A Snap-Dragon Stolen Chapter 5: (part 2)

Waverly stopped first at the practice arena where the duel would be held, her face sponged with red, and her hair springing into a wild mane. Almost a minute later, Lark arrived as well, and she immediately doubled over, resting her palms on her knees.

“You know,” she wheezed, “I thought we were going to make preparations.”

“We are,” Waverly said. She swept back her hair and adjusted the pig.

“I meant preparations as in shopping for materials. I’m not a mage. I use physical things to fight.” Lark took a deep breath and stood straight again, looking at the sky for Cadence’s shimmering silhouette.

For a moment, Waverly cupped her chin in her free hand. Then her smile turned sheepish, and Misty slid further up Waverly’s sleeve. Lark swore she heard the serpent chuckle.

“Well, Dorian said he was going to pay for your materials, so I figured I’d just prepare you for everything else. You know, so you have less stuff sprung on you all at once.”

Lark’s jaw fell open. “I can’t let Dorian pay for it.”

“Why not?”

Sometimes, Lark found the other fields of magic study very annoying. She scowled as gruesomely as possible and threw her chin up in indignance. “Because then he’ll know what spells I’m using,” she said. And though she wouldn’t admit it, Lark was not keen on accepting Dorian’s charity either. She didn’t even want to duel him in the first place.

She’d said enough to convince Waverly though, and that was what mattered. The blonde girl scratched her head and stared at the ground.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Waverly said. “How about I show you around the arena first, and then we go shopping? If you keep track of the money, you can have Dorian repay you for it.”

At the last comment, the urge to hit something swelled in Lark’s chest, but she stifled it and sighed. It wouldn’t be hard to just not tell Dorian how much she’d spent. After an exaggerated shrug, she gestured at the open dueling arena and smiled for Waverly’s sake.

“I guess we can start here then.”

Waverly’s explanation of the dueling arena was an hailstorm of excess words. From the scholarship competition years ago, Lark already knew the basics of a full fight, so only Waverly’s chatter about benches and waiting areas was new.

In theory, a points duel was simple: the more magical attacks which hit the opponent in ten minutes, the more points. And while forcing a foe out of the ring earned extra points, the chance of hitting them while outside, and thereby losing points, was too great for such a strategy to be worth pursuing.

The arena itself was just a cobblestone square in the center of a block of businesses. In fact, only the clean, wooden benches and painted white circle marked any difference between this space and any other back-alley courtyard. The two shorter benches just inside the alley entrance were reserved for waiting duelists.

“Don’t worry about the bench rules too much though,” Waverly said, putting a hand over her eyes and looking towards the sky. “Dorian will probably make lots of mean, gruff comments to make sure you get it right.”

Lark rolled her eyes and set her mouth in a straight line. “That’s very encouraging.”

“I excel at encouragement. Now let’s start shopping. Dorian meant to track you down around noon.” Then, with a twirl and a skip, Waverly waltzed out of the courtyard. Despite her bright hair, she disappeared into the blackness of the connecting alley before Lark remembered she was to follow. After a quick glance at the sky to make sure Cadence was keeping up, she hurried after Waverly, trying not to notice how much her ankles ached after running all the way from the butcher’s.

The two girls emerged onto a side street of the greater market. One street to the left, piles of people and dragons floundered and beelined through the holiday crowd. Even from the distance, Lark could pinpoint a few browsers dressed in their black and white uniforms, as they stood out from the pastel dyes that most people wore.

By contrast, this side street was mostly empty. A few shops and stands had opened, their coverings fluttering in the slight breeze, but even those businesses faded the further they stood from the main street. A look towards the right showed Lark a dusty, forlorn street composed of greys and browns and the occasional dumpy green.

Wincing slightly, she took a step towards the busier street. Or she tried to, anyways. Waverly’s thick index finger whipped in front of her face, pointing in the opposite direction.

“I think we should go that way,” Waverly announced. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll stumble across a hidden gem of a shop. There could be a place out there with exotic spices from across the desert and the Middle Sea!”

“Even if there were, it would be an absurdly expensive shop. I’d prefer to stick with what I know, thank you very much.” Gently nudging Waverly’s arm out of the way, Lark pushed towards the main street, only for Waverly to spin around and whack Lark with the dead pig.

“No,” Waverly said. “We’re going that way, and it’s final.” She smirked, her eyes narrowing to gleaming, blue slits. “Besides, Dorian is paying.” As she marched past towards the drab end of the street, Waverly let the pig dangle, and it nearly brushed Lark’s skin.

Someday, Lark swore, she would figure out how to avoid meeting Waverly’s methods of persuasion, whether the shorter girl did them on purpose or not. After a moment of cringing, Lark sighed and trudged away from the bustle.

