anything of the sort. You said you were… doing research?” Palul raised an eyebrow at Jule, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Yesssss, I’ve already told you,” Jule huffed, tapping a foot. “I’m studying the effects of—”

  “Why are you lying?” Azhar asked, rocking her head to the side.

  Jule spun around. “What?? What are you saying?” She hardened a glare at Azhar. “And what, only now you decide to join the conversation, and this is the first thing you say?”

  “Ah, your odd friend decides to grace us with her honesty, I see.” Palul’s mouth spread into a wide smile. “A lie, you say?”

  “Ah, she didn’t mean that. She gets confused sometimes.” Ellio cut in, stepping between a boiling Jule and Azhar.

  “Ignore her. I’m the one doing the research, she just tags—”

  “Do you know anything to stop a Guardian Spirit from purifying?” Azhar asked, blankly. “They’re combusting from purity, here in Lanria. We’re trying to fix—”

  “Shut uuuuuuuuppppp!!” Jule slammed a hand over Azhar’s mouth, having pushed Ellio out of the way to get to her. “What are you doooooiiiing?”

  “Why dance around the problem? We can just ask them.” Azhar said, pulling Jule’s hand from her mouth.

  “They’re… what?” The old woman dropped her smoke-maker, and Palul froze, a hand gripping a table behind the woman. “How… how is this possible?”

  After an awkwardly long silence, in which Azhar gave both Ellio and Jule plenty of time to think of some smart thing to say, she stepped forward. “Taiga said the Guardian Spirits are purifying, losing all their corruption, even though they eat it.”

  The old woman jerked her eyes up to her. “Wait, they eat what?”

  Jule blinked at her. “They eat corruption.”

  “Who does…?” Palul furrowed his eyebrows together.

  “The… Guardian Spirits?” Ellio took a step beside Azhar.

  “What are you talking about?” The old woman picked her smoke-maker up off the ground, tapped it a few times against the desk, and stuck it back in her mouth, taking a deep breath. When she released it, she narrowed her eyes at them. “Guardian Spirits eat purity. Not corruption.”