Our next stop is Shale, a small, energetic town that never sleeps and never ever stops talking. It’s like every single holiday in the Empire has gathered here. The streets are decorated with paper flags that tremble in the wind. There are three main marketplaces and all the houses in town were built around them like seats surrounding an arena.

“The marketplaces have names,” Steel explained. “Red, Golden, and Brown. Red sells food—meat, fish, plants, ale. Golden sells clothes, fabrics, furs, and buttons. Now we are heading to Brown. It’s where they sell everything else.”

And “everything else” is exactly the right way to put it. They have exotic birds in cages. They have tiny dolls made of colored glass. They have boxes that play music when you lift the lid. They have… well, pretty much everything to entertain a bored rich customer. The majority of the goods are brought from overseas so they cost an arm and a leg.

Shale is red. The bricks of the houses, the roof tiles, even the mud—all red, red, red. Somehow, during our voyage, we inadvertently crossed the summer’s border and stepped into the domain of autumn. The trees are red and yellow. The flowers bloom their last, desperately trying to hold on to their bright colors but losing them inevitably.

Isn’t it strange? Back at home, with Nora, I have never looked around. I was fixed on her and nothing else. After Jaro was born, he became another fascination. But the surroundings never interested me.

And now? My senses are heightened. I pick up on every little detail. And the closer we get to the Steppe, the stronger I feel it. It’s like the fog inside of me is melting away and everything is becoming crystal clear. I can’t close my eyes and shut my senses, and I don’t want to! I want it all. I want to absorb it, to bathe in it, to get lost in it.

Stepping onto the street of Shale is like finding yourself amid a street party. It carries you away, in an elegant graceful dance and seduces you with a mixture of scents and blinds you with its rich colors. The palette is completely new to my eyes—all these strong, heavy colors of autumn. Scarlet, and chocolate-brown, and maroon like chestnuts prepared for roasting, and deep-yellow like cider spiced with cinnamon…

The statue of Mother Earth welcomes us at the city gates. Standing as high as a three-story building, it’s the tallest statue I have seen in my life… or after. She is made of white stone, with hair swaying gently as if in a mild breeze and her hands extend into the sky, as a tribute to the Father God – Eternal Sky.

We arrived in the town accurately in Mid-fall eve, so the statue is bathing in gifts: wreaths, baskets full of fruit and vegetables, embroidered cloths, shells, apple pies, jars of milk and wine, spices and grains in tiny bags, scented candles… and even stranger gifts, like bars of soap and ugly dolls made of cheap fabric.

On our way here Anya picked up some dry grass and wildflowers, and now she sits in the back of the wagon, twisting them this way and that way, fashioning something… well, my best guess is that it’s a wreath, albeit a strange one.

She also has a small wooden box full of trinkets. It’s like a treasury of a small girl. There are beads and ribbons and buttons and bits of golden thread and scraps of fabrics and whatnot. Anya dips her fingers inside and chooses carefully, giving each item a thorough inspection. When she’s finished, I peer curiously over her shoulder. An effigy, that’s what it is.

“What’s that?” Jaro asks.

“I believe it’s a doll,” she replies with a chuckle.

“Why did you make it?”

“I always make dolls for the goddess. I think this one turned out pretty nice.”

“That’s an elaborate gift. What are you going to ask of her?”

“The same thing I ask every time,” she says simply. “Deliverance.”

* * *

We stop at the inn called Grand. Ironically it turns out to be anything but. It’s a tiny place, hidden in an alley, away from large crowds. This isolated location might be the reason why, on regular days, it doesn’t see a whole lot of customers. Today, it’s lively, but not too cramped.

Inside it smells of beer and ale, freshly baked bread and roasted meat, cheap tobacco and rain-soaked wool. Still, it’s nice. There is a long narrow table that divides the room into two. Six smaller tables near the walls. The floors and the wall panels are made of dark wood, and I smell a lingering aroma of polishing beeswax.

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There is an old piano in the corner. A girl and a boy, who I assume are the innkeeper’s children, take turns to play it. They play well, too—the girl tends to rush the tempo a little, and the boy bangs at the keys as if he hates the old instrument and is desperately trying to break the thing, but all in all the music is quite pleasant, and there are two over-enthusiastic couples who even manage to dance to it. Patrons play cards, eat and drink.

