Sleepwalker

Chapter Twelve: Beware the North: Part Two

“I would like to mail a letter, er, two letters.” I stated to the rotund man behind the desk. Carefully, I placed them onto the table in front of him, smiling.

“Where are you mailing them to?” He queried, disinterestedly.

I replied, “Just south of Yondrin. How much would that cost?” I opened the pouch carefully, not to reveal how much was inside, a trading trick Papa had taught me.

“One Crahavac for both of them.” The man didn’t even peer up from his book. “Envelopes are over there.” Expectantly, he held out his hand for the coin. Once it was in his palm, he bit into it. “Authentic. Now hurry up.” He shooed me over to the other table.

Irritated, I addressed the letters. I felt self-conscious writing Papa on the front so I addressed it Eric Stone at the Lonely Bard’s Inn in Yondrin, Caligeria.

As I placed the letters on the table, the man exclaimed, “Can’t you write any larger? How can you read your own writing?” He pushed it up against his face.

“It’s not that small,” I responded flatly. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice day.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You are not from around here, are you?”

“I’m from Yondrin. That is not far enough to notice a difference in speech, is it?”

“Well, no, but nobody around here is that polite. You weren’t raised in town though, were you?” He peered up from his reading finally curious. “Ah, I understand now, your parents are from else where.”

“My father is from this town actually. You are correct though. I wasn’t raised in the village, just a bit south of town in my father’s inn. Thank you again for delivering the letter. I have to be off now.” I scuttled out of the store before he asked about my mother.

The air had its summer warmth back, though the leaves on the trees showed signs of yellowing, approaching autumn. My concern though, was in the grey layers of cloud looming over the sky, threatening rain, even lightening.

The first droplet fell in front of me as I ambled to the shop to say a final goodbye and retrieve Dill after his boots were fitted. Soon after, the rain steadied into occasional drops; I groaned at the thought of slogging through mud all day.

“Was that what Sleepwalker meant? Maybe the rain is heavier in the north?” I mused on it. After my nightmare the previous night, I had laid awake in bed until the time was decent. As the bell chimed on top of the door, I entered the musty shop.

“Thank you, Mr. Stone. For everything.” Dill gripped my grandfather’s hand in a tight shake. “The boots are phenomenal,” He wriggled his feet in them.

Though new, the black leather was already soft. The soles were a hard material, entirely unworn. The similarities to my own boots were striking with the thin cloth laces crisscrossing toward the bottoms of Dill’s britches; my eyes traced their path upward.

“Jenny, what are you doing?” Armadillo asked with one eyebrow raised.

Blushing, I cleared my throat. “Eh…counting the…floorboards,” I replied hastily. “You disrupted my focus though. I lost count,” I lied. “Hello, Uncle Evan.”

He chuckled. “Hey, Jen. You set to be off? You don’t need anything, do you?”

“No, Papa made sure I had just about everything that could fit into this bag before I left home.” I grinned. “Thanks for everything.” Anxiously, I checked the time, half past eight. “Well, this is already a later start than I hoped to have. I promise my next visit will be longer.” Tightly, I embraced my uncle. Then I offered my hand to my grandfather.