It took a few minutes, but Waverly’s prediction did come true. A weather-beaten sign carved from a garishly tan wood hung above the girls’ heads, swinging and creaking in the wind. A vague bundle of herbs was depicted on it, which prompted Waverly to shoot Lark a grin.

“What did I say?” she asked.

“You said we’d find a hidden gem,” Lark grumbled. She crossed her arms just as a Cadence landed and watched the dragon fold her wings in close. “We have yet to decide if this shop is actually a gem, or if it was just hidden.”

Waverly snorted, opening the door with one great fling and striding inside. For a moment, Lark considered leaving her there, but the whistle which drifted back out the half open door caught Lark’s ear, and she pushed Cadence inside.

A mere glance told Lark that Waverly had been right in every aspect. A table spilling over with dried flowers and leaves sat in the center of the shop, and a slip of paper glued to the edge marked the selection as half-priced. All about the walls rested jars of color, their lids left open so that the stew of smells could tantalize each customer. Even the dust in the air was nothing compared to the weight of a thousand odors.

Lark’s gaze drifted like a snail, and she was at a loss to describe even half of the shop’s wares. Her mouth dropped open, letting the scents tease her taste buds.

“Alright,” she breathed. “I admit you were right, Waverly. This is quite the hidden gem.”

Waverly only smiled.

Cracking her knuckles, Lark scanned the room a second time. A small bell sat on the center table, so Lark reached out and rang it, assuming it would call the shopkeeper.

A shrill, crinkly voice pierced the air right after the first ring. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Though Lark heard no footsteps, the voice’s owner appeared seconds later, and Lark thought the lady matched the voice perfectly. Her skin, though not nearly as dark as Dorian’s, still possessed far more color than Lark’s or Waverly’s, and despite the tone, every blue and purple vein that criss crossed her arms bulged in plain sight. The woman’s hair was pitch black with hardly a line of grey, but that did nothing to lessen her age.

“So?” the woman said. “You called?”

Lark did not hear; she was too busy staring at the dragon that floated through the doorstep. She’d never seen a creature quite like it. It was serpentine and slightly larger than Misty. Curling whiskers flowed from the dragon’s snout, and snowy fur stretched like a fox’s sideburns around the dragon’s face. For a moment, she wondered why meeting this kind of dragon was so different from the one in the castle basement.

“Miss!”

Lark broke from her trance. She shook herself and blinked, whispering an apology.

“Did you come to buy my plants or stare at my dragon?” the woman asked. “I mean, I know people don’t often hatch weather-turners here, and especially not the Eastern variety, but surely you’ve seen pictures in books?”

Pink rose to Lark’s cheeks. “Yes, but, er, it’s different to see a dragon in person,” she stammered. “And I did come in to buy, Ma’am.”

“I don’t see anything picked out,” the shopkeeper said.

“I meant to ask what some of the imported spices did before making any decisions.”

The woman smirked. “What’s the occasion? Looking to dull someone’s senses? Avoid getting drugged at the taverns?”

Ignoring the explosive fit of giggles that Waverly spewed from behind, Lark tried to match the woman’s look. “No. I was set up to duel someone, and no one is giving me the option of saying no.” She glared daggers at Waverly after this, and the other girl only laughed louder.

“Ah, and what is your intention for the duel?”

“I’m going to throw it.”

Waverly shut up. She was immediately at Lark’s side, shoving her elbow in Lark’s side and dragging the taller girl down by the ear.

“You can’t throw the duel!” Waverly hissed.

At this, Lark only raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t even heard him issue the actual challenge. Just buy what you need to win, and then you can decide whether you’ll lose on purpose or not, okay? Besides, if you don’t use something, you can keep it for self-defense.”

What was with Waverly’s insistence on self-defense? First, it had been the knife, and now additional herbs for magic. Lark had half a mind to ask right then, and she even took a sharp breath to speak, but she did not want to mention her troubles in front of the shopkeeper. This was a private matter.

She pretended that Waverly had said nothing and jerked back to an upright stance.

“On second thought,” Lark said, “I might try to win.” She pulled three copper coins from the pouch strapped around her waist and held them up. “What will this buy?”

The shopkeeper grinned. “Thrifty, aren’t you? No matter. This old lady will help you win your duel.” She leaned over the counter, resting her chin in her palms. “So? What sort of person are you dueling against? How strong is the foe?”

“He’s a mage, and we should be of about equal strength,” Lark said, rubbing the back of her neck and staring at a jar nearby filled with tiny white crystals. “Is that sugar? Why do you stock sugar?”

“I don’t,” said the shopkeeper. Turning her head to follow Lark’s gaze, the woman frowned, revealing a new set of lines on her forehead. “But that there is Desert Dust. It’s dreadfully expensive, but someone’s been buying it for the past decade at least, so I keep it in stock. I don’t suggest using it in your duel.”

“If it’s as expensive as you say, I wouldn’t think of it,” Lark replied. “Now let’s have a look at those foreign spices.”