I

Provocation's Feast (con't)

In the same lush country of Piraviel as this conversation between Fox and Akers took place, but about a hundred miles east and only slightly north of the Millbush Creek, lied a tiny village called Merritown. 
It was within the small, unkempt gates and abandoned towers of Merritown that the inner city glowed. Noon-bells rang throughout alleys between cottage houses, signaling time for the market stands to go up around the village square.  Children giggled and danced while minstrels played for coin, women bought roses, boys stole red apples to give to the girls they fancied: a true test of their interest. Save yellow or green fruit, however. It was not good luck to be given one by a schoolmate in this way.

As stands went up and things to be sold were being set out, a young girl slipped through the shadows towards the bustle. If she was seen, she was not recognized. No one there knew enough to tell you her name if they were asked.

She had one, nevertheless. It was Rynn, and she was just about sixteen years old. If you knew her well you might say she was the spitting image of her father with her natural red hair, pale skin, and freckles over the bridge of her nose; or maybe you'd observe the fact that she looked awfully cautious for strolling about the village square on a regular afternoon.

But, like you, no one around Rynn knew her at this point, and no one cared to pay much attention.

Fortunately, this was just what she wanted. 

The girl tied the end of her braid and smoothed the skirt of her ragged blue dress, approaching a stand displaying handmade jewelry. "These are simply beautiful," Rynn gasped in a well-conjured voice of awe. She stroked her hand gently over a line of necklaces.

"They are nice, aren't they?" the woman behind the stand smiled pleasantly. She had a flawless face, but she was very large, and her short-cuffed sleeves looked painfully too tight on her plump upper arms. 

"Who made them?" Rynn asked the woman with deceivingly bright eyes.

The woman's cheeks showed dimples. "My ma and I," she replied, and as Rynn reinforced her compliments, she became flattered. 

"Well, ma'am, these look absolutely perfect for what I'm wanting. I need a present for my own mother. Her birthday is soon."  If anyone listening knew the faintest of Rynn's past, they would know both of her parents had been dead for years.  "Do you have a necklace like this, but in a different color?" Rynn picked up a long chain with metal beads woven through it.  

The woman scratched her dark head of hair with a stubby finger. "Let me see here." She crouched down on her knees to look below the display for more stock.

Rynn wasted no time. She hastily snatched a golden necklace on the very edge of the stand and placed it in her empty coin pouch, which was tied to her belt. After this she slid over the next few pieces of jewelry in the display to cover the gap she'd created just in time for the woman to stand again and notice absolutely nothing.

She set down a bin filled with her craft of jewelry with a thud! before wiping her forehead. Rynn's eyes flitted between the woman and the barrel of bracelets and handmade finery. 

"Pick out what you like," the woman nodded between a few heavy breaths. 

Rynn dug for a while, pretending to find interest in a few items, until she brought forth a green and black bracelet. "Oh...well...maybe she'd like this better..."

"That one's, eh, twenty gold."

Rynn bit her lip. "Do you have it in purple? I-I don't mean to bother you..."

"No, no worry, I'll look," the woman assured, squatting again.

This time Rynn took the liberty of swiping two silver rings and a bracelet, tucking them safely in her pouch. 

When the woman popped to the surface again, Rynn took a step back. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have to be home soon. May I come back tomorrow and settle on something?"

Disappointed, but understanding, the woman waved her off. "Of course, dear. Get on home."

Rynn turned and fled into the shadows, making her way down the streets with a smug grin on her face. Too easy this time.  She swiftly cut through a few back alleys until she came upon the path that passed under the stone bridge connecting East and West Merritown.

Cut into the stone was an entry behind a wooden door, always locked, occasionally barricaded from the other side. No one searched the place after the tales of thievery, murders, and these happenings went divulged about the tunnels beneath the bridge.  

Rynn had no key for this door, but she did have the next best thing. She simply knocked once firmly, and it was opened for her. She slipped in quietly, glancing behind her shoulder.  This was her home, and no one could know of it.