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THREE
JENNA
I watch as Mr. Malaki displays his artifacts, using magic and sales tactics to draw in the crowd. He’s a skinny, older man. One wouldn’t expect him to be so flashy, especially not when what he is doing is dangerous on this continent.
It’s no surprise he came here instead of Oshta, where he would be prosecuted for such a skill.
I watch as he throws around the fire, compliments the women in the crowd, and highlights his trinkets with beautiful words. While I may judge his overcompensating display, I can’t help but be entranced.
The crowd becomes denser as I’m shuffled forward. I catch a closer glimpse of his artifacts and feel my heart drop. I fumble with the two coins in my pocket and sigh.
I eyed a small urn on the table, painted purple with jewels lining the top. Next to it lies a bracelet made from what appear to be rubies and emeralds. The gems may mimic the flashy display Malaki has put on, but some of the talking sticks and wands catch my eye as well. Humans can’t do anything with wands, but some believe they protect your home against the orc’s brutality.
“A lineage of royalty,” Malaki shouts, picking up the ruby and emerald bracelet. “Passed down.” He lights it on fire, and the crowd gasps in astonishment as it returns to view unscathed. “To you!”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. I don’t understand how this crowd falls for his tricks. Just because a braceletmayhave once been worn by royalty didn’t mean any of us were going to find our freedom anytime soon, not under the orcish rule, at least.
“You there!” I hear Malaki say.
I look up, catch his gaze, and point to my chest. “Me?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, you. Come, come.” He beckons me over, and I shift through the crowd, looking at the disgusted faces of women begging for his attention.
He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled. I can’t decide if his missing tooth creeps me out or intrigues me. He shoos the crowd away and walks me into a tent behind his table.
“Welcome,” he said, motioning slowly to other artifacts in his tent.
I scan the area and see large boxes and chests. Some are made of fine metals, others of iron. A table of keys lies in front of me. I wonder what he must be hiding back here. What could be more valuable than what he already has on the table outside?
“Come, come.” He motions for me to follow him to the back. I step forward slowly, skeptical of his reasonings for calling me here.
“Why did you pick me?” I ask hesitantly, watching the chests pass as I meander behind him.
“You see …” he turns and motions to my necklace.
I grab it with my hands, hoping it’ll disappear from his line of sight. I raise my eyebrows.
“You want my necklace?” I ask.
He nods, and his eyes light up. “I wonder what mystical powers it carries.”
“There are no mystical powers,” I say firmly. “My father gave it to me, and it’s not up for grabs.”
“A gorgeous polished blue stone in a silver setting,” he adds, “always has something mystical behind it.”
I shake my head and repeat, “not for sale.”
He nods and continues to lead me deeper into the tent. “To answer you, girl.” He pauses and turns around again. “I sense you have a desire, a craving.”
“Craving for what?” I ask, confused.
He flutters his fingers in the air. “To escape.”
He continues to walk deeper into the tent, and I stay frozen, pondering his statement. Do I want to escape? If so, escape from what and to where? Granted, shoveling dung and hay every day while recalling what little memories of my father I have left isn’t ideal, and neither is taking care of my sick mother or being ruled by orcs.
I watch Malaki reach a tiny chest in the back of the tent. He takes a key off his necklace and chuckles lowly while bending down to open it. I look at the table of keys at the tent opening and wonder why he carriesthisone around his neck.
The box is small and made of mahogany with runes carved in it. I remember studying runes briefly when I was younger, but I can’t make out their meanings now.
