Gift- Book 1

Chapter 22

There's nothing particularly special about the books save for the quality. Hard-backed with leather trimming on the corners to keep from fraying. They're one of the few things Leiea owns that wasn't hand made by herself or by someone in the village. They came in a set from a printing press in Florithe, being sold back home by a traveling band of salespeople from the wealthier cities. A special treat from Mother to be shared with Fleya, although she had little interest in the subject.

Leiea flips to a middle page to find it on chicory. She's always liked picking the plant around the hills of the village where it was the least trampled in late summer. She'd bring them home and give them to Mother, who would pluck the leaves and put them in a salad bowl for later, saving the roots to dry and grind up for a drink the next morning.

She slips through the book for a while, losing track of time. The first time she has in months of days filled with unamused silence and sadness. Even the times she played with her new Soundbox, the hours would never seem to go by.

Eventually an hour or so passes, and, without much manner, the door bursts open and Sheyric comes into view, lugging two big boxes and a lidded pail of water the size of her torso. His hair wild and eyes glinting with mania, he drops the boxes and sets the pail on the countertop. Without another word, he grabs a stool off to the side and slumps down on it and begins talking rapidly.

"I picked up crackers and bread and whatnot and immediately went to Plei's," he takes a deep breath and rubs his shoulder. "I got there after a while, she got me the usual water before I told her the gist of what's been happening. Not all the details but most. Obviously, she was distraught and felt horrible, and rushed me out right after because she knows how dangerous it can be now. Also, she got you this,"

He pauses and pulls an ornate hand mirror out of his pocket. The size of her hand and the metal beautifully crafted, Leiea nods and traces the edge, purposefully not looking at her reflection. He continues.

"I was walking out of there and went back through the market area, and you know how crowded that can be during the day. I was navigating through the people, with all that in my arms, and looked over my shoulder to check if anyone was following me, a nervous habit. And... right next to me was the man with the bird. Yes, him. He didn't have the bird but I know that face, especially with that same suit and hat..."

Leiea interrupts him and rubs her eyes. "Please tell me you didn't interact with him. What did he do? Look at you? Great." She tried not to sound whiny but it's impossible when looking at him brings death upon those you love.

"Yes... I mean, no. Not great. But all he did was look at me and smile, tip his hat and continue walking. I'm not sure what happened after that, it was all kind of in a haze."

She jumps up and takes a stride in his direction, but ends up on the floor by his feet when dizziness engulfs her and stars dance in her vision. He extends a hand to get up but she pushes it away and struggles to stand on her own. "Twice! Twice this has happened, within weeks. No ones safe now... because you had to get in there! We have enough food! But you had to endanger not us, but them. And who knows how many by now."

"We'll keep on, then." He nods and stands, looking at Leiea with disdain. He passes through the door and the caravan almost instantly shakes from his weight climbing up on the driver's seat. The horses whinny and metal clicks together as it gets moving down the plains.

Leiea shrinks down and sets her head in her hands. Was that just more psychotic emotion from him, or does he really not care about seeing this man? Well, sure he does, he probably just didn't like her outburst. It still doesn't mean it was undeserved. This is just becoming too common.