The De'Nauguath Chronicles - Book 1: The Summoner's Daughter

Chapter 3: Waken

After that night, I used runes every day on the wound. The scar lingered, probably because my rune skills were middling. The pain was gone, but something about the mark unsettled me. I'd seen it somewhere before, but I didn't know where, and I didn't know what it meant.

I wondered if Gareth would notice – he didn't believe in tattoos on women. I didn't want to think about what he was likely to call an answer to the problem.

A month or so later, a small circus caravan came through Krócia.

It happened a few times a year. It was common fare – fire swallowers, fortunetellers, a few contorters – but it always kicked the dust off of weary Krócian backs for two weeks. Children in town cackled with joy at men who pulled bright scarves out of their own throats without gagging. Old crones debated how the nomads' potent perfumes were made. Farmers wondered how these folk ever grew crops for themselves when they spent most months of the year traveling around.

One day during this migration, Gareth was in a smug mood about a deal between himself and a rug trader, Patje Peda. I hadn't seen Peda in five years. Flies and plague made good bedfellows. He was a lump of a man, a little older and quieter than Gareth but every bit as dicey. His mouth stank of a different infection each time he came. Gareth had only refused to sell me in other years because he'd wanted to make Peda envious. Peda and Gareth had the same brand of ambition, and they were as close to brothers as anyone was likely to be in Krócia.

They were also as likely to stab each other to death as they were to share a pint.

It was midday. I was tending to the figure books when Patje Peda's stench turned sharp in the air. I shuddered.

"Iggy, you need to fix that sign. Yer name's almost worn off. It looks like a swear now."

Gareth grunted and emerged from behind a shelf, a blank look of bother on his face. A smile bloomed when he saw Peda. "Old son of a whore. C'mere." The two men slapped each other's shoulders. I inched away to the far end of the counter and stared at the account lists for grain.

"Oi." Peda's mixture of surprise and delight was meant to get my attention, but I flinched instead. He took a step closer and eyed me over. I didn't need to look up from the mealy pages to feel his eyes. "This 'un for sale yet?"

"Naw. Sóra's too backmouthed for you."

"Sóra? Long-skirt Sóra? By gods, she's grown." He leered. I still didn't need to look at him to know, because it was what he always did. "Got some mightily strong whiskey a few towns back. It'll water down like magic and someone might still go blind from it. It might do the trick to shut her up for good, you know. I'll trade you all of it if –"

A reflex made me jerk my head up and watch Gareth, but Gareth shook his head. "Naw." He walked over to me. "You wouldn't like her for that. Broke her in years ago, innit?" He wrapped a hand around my back and pulled me in tight. I kept my stare on Patje and tried to ignore the fingers playing chords on my ribs.

"Shame." Patje glanced at me again and rested his eyes on my midsection. "Hips like a mule."

"Naw. Nothin' yet."

"Mm. But not for lack o' tryin', eh?"

"Give it time," I joined. "Gods know you try hard enough." I squeezed his pinky and middle finger until I flattened his tendons. I wriggled out of his grasp and retreated behind the counter.

"D'you –" Peda tilted his head at Gareth. "You still have the contraption?"

"'Course I do. Everyone admired it back in the day."