Anais of Brightshire

Chapter 1

This was my fifth trip to Brightshire with my Uncle Gil, and with each return trip home, my mother became more distressed that I would never be accepted into the Great House as a handmaiden. My mother had been a handmaiden before she married my father and thought she was doing me a great service by insisting I follow in her footsteps. At the age of eleven, I was no longer a child, and my mother had made it quite clear that I was expected to find work outside of our home. My feelings on the matter were mixed. I wished to please my mother, but I didn't think it was fair that I had to abandon my life to do so.

"You alright back there, girlie?" Gil called from the front of the cart, where he led the mules along the bumpy road. "That was a nasty bit of wind."

I lowered the blanket from my face. "Mm, I'm okay." I narrowed my eyes and imagined him as a walrus, which made me giggle. Gil had grown a long mustache that ended in a wide curl on each end. He was much larger than my father and brothers, who were as skinny as weeds and taut with muscles earned from the harsh life of fishermen. Gil's grin stretched wide from ear to ear. Gil was always bursting with city gossip or a cheerful song. My mother often alleged that it was Gil's ever-flowing supply of ale that caused him to find such pleasure in life. Gil was unlike my father in other ways too. He often suggested odd schemes to Dah, including a plan to dry fish in foreign spices. And once he told us a story of an inventor from a shire west of the Barrier Mountains who had built a box that would keep food cold indefinitely. Dah always scoffed at these plans, preferring to deal exclusively with smoking or boiling. Mah and Dah had no desire to foray into the unknown, whereas Gil was a dreamer.

Dawn emerged on the eastern horizon, and I heard the blurred sounds of carts, horses, mules, and voices - city noises.

Gil turned back and eyed me. "We're almost to town. Today will be mighty busy. A lot of business to be had." Gil whistled a tune as he led the mules around a sharp right turn.

I peeked out of my blanket again and caught the smells of the market wafting toward me. Thick odors of people and animals blurred with the sweet and salty aromas of market food. Brightshire Bazaar stalls contained every imaginable food stock: the ripest plum-berries from north of Barriershire, the sweetest cream from the Moore Dairy, the moistest lamb from Blumstead Farms, the finest vintages of Brightshire wines, and - of course - the freshest fish to be had from the Bright River. My eyes glazed with excitement as the town clarified.

A large brick archway signified our entrance into the city, and as we passed through, the dirt path transitioned into a cobbled stone. Two men, dressed in red jackets with gold plated buttons and crisp black pants sporting thin curved swords, nodded to Gil after he showed them his trader's papers. A man dressed in a crimson robe spoke to Gil for a few minutes and looked over our cargo. He was a sniffer. Gil had told me on our first trip that the man in the robe was sniffing for artifacts holding enchantments. Because magic was prohibited, if we were caught carrying contraband, we would likely be executed. Gil had promised that it was nothing to worry about since there was no magic left in the world, and the sniffers were all frauds.

We worked our way from the city entrance toward the bazaar. A smile crept to my face. I felt like a small cog in the machine of commerce whenever we visited, and I appreciated that feeling of inclusion. I liked to watch large sums of coin change hands. I sighed. It must be wonderful to have money. The surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins was hampered by the knowledge that when the stalls closed, Gil would bring me to the Great House again. Would they take me this time? I half hoped so. I didn't want to see my mother's face fall in disappointment once again, but the notion also scared me. I would be a stranger here. I would be alone.

Gil pulled the mules to a stop next to a muddy square occupied by an empty wooden stall. Ambitious merchants had already filled the other stalls in the row with their goods, and I knew Gil would soon transform our space into the greatest fish stall in the entire Brightshire Bazaar. I dropped my blanket and hopped off the cart, landing softly on the cobbled stone floor. Gil took longer to pull his hefty frame to the ground. By the time he was off the wagon, I was standing in front of him with outstretched hands.