Phony Potions

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

The shoe shop was far too fancy for how far north of Majikast we were. Although, that was only an assumption. I'd never been south enough to visit the seat of the Centralized Magical Arcanacracy's power. Stone pillars rose up to either side of the door, but they were decorative rather than supportive. Carved into them, with a level of detail I had never seen before, were images so perfect for a moment I wondered if they were the real thing, only shrunk down and placed on the column.

"It's... so... so..." Mallow elbowed a few people out of the way, until she crouched down next to the bottom of the pillar and follow it up with her eyes. She put a protective arm around me after I got jostled by a passerby. We weren't the only ones taken in by it, but a reluctant bubble formed around us from people not wanting to stand too closely to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," I murmured. It took my mind a moment to catch up with what my eyes were viewing. I realized now they were raised sculptures of shoes and cobbling supplies. The shoes at the bottom were crude and simple, like what peasants might wear. Little more than leather thong sandals or simple, rough boots. They were carved with such intricate attention to detail I could see the precise stitch that held the heel on the banana-style boot together.

Mallow reached out, unable to resist. Her fingertip pressed against the seam of the boot and her eyes went wide.

"You know.... I... I can feel the threads, I swear." She pulled her finger back, and then grinned. "It's like I was pressing my hand against a real shoe, except cast into stone or something." She held it up for me to see. Sure enough, indented in the pure white of her fingertip were crossing strings.

My eyes followed the shoes upward, and they became more intricate. I recognized the sorts of shoes that shopkeepers and craftspeople wore. More buckles, more ornamentation. Some had simple embroidery like a worker's wife might adorn a favorite pair of boots with. Others were sporting initials. At this point I noticed animals lining the sides of the pillars. I saw at the bottom there were cows, but as I skimmed upward, other creatures came into sight. Gentle calves and sheep. As I passed into what could only be the footwear of Arcanacrats. The shoes were decorated with impractical buckles, baubles, ribbons, and delicate little cross sections of fabric that would snap under the slightest stress without the aid of magic. The animals became exotic. The reclusive Lilynibbler bird, the rare six legged Hexasteer. I didn't recognize most of them. At the very top of the pillar, a dragon curled, its wings folded to form a rounded cap. I only knew that one from Proving stories.

Mallow knocked the wind out of me as she jumped. From my new vantage point in the dirt I saw the door next to us had opened. A gaggle of well-dressed people left, their perfume hitting us like a wave of flowers. Many of them had darker skin, and they were talking. The words were recognizable, but the accent was weird. At the tail end of the group was a man, rotund and far too finely dressed for a merchant. If it wasn't for his apron, and the calipers and measuring tape peeking out from his pocket, I wouldn't have guessed his job. His skin was of the more local rosy-colored shade. His accent was more familiar when he said to the group, "Now enjoy the rest of the city! Make sure to stop in and say hello to my father; he would be so cross if you didn't!"

Half the crowd, the ones that were waiting on the edges and not eagerly leaning forward, departed with the dark skinned shoppers who had left. Must have been servants. Even with that, there was still quite a crowd gathered around the pillars. Of those people, no one made a move toward the now open door. A smile sprung up beneath his wispy brown mustache. His grin was pure charisma, although he was neither handsome nor ugly. He was plain enough to resemble the friend or family member of anyone. A universal, unassuming face. I was envious. If only I had such a trustworthy face I would earn every customer's instant trust. Instead I was lean and intimidatingly handsome.