A Cloud on the Horizon

With the help of Cousin Char and the rest of his relatives, Hektor and Agnes spent the next morning planning their journey to Trelle and beyond. Agnes fretted over how much it would cost to charter passage to Vinvintin Harbor, the easiest entry to Giant Country, but Uncle Dorian assured her they merely needed to find Brother Max down at the shipyard and he'd take care of it from there.

Provisions also came easily since Cousin Mel the perfumist already needed to send a shipment up to Trelle. A light cart was easier to secure the delicate phials and there were plenty of summer vegetables in season to send along with them estimating a ten-day trip to the port city. Especially after Hektor relayed the story of how the two met, the Tumlin Family was happy to help and urged Agnes to enjoy the day in River's Bend.

Even outside of the hot summers that made the day-long hike a pain, Agnes hadn't really come to the market herself many times in recent years. She liked the energy of seeing all the people moving to and fro. If only for a little while even if her rural home had its allure. The stalls changed frequently, but the atmosphere was always much the same. Produce, crafts, charms, and the odd wandering peddler with strange goods from afar. Or trinkets he assured prospective buyers were found in ruins left by the Fair Folk.

One such merchant was recounting his certainly-true tale of finding an ornate dagger to a young man, describing a journey to a region Agnes thought she recognized. As the peddler filled in details of tumbling structures and treacherous paths a buried memory stirred deep within Agnes. The emblem on the dagger's sheath confirmed it. The location the peddler was describing wasn't some lost city of the Fair Folk. It was a logging village not too far from her home, one that was burned by soldiers in a conflict long ago for allegedly harboring criminals. One of Agnes's neighbors lost two sons that day.

She shook off the memory and took a moment of gratitude things weren't so violent these days. It had been a long time since the village sons traipsed off to war. Even if soft times led to foolhardy quests like her son and grandson, those were their choice. Not whipping a bunch of good people into a frenzy over some faraway foe or taking mere boys by force.

Agnes snapped out of her rumination at a commotion going on in the nearby stalls. A thief had swiped their evening meal and was already near the bridge leading out of town. Long and lean, oddly dressed in a fine doublet you'd expect on a noble but unable to afford a skirt to go over short pants Agnes thought looked like bloomers. From a distance her hair seemed to puff up reminiscent of a cat's ears. “Poor girl looks like she needs it.” Agnes mumbled to herself as she watched the merchants give up their chase. “At least she's quick enough for it.”

Agnes made her way to the town temple on a street just off the market square and went inside. She always enjoyed how quiet the compound was, even on a busy day. Like many farming communities, a single shrine had spaces for the main gods overseeing simple affairs of simple lives. Three goddesses dominated the most prominent spots. Artemis the Huntress, Demeter the patron of farmers, and Hera the Mother. But others had their own space as well. Mirthful Dionysus, Proud Zeus, Wise Athena, and Valiant Ares. Each with their own sculptures.

Agnes thought about how much her husband Lysander had always wanted one of these commissions, but they were typically handled within the proper cult of each deity unlike his Apollo statue in the market square. She stopped near an effigy of Hermes, the Messenger God with his winged sandals and boyish charm. Agnes offered a short prayer and lit a candle to bessech the lad for his protection on her journey and set off.

“Oi! Looks like we've found our sticky-fingered little rat.” Agnes heard as she was finishing up. She scanned the streets as she left the temple and saw shadows moving in a nearby alleyway.

“P-please sir,” Pleaded a small voice. “I wasn't even in the square today.”

Something seemed off to Agnes. She didn't hear a voice, but the thief earlier looked like a grown woman. The next round of accusation and defense suggested a young boy. A theory confirmed as she drew close enough to see the scene. Three men dressed as soldiers surrounding a boy of about ten. Judging from his clean and well-maintained clothes, a boy with a happy home waiting for him.

“Enough with your excuses brat!” Bellowed one of the men as he punched the wall near the child's head, startling the boy with the loud bang. “Just confess, make this all go easier on you.”

“B-but I didn't--” The boy stammered, tears welling up in his eyes.

“--I said enough!” The soldier repeated, this time shoving the boy to the ground.

“Excuse me, sir!” Agnes hailed the men, but they didn't hear her.

“It's already bad enough I'm stuck in a dump like this!” The man shouted coarsely, stomping on the fish the boy dropped. “This nothing of a farm town is lucky to have protection like us, least you swine could do is appreciate it!”

Another one of the soldiers tried to intercede. “Hey, boss...he does have a pole on him.”

“Like I care!” The first one shouted, snatching the boy's fishing pole and swatting him with it. Hard enough to break it with a snap that echoed loudly of the walls of the nearby buildings.

“Excuse me, sir!” Agnes called out again, but the man was lost in his rage. She heaved a deep sigh as she visualized the winds winding themselves into a thread. Thinking of pulling a dead branch from high off her pear tree. Drawing in moisture from the air to thicken her thread. It was luck today was rather humid.

As the soldier reared back to strike the boy again, with a quick flick of her shepherd's crook Agnes snared his wrist followed by a tug. Like he was caught by a fishing pole, the soldier slammed on the ground with a hard fall. The other two soldiers hand's shot to their weapons at their hips as they looked around, finally spotting Agnes.

The other two soldiers searched the area for the interloper as their fallen comrade rose. When he was up, he noticed Agnes walking towards them. “Hey! Old lady...that wasn't you was it?”

The soldier balked when his perception caught up to him and he realized Agnes was already helping the boy to his feet. “Me? How?” She tittered. “Seems like you have the wrong person...again.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” One of the soldiers asked as the other helped his fallen comrade to his feet.

“I saw the market thief.” Agnes snipped, ushering the boy behind her. “You're looking for a young woman, not a little boy bringing the catch of the day home.”

The original aggressor snarled, “Well why didn't you say something?”

“Tried.” Agnes said with a defiant thump of her staff on the ground. “You were too busy beating the poor thing. I hope you intend to repay him for the broken fishing pole and good meal he lost.”

One of the other soldiers stepped forward and whispered something to his compatriot. Agnes didn't realize her anger and protective instincts were seeping out as a different form of magic that made her feel ten feet tall, for better or worse, to both soldier and frightened child. She also couldn't hear well enough to realize the soldier was cautioning his friend about rumors of a forest witch active in the area.

The aggressive soldier reached into a pouch on his belt and tossed several coins at the boy. “Here, don't act so suspicious next time.” he spat as the three men turned and sauntered off.

Agnes turned back to look at the boy, who still hadn't noticed the coins at his feet as he sat holding the pieces of his broken fishing pole. He was able to choke out a “My big brudder made dis for me, I don't wanna new one!” between the sobs.

Agnes stooped down and gingerly took the pieces from him. “Oh...I see, then a special treasure like this needs proper attention.” It was a simple, practical mending spell really. Wood was easy, especially springy wood that still had a little life in it like this fishing rod. She handed it back to the amazed young man with a “There, looks good as new! Why don't you give it a try?”

“T-thanks lady!” The boy cheered as he whipped the repaired rod back and forth.

“Well, it's getting too late to replace your catch.” Agnes cooed as she stood back up and began to leave. “Take those coins and buy something nice!”