Anais of Brightshire

Chapter 3

A half-year passed.  I had only one full free day a week that I should have spent seeking a more permanent position in the Great House staff.  But, although Addie's warnings buzzed incessantly in the back of my mind, I didn't heed them.  Everything to do with the Great House made me miserable.  Instead, I would disappear the moment my work was done and wouldn't return until it was necessary.  I escaped to the only place worth going - the market - where I would lose myself in the hustle of other people's lives.  Occasionally I found Gil hawking my family's fish, and he would regale me with stories told by my parents and brothers.  However, never once did he bring with him a request for me to return to my former life.  There would be no welcome homecoming for me.

My greatest find was on the western edge of the market where the buskers entertained, practicing their craft and collecting coins from market goers.  Amateur acrobats, jugglers, singers, lutists, false mages and dancers all lived off the benevolence of the day traders, all hoping to be discovered.  I was at first taken in by the false mages, thinking their small tricks were real magic, but after watching for many hours I was able to discern the trickery behind their 'magic'.  I also watched the day traders buy and sell, and buy and sell, making profits where they could.

On a cold morning that threatened rain, I approached a crowd developing around Sendi and Mendi, two hairless twins who juggled knives and breathed fire.  They were dressed only in short calfskin breeches that were cut to their knees.  I was imagining what new additions they might have added to their act and didn't see the gentleman crossing my path.  I ran right into him, bowling him over and forcing the small wrapped package he was holding to tumble to the ground.  I jittered as I picked it up for him, hoping as I handed it to him that this wouldn't get me into more trouble than I could handle.

"I am sorry, sir."  Our eyes met for a brief moment.

"No trouble at all."  He paused.  "My, my, are you the little waif who cleans my room?"

I narrowed my eyes.  I knew him.  I bowed curtly, and turned my eyes to the ground.  I had watched his room on the third floor of the east wing expand from a few worn trunks to a room crammed with books and cauldrons filled with bubbling liquids of the oddest colors and long thin reeds hanging over the fireplace.  I wondered if he were a mage.  I wanted there to be magic in the world, more than I wanted anything.  I wanted to believe in something more than this sad life I lived.  Something better.  His room seemed different from any other I had ever seen - so full of possibilities.  I had caught occasional glimpses of him before, but didn't realize that he had also seen me.  He wasn't old, but he was a grown-up man, perhaps in his late twenties.  He had thick brown hair that curled over his forehead, was broadly shouldered, and dressed as a noble in fine silk and tweed.

He outstretched an empty hand, gloved in soft brown leather, toward me as if he wanted to shake my hand.  I stepped back, causing him to grimace, but he continued speaking to me anyway.

"Thellium Vance," he introduced himself.  "Though, I imagine, you already know my name.  If I remember correctly, the servants always know everything.  And you're Anais?"

How could he know my name?  It was strange, his ability to shrug off our differences in class as if they were a dressing robe.  Although I knew with utter certainty that it was important to maintain the lines between our stations, I couldn't ignore a direct question.

"Yes, sir," I muttered, hoping he would realize the ridiculousness of this conversation and leave me alone.

He bent to his knees, crouching on the ground.  His eyes were now at my level.  "Well, Miss Anais, you don't need to be scared of me.  I'm not a monster."  He paused. "I find myself at a loss here, perhaps you can help me."