June was right about the Commons being depressing.
They walked through the city's unpaved and uneven streets, elbowing other Commons just to pass this narrow street. Xanthy wrenched her neck up and frowned. She couldn't even see the sky with the mess of tall buildings flanking the street.
Sweat poured off Xanthy's back and drenched her tunic. The heat also curled at her neck but she tucked herself deeper into the hooded cloak Vikara lent her. All sorts of people streamed past Xanthy in a show of torn tunics, patched trousers, and a few buckled, leather boots.
Buildings painted with peeling paint loomed over Xanthy as they stood side by side with almost no spaces in between. Like the row houses in the Disfavoreds, these buildings looked like they were built from a single wall.
The air was thick and insulted Xanthy's nose as she tried breathing in deeply. Ugh. At least in the Disfavoreds, she could steal a few drops of fresh air from the forest if the right breeze blew by. Here, it's almost impossible to inhale and not smell ink, smoke, and feces.
A dagrine brayed. A burnt ocher snout almost collided with Xanthy's nose. She yelped and dove behind June. "Relax and look where you are going," June chuckled as he led her away from the animal gritting its teeth at Xanthy.
"We are not on a leisure walk here," Reeca snapped as she paused to look back at them. "Seriously, pick it up."
June rolled his eyes. "Who made her in charge?"
"I know, right?" Xanthy scoffed. She considered backing out when she saw the varichria waiting for them by the estate's back gates as Vikara kicked them off with this job.
Since then, Reeca did nothing but grumble, snap, and glare at them. Xanthy wished Reeca would step on a pile of dagrine turd just out of spite.
They emerged from the narrow street and came to a crossroad. Xanthy had no idea where each one of these roads led but Reeca forged ahead. How did she know where to go when she hasn't even been here?
Carriages bearing important businessmen and their servants sped through this wider road perpendicular to the one they came from. June had to yank her around to keep her from stepping on the wrong dragine hoof and drawing attention to themselves. From the corner of Xanthy's eyes, she spied a platoon of at least twenty Civil Guards in their blue overcoats and tight ecru breeches. Where were their steeds?
Commons milled about, bearing carts of mail or goods. They padded across the roads with passive faces and empty eyes. Perhaps, that's what June meant by depressing. One felt the hopelessness dancing in the air and sitting on the people's shoulders.
Xanthy rubbed her nose with her hand as she and June pushed forward. This present street showcased shorter and stouter buildings. Children ran about with small pouches tucked in their arms. Men and women ran about, each with their own satchels tossed by their shoulders.
The scent of fresh bread slammed in Xanthy's nose that it almost made her cry. Bread! It's close!
Her mouth watered as they approached a building with an uncharacteristically shingled roof, fading brick red paint, and dark wooden door. A chimney spewed dark gray smoke that mingled with the midday air. Glass windows gave her the perfect view of what she dreamed for most her life back at the Disfavoreds.
Pastries of different sizes and shapes gleamed from behind the window. Xanthy wiped at the corner of her mouth and her fingers came away wet. Ugh. That's how tired she was of eating cleret meat for every meal time of her day.
Xanthy forced a squeal down as Reeca angled her body and headed towards the bakery. Ah, this was her best day, yet!
They entered the shop and the moment the heavy door slammed behind them, Xanthy dashed towards the first rack she laid her eyes on.
"The buns are going to be ready in about five minutes," a voice called from a dark doorway to Xanthy's north. She began counting her versallis in her head. How many would she have of these pastries and still have enough to buy her tomes?
"Good choice with the pastelberds."
Xanthy yelped and whirled to find a boy standing behind her. "Wh—"
The boy ran a hand on his silky, dark hair. His green eyes shone with inexplicable amusement. "I mean, I still think pastelberds deserve a chance to be popular amongst consumers," he propped his hands on his belt. "That thing is delicious."
Xanthy nodded. June and Reeca have flitted to different corners of the bakery. "Yeah, sure," she shifted her weight to another foot. "Do you usually hang out here?"
The boy chuckled and shook his head. "No, I work here," he gestured at the place vaguely. "My dad runs this place."
"Ah," Xanthy turned her attention back to the triangular pastries. Smoke still billowed from them.
"It is not normal for people from textile to visit us twice a day," the boy noted. "Your clothes tell me that you are indeed from textile but that could not be since textile people came a while ago."
Xanthy stuck her bottom lip out. Textile people? Could he mean Marin and Malin?
Marin fancies the baker's son. Oh.
The boy didn't look too bad for a Common and that's Xanthy saying it. She hadn't had the chance to examine boys her age but she had to agree that the son of the baker was, well....
"I am Nyxis, by the way," the boy extended his hand towards Xanthy. She stared at it. "Look," he sighed and kept his hand forward. "It is not everyday someone looks at pastelberds like it is a pot of gold. You deserve my name, at least."
Xanthy smirked. "What makes you think you deserve mine?" she laughed when the boy frowned. "Kidding," she shook his hand. "I am Xanthiene."
"Xanthiene, huh?" Nyxis brushed his locks away from his forehead. "One does not encounter that name around here often."
Xanthy shrugged. "Commons cannot have unique names?"
"No, they can," Nyxis dusted his scratched apron. His boots thumped against the concrete floor when he shifted his weight to his other foot. "This was the first time I have seen you around here. Are you new?"
"Depends on how new is new," Xanthy cast her eyes at the bags of flour stacked atop a wooden counter. Was that the cloth she wove? Used as flour bags?
Really?
Then, Nyxis began yammering about different kinds of pastries like he was going to die if Xanthy didn't get to understand why lindenmeres were such an integral part of society. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes or to tell him to shut up.
"Ah, sorry for keeping you all waiting," a burly man with auburn hair and didn't look anything like the boy's father stepped out from the dark doorway. Finally!
Nyxis clamped his mouth shut and moved to rearrange the batches of pastries on a cooling rack on the opposite side of the room. The baker dusted his hands off the white flour coating his fingers as he approached Xanthy. "What can I do for you on this lovely day?" he smiled, showing off teeth peppered with black dots. Ugh.
Reeca appeared by Xanthy's shoulders. "We wish to gather our lot," the varichria said. Gee, where did she come from?
The man blinked. Then, he threw his head back and guffawed. Loudly. "Ah, that," his Commons accent grated Xanthy's ears. "Hah, let me just duck out and get it."
They watched the stout man lumbered back into the doorway he came from. Nyxis's dissonant hum that resembled no song familiar to Xanthy filled the silence. Outside, boots clacked against the road, dagrine neighed, and cart wheels slapped the dust at every turn.
Xanthy crossed her arms. It didn't strike her as odd when Reeca's hand crept to the pommel of her sword or when June edged to the window. This was as normal as could be.
The baker lumbered back into the bright front of the shop and passed a rolled parchment to Reeca. Xanthy caught a glimpse of a red wax seal that bore some symbol as the varichria's hands wrapped around it. She knitted her eyebrows. Vikara did say they were escorting an important package but was parchment the only thing they came here for?
Reeca dipped her head and jerked her head at Xanthy to follow. Xanthy dug for her coin pouch to at least buy something.
"Uh, Xanthy, what did you do?" Reeca asked. Her voice sounded far and clipped.
Xanthy frowned at the pastelberds. She wanted to buy food. What were they blaming her for now?
June cleared his throat. "Whoever invited the banana guys, now is time to come clean."
Oh, Queen's Holy Stockings.