Abbernathy and the Cat Kingdom

(11) -An Early Birthday Gift-

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The streets of the port city hummed with the drone of needles as landlocked sailors added to their already impressive collections of tattoos. Vibrant ink made of crushed sea glass colored their tanned arms and backs with crew flags, ship names, and particularly memorable oceanic battles. Culpepper always told Abby that one could tell most everything about a sailor just by the tattoos on their bodies.

The few Laosians not getting inked hobbled back to the housing district, their hair slicked with sweat, their bushy beards made limp by Laos' notorious humidity. Abby didn't mind it though, as she careened through crowded alleyways, jumped over trash cans and darted between men and women clad in light weight cottons and little else.

Lucy and Sebbi kept on Abby's heels and she did her best to ensure neither of them ended up with sandal imprints on their heads. Then, with one last turn, the narrow, stuffy roadways opened up onto a wide expanse of sandstone pavers, surrounded by a row of trimmed Burla trees. Hundreds of colorful stalls, sporting canvas roofs to offer shade from the sun, filled the space. 

Mandarren Square in Laos carried all kinds of goods from across the continent. There were spices from the isles of Lo, exotic birds and feathers from the south, sheepshir cheeses from Moffat and crockery from Ean-  some of the finer and more expensive plates marked by the Hudginns' three-headed boar crest. Lush fabrics from Triad graced the stalls furthest from Abby, the garments of stuffy royal navys and purples making her arms and legs itch out of reflex.

An old man with hair as white and puffy as the clouds overhead, spotted her among the sea of vibrant chartreuse, violet, and tattooes and waved her over. Abby smiled, while fighting off the internal cringe she felt and headed over to a stall draped in turquiose cotton, bottles of pickled eel heads lined up in regimented rows on the table.

"Mr. Applebraum," she said as she gave him a little nod and plucked up a small bottle of spotted grey eel heads. She flipped over the little, red tag attached to the bottle. Aphrodisiac, muscle relaxer, stimulant.

Abby placed the bottle back down on the table. Something about Mr. Applebraum's wares always made the girl feel wrong. Oh, what was it Mimi had called the old man? Fantasy peddler?

Mr. Applebraum parted his thin lips, showcasing each of his crooked, yellowed teeth and blood red gums.

By all the gods, Lucy meowed, this man has teeth more yellowed than the ancient texts. He nipped Abby's ankle. Love, get him to shut his mouth. Please, for all our sakes.

"How are ye, child?"

He spoke with an eclectic accent, put together from the man's decades at sea. A silver dragon earring hung from his left lobe, a titan rising from the surf expertly inked on his right bicep.

"I'm good," Abby said, her eyes wandering over the stall of sea glass two tables down. The Fragillian stones shone, as if each one contained a mini rainbow. Abby thought of Poppy, the rainbow hidden beneath layers of expensive silks, and smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine. Would be better if that ole maid of yers were around. Tell me that fine lass is here?"

He leaned over his table, grey chest hairs peeking out of his dirty tunic. He licked his lips like a dog who's got a tasty bit of food left on his face. Abby cringed. Mr. Applebraum's adoration was a very gross, very adult affair.

"She's here." Abby poked at one of the eel jars. "You know she doesn't like you, right?"

Applebraum snickered. "She's just playing hard to get. I see the way she saunters away from my watchful eyes. The way she shakes, it's fer show."