Jaxsi & the Beanstalks

Jaxsi Went to Market Chapter 4

 I tiptoe behind a darkened house. I move quickly from shadow to shadow as I make my way to the south old gate to meet Pol. My path has been winding and long. I avoided the open lane leading straight to where Stendal cornered me. Mercifully since that night he was easier to avoid than I would have thought. Still I have been careful to keep in the sight of other people. Even forcing my brother to garden with me and go with me into the woods. A promise of a meat pie and he even took my usual herb delivery to sell at the Hemlock Apothecary. Criston, Stendal's father and owner of the shop, shorted us some copper I am sure but it was worth it.

All in all I am proud of myself. While also hating myself for my fear. My intellect kept telling me Stendal will never underestimate me like that again and that the fear is vital. And I know he will make me pay for hurting him and running. The fear is justified, my brain keeps screeching. He has all the time in the world, he knows where I live and where I have to sell my wares. Also fortunate, Father had not spoken of marriage again, yet.

This trip my dagger is in my hand, hidden under my cloak. Stabbing the golden boy of the Northeast Quarter would be a bad idea but almost anything is better than what he has planned for me. I also have a flask concealed in my cloak. It smells of wine but includes a mixture of poppy, henbane, and valerian root. Sure to knock out a man, and unlikely kill him. I only hope I can talk any would-be attacker to drink. It's the best I could do with so little time. I hug a short garden wall, then dart to the side of a used clothing shop; Ol' Harry's is dark and long closed. My bag is heavier this time and I am careful not to crush it into the shop's wall. I wait in its dark shadow and peek across the open land to the gate with the sole torch. I have to cross the intersecting lanes to reach the southeast gate. The opening beckons but I don't move. My heart speeds up and my throat is tight.

A group of boisterous young men shove and push past on the lane and through the gate. I don't recognize any of them from the back but Stendal is definitely not one of them. I adjust my grip on my dagger. My ears stretch to hear every shift in the night and my gaze darts, searching for movement or color, or even the deeper darkness I saw when Fen interrupted Pol and I. Interrupted what though? I shake my head, forcing it clear. Focus idiot. I want to find danger before it finds me this time.

My attention moves from the now quiet lane to the old gate. I didn't see Pol pass through the gate, he's just there. Leaning against the arched opening. His legs and arms crossed as if he's been waiting on me. He looks relaxed. His brown hair is pulled back again but I can see it better near the torchlight. Scruff still covers his chin around his beard. He wears a loose black shirt under a dark gray leather sleeveless tunic, loosely tied closed. His pants and boots are also black. The better to sneak around I suppose. Only the boots look the same as our last encounter.

I'm wearing the same clothes as last time. Though I nearly scrubbed holes in all of it making sure I would never smell Stendal's mix of ambrette, sandalwood, and evil again. I can't afford to replace my male clothing. At least not yet. A smile slowly comes out on my face. Maybe soon if tonight goes well.

I refocus on Pol. His head is turned directly at my hiding place. He absolutely knows I am here. How does he do that? Maybe he can teach me. Then I can avoid Stendal better. I walk across the lane and into the light. I'm sure I'm safe with him, but I leave my hood up though. Secret meetings and all.

Remembering his scar hidden by his loose coils of hair, I wonder if he can teach me to fight better. Especially with blades. I would feel better, even in daylight. Maybe even just how to dodge, or take a hit better. That would be useful with Sorrel. I'm small so it's probably better to run from other attackers.

I stop in front of Pol. He tilts his head sideways, and looks me up and down. My dagger is still in my hand, so I sheath it. Maybe I look odd because I bound my chest tighter. It is uncomfortable but it feels safer. Maybe he's just embarrassed I am wearing the exact same clothes. That would be strange since there was a time he only had two torn sets of clothing when he was first apprenticed to the rogues' guild.