Chapter Three

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The world outside the Bel Ilan manor shone bright as a painting. Yesterday's haze had blown away, and the sun poured down, warming the ground until it radiated its own heat back up in waves. Niccola breathed deeply. The air was scented in a mix of summer and fall: warm grass and greenery, late-summer flowers, and just a hint of the rich, earthy perfume of damp soil and coloring leaves. Niccola had spotted the first reds and yellows on her last trip to market. The colours brushed the tips of leafy branches, like someone had made giant's paintbrushes of the Talakova's trees.

Like all realms in the Ring of Thirty, Calis's land tipped gently down from the high hills at its back to the Talakova at its feet. It followed the forest's edge for a day of walking. Calis and Varna were among the smallest realms in the Ring of Thirty. Small enough that both had done away with town names in favor of amalgamated road networks, and supported more than half their populations in their lowlands, within a half-hour's distance of the Talakova's edge.

Like sand in a jeweler's sieve, that population sorted itself, too. Up here were the upper class, who'd long ago deemed higher ground to be equal to higher status, and built their manors further up the hill. Large houses with manicured meadow-lawns edged both sides of this street. Niccola reached the end of it and stepped onto a dirt path that wound between a scattering of stout wooden buildings, then stepped out onto another. Here, shops replaced manors. Mid-sized houses spread out into the yards of the chicken farms for which Calis was known, then began to condense again.

A half-hour from the Talakova, the busiest part of the realm began. Houses shrank in size and clustered together like songbirds, and thick gardens replaced meadow-lawns. Chickens pecked and scratched in the street. They scattered, clucking, as people strode past them: just a few at first, then more, then dozens. The bright colours of Calisian clothing filled the lowlands like summer flowers. Niccola had enjoyed partaking in such fashion since arriving here. From her first day in Calis, she'd donned well-dyed dresses, skirts, sweaters, and the rolled-up kerchiefs women tied about their curly hairlines. The dresses were Niccola's favorite. Calisian fashion saw generous folds of fabric sewn into their skirts, and she did not understand why anyone would wear pants alone when such dresses twirled so delightfully.

The streets continued their gentle decline. Once level with the houses, the treetops of the Talakova rose tall enough to overshadow even the spires of the shrines. People flocked to these with their tithes. Niccola navigated the humming crowds with ease. Less than an hour after she'd left the manor, the street ejected her into the main marketplace on this end of the realm.

Unlike the roads above it, the square's activity was more subdued than usual. The market crowd, normally disparate, condensed into clusters as though nobody wanted to walk alone. Niccola tuned in to the patterns. The first stall attracted its normal share of customers. The next, co-owned by two barrower families, was exceptionally low on clientele. Cilicia, matriarch of one of the families, perched on her stool behind the counter, weaving a basket with fingers that turned brittle twigs to pliable weaving material. Her daughter leaned on the counter, watching the crowd go by. She wasn't smiling.

The next stall belonged to the Broder family. Dathan Broder was deep in conversation with a client, a grim look on his face. "We're sold out, I'm sorry," Niccola heard him say as she drifted closer. "The missus and kids haven't felt safe venturing further than a stone's throw into that there forest, what with the beast roaming about. We exhausted our stores this morning."

His family hunted truffles just inside the Talakova's edge. With their days spent within touching distance of the forest's time distortions, they were all known for their youthful looks, but today, Dathan looked his years. As he pulled back, he murmured something to his son nearby. That son was the only other non-barrower in the family. He didn't normally help run the market stall alone, but there was no sign of his brother or sisters with magic in their veins.

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