Fate In Ink

chapter 6

Salt and seawater permeated the air, filling our noses to the brim. Several pails of fish piled up near the riverside and people flocked around it, haggling with all their might.

"Tch. This is a battlefield, I tell you." Solana clicked her tongue and raised her own clay pail over her head. Her eyes darted left and right and urged Matias forward. "Brother, you take the left. I see clams and mussels right over that side."

"And me?" I asked. They were already braced to march into war. I felt guilty about being left alone with nothing to do.

Solana fumbled through her pockets and threw me a small pouch, tied with a thin rope at its mouth. "Mother told me to give this to you. She said you could buy anything you might need with it. We'll pick you up back in town."

At that, the two of them turned away and like lions stalking their prey, they lunged at the seafood vendors.

The sun had just risen and the running river gleamed back at it as if in greeting. Had it not been for the commotion and the loud crowd of people, the river's gushing sounds would be evident.

I yelped when a big, burly man suddenly shoved me aside. "Watch it!" he howled.

I shuffled away from him and kept the pouch close to my chest. I have absolutely no idea how pickpockets work during the Spanish era, but I'm sure as hell they'd just be as crafty.

The main town area was not very far away from the river. Ultimately, it was a tad bit too small in comparison to the city I've grown accustomed to back in my time. My stomach turned. It had dawned upon me once again. I do not belong here.

I pushed the wicked thought. I scared myself and I have no time to be frightened. I needed to find a way to get back. Or maybe wake up from a long dream. Whichever comes first.

Stalls were pitched at the side of the street. There weren't a lot of them, maybe less than ten. Behind them were small infrastructures - buildings and houses built from stone and wood. People come and go from each of them and though the population was not that big, it was a noisy area. So early in the morning, no less.

The aroma of freshly baked bread reached my nose and my stomach gurgled in response. I had intended to suppress the hunger, but clearly, my big bag of gastric juices had other plans.

A cozy structure of bricks and wood attracted my eyes, and true enough, several trays of bread were laid out over the tables. They were large, about twice as much as the breads served at bakeries back home.

"Would you like a pan de suelo, miss?"

I snapped out of my hunger - induced reverie, and looked at a man behind the counter. His lips were tied together with a forced smile, and I politely returned the gesture.

"Sorry?"

"If you would like a pan de suelo, I said. It's freshly baked," the baker said.

"Suelo?" I asked, surprised at the unusual term.

The man turned to look at me, his hand stopping momentarily before he finally gave me a bread wrapped in a brown paper - like material.

"Well... yes. Is something the matter?" he asked.

I shook my head. I took a bite from the bread, and my stomach only growled louder. It was slightly sweet, and the coarse texture from the bread crumbs were splendid. "I thought this was called pan de sal."

"Ah, yes!" the baker said. "People do call it that these days. We've switched to eh... a cheaper ingredient. Wheat's hard to get by, you know."

I munched onto the bread and nodded. "I see."