caught her first glimpse of Miiska late that morning and felt a twinge of uncertainty. She had literally banked everything on finding peace in this small port town, and dreams by a campfire were often a far cry from reality.
Leesil showed no similar apprehension "Finally," he said, and his step quickened until he moved out ahead of her. "Come on."
Like him, she had become fond of clean, salty air. Unlike him, she could not express such appreciation. His habit of speaking exactly what he thought often confused her, but now she hurried to follow, jerking on the donkey's bridle. She was glad of Leesil's open curiosity. He might make this easier.
Chap no longer rode in the cart, but trotted along beside Leesil, head high as if he knew exactly where he was going, a hound on his way home after the morning run. After so many years trying to perfectly fit their parts in the "hunter of the dead" game, Magiere was struck by just how peculiar looking a trio they were. She wondered what the townspeople would think of them.
"I wish we could have cleaned up first," she said.
"You look fine," Leesil answered, sounding ridiculous in his torn, oversize, untucked shirt and dirty breeches. He hadn't bothered to don a scarf or even to tie up his hair so that the tightened, smooth sides of his ponytail would cover the tips of his ears. Perhaps now that he was arriving at his new home, he didn't see the need to blend in anymore.
The distance to the town closed quickly, until Magiere felt as if she had stepped across an unseen boundary to enter its domain.
People bustled around the main street where it opened into a small marketplace at the near end of town. Smells of warm milk, horse manure and sweat and, most of all, fish assaulted her as she passed the first cluster of hawkers' shacks and tents. A candle maker measured out dye into a pot of melted wax. Nearby, a clothier emptied a cart and hung up multipatterned cloth that would give a harlequin fits. From beyond the buildings and toward the docks came a shrill whistle and the sound of a taskmaster's voice cracking dockworkers into motion to empty the belly of some barge just into port. And, of course, there were the fishmongers, each trying to out shout the other for their fresh, dried, cured, or smoked catch for sale. This was not an outback village of superstitious peasants but a thriving community.
"Not bad." Leesil smiled, watching a wagon rock by toward a small warehouse, its back filled with wooden wine barrels. "I could grow accustomed to this."
They passed a small tavern on the right where a stout woman swept last night's dirt and leavings out the door. By its look and place in the town, Magiere knew it wasn't the one she'd bought, but she had a moment's hesitation, wondering if she'd need to jerk Leesil back before he slipped through the open door.
Even in the mill of activity, heads turned toward them. Magiere kept her back straight and her pace even. Newcomers would be common in a port town. However, only one or two other people openly carried any weapon, and she now wished she'd stowed her falchion in the cart. Hopefully, there would be no need of it here.
The scent of fresh bread caught her attention, and her gaze wandered about until she spotted the aroma's origin.
She walked up to a table in front of a small cottage. Through one shutterless window she saw the clay ovens and realized it was an actual bakery.
"A loaf of black forest and a loaf of rye," she said to a balding, plump man in an apron.
The man hesitated, and Magiere felt immediately conscious of the way she must look, armored and armed. There was an awkward silence.
"Do you have any sweet rolls?" Leesil grinned at the baker, stepping up to the table and examining everything. "I'm hungry enough to clean you out."
The man's eyes widened a bit at Leesil's high eyebrows and blunt-point ears peeking through sliver-yellow hair, but Leesil's smile inevitably proved infectious. He could come across as the most carefree, harmless creature. Magiere knew better. She also knew when not to disturb Leesil's influence on people.
"I have some cream pastries inside," the man suggested.
"Cream pastries?" Leesil let out an ecstatic gasp. "Fetch me three before I drop right here at your feet!"
The baker both scowled and smiled at Leesil's dramatics and disappeared