The Stranger and Other Tales

Orb-Seer

The moment she pushed open the bakery door, setting the bell tinkling, Fran knew something was wrong. The ruby-red orb that hovered above Mr Cracknell's head was murky and dull.

She ducked under the counter and tiptoed into the back, holding her breath.

'Martha Robinson's baby's been kidnapped.'  Mr Cracknell didn't look up from his dough. Fran's stomach constricted.

'Doloran Baby-Thieves?' Her voice came out thin and high-pitched.

He nodded, jowls wobbling. 'That baby'll be halfway to Dolora by now. They'll sell it to a rich childless couple and poor Martha'll never see it again.' He swiped his floury hand across his sweaty forehead. 'I never thought they'd target the city. Must be the border towns are wise to them now. Parents are keeping a closer watch on their babies. So they've had to look further afield.' He blew out a dejected breath. 'Stack those chestnut buns on the counter, will you?'

Fran arranged the soft fragrant buns on the counter with a heavy heart. Outside the window, the market traders set up their stalls in the dawn light. 

Jack Webster heaved a crate of onions out of his cart. His orb, usually a vibrant emerald green had faded to a drab ditchwater colour. Emily Johnson smoothed out the bolts of cloth on her wooden table, her sunshine yellow orb a sickly shade of pus. A shiver shook Fran's shoulders.

News travels fast.

It was then that she noticed them.

Two dark figures, climbing down the hill from the forbidden temple, making their way towards the city.

Sisters of Akna. Someone somewhere must be in labour.

'Fran, can you take the spelt loaves out? They'll be done by now.'

The oven's heat hit her in the face, the nutty fragrance of freshly baked bread.

She set the loaves aside to cool and committed the next batch to the fiery furnace.

'Here,' Without meeting her eye, Mr Cracknell thrust a tray of chubby sugar-coated vanilla rings into her hands.

'Stack these next to the chestnut buns.'

Fran set to work stacking them into a neat pyramid. She swatted a stray lock of hair out of her face with her forearm and her eyes fell on the scene outside.

Her eyebrows twitched.

It was clear that something had changed.

Jack, Emily and all the other traders had stopped what they were doing. They stared open-mouthed at something just out of Fran's sight.

She dusted her hands on her apron, ducked under the counter and peered through the window.

Two blue cloaked and veiled figures processed down the marketplace's central aisle, the orbs above each of their heads shining a brilliant sapphire. Fran's breath caught in her throat.

Sisters of Akna? Here? But they never come to the market.

She had seen Sisters up close only once before, on the day her brother was born. She'd only been three but she remembered it like it was yesterday. Kneeling on the hearthrug, her arms wrapped round her sheepdog's neck, the awful sound of her mother's screams, her grandmother opening the back door to two blue-shrouded shapes, their orbs shining sapphire blue.

Just like her own.

She'd hugged her pet tighter and buried her head in his fur.

*****

Fran's forehead was cool against the bakery window. Her breath fogged the glass.

Why is my heart beating so fast?