Anya disappears, probably taking shelter in her room on the second floor. Steel orders some bread and stew and beer for Jaro and himself. He also orders a jug of Listerian wine and then finds a vacant place near the hearth. It’s warm and it smells even nicer here. Some pinewood logs are burning in the fireplace, and the delicate waft is like a tiny melody, subtle yet persistent, that weaves its way through louder sounds without letting them overwhelm her.

There are two tables set for games. The one on the right side of the room is for plain old cards. The one on the left—for something called Blind Blades, a complex game involving a multi-colored playing field, dice and some pieces of wood etched with letters, numbers, and symbols.

Jaro becomes interested in it the moments he sets his eyes upon it. He longs to learn the rules and asks Steel questions like:

“And what happens if I don’t choose the right symbol in time?” (“You’re screwed.”)

Or:

“What if a player gets everything right in the first round?” (“Then he wins obviously, but believe me, boy, I have never heard of such a thing ever happening.”)

“I wish I could try,” Jaro says then.

“It’s not a game for newbies. Don’t be a fool, boy.”

Steal lounges back in his chair, enjoying his wine, the warmth of the hearth and the lingering aroma of burning pine. He looks like a cat. A rather drunk cat.

I look at Jaro.

“Don’t even think about it! We don’t have much money, and if we lose, that means we’re going back home, abandoning our mission.”

“We’re not going home, Kara! I’m not a child, you know. I know the risks. But think about it. You could help me with this.”

“Me?”

“Look,” he leans closer to the fire as he speaks, so nobody can see or hear him talk. “This game is not that difficult.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Well… for me. For us. The important thing here is a bit of luck—guessing the symbols on the wooden planks that your opponents hold. You can look at them for me and tell me, and then I can play and win.”

“You propose that we cheat?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“No,” I say after a few seconds. “No, Jar! It’s all but a game for you, isn’t it? But if you cheat and someone suspects it, then… I don’t know what they are going to do! They will beat you. They can even kill you for this.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be such an idiot, then.”

“I’ll be fine, Kara. No one is going to know. And we need the money—once we’re in Horta, we will need a horse and food and equipment to reach My Little Wanderer. The pieces master Steel is paying me aren’t going to be enough. And…”

He pauses.

“And there is also the matter of me going back home after we’re done.”

Home. Of course. I keep forgetting he still would need to get back home after all this is over. He will need the funds, especially if I’m not around anymore.

“Kara, it’s… it’s the best chance I’ll probably get.”

“But it’s cheating.”

“Sometimes you have to cheat a little, for the greater good.”

“Did you learn that from books?”

He doesn’t reply. His mind is already somewhere else.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“No!”

“Okay then.”

He polishes off his beer and stands up. And then, to my utter horror, he moves through the crowd towards the table on the left side of the room.

“Can I join in?” he asks cheerfully.

“Can you play?” a gray-bearded man at the table looks at him askance, stirring the dice in a large wooden mug. His doubt is understandable. Jaro doesn’t look like someone who can play. He also doesn’t look like someone who can pay up.

“Yes, of course, I can play,” he nods. “And I have money!”

He digs out his coin purse and weighs it on his palm. I groan. What are you doing, Jar! It’s all our money!

“Right…” the grey beard still eyes him skeptically but relents. “If you say so. Be my guest.”

He waves at the empty seat and Jaro takes it without hesitation.

“I told you I am not going to help you,” I hiss.

“Okay,” he replies, not addressing anyone in particular.

He is so calm. I curse under my breath. He knows I’m not going to leave him, so he doesn’t leave me any choice but to comply. And it makes me so angry I almost let him drown. Arrogant brat! I should let you lose your shirt—and your pants, too, for good measure. That would teach you a lesson!

But I can’t. My fate depends on it. If he loses, we go home. To a newlywed Nora and her amazing new life.

So I fly up to Jaro and perch on his shoulder.

“I hate you,” I whisper. “I hate you so much right now! You insufferable egocentric little…”

“So we’re doing it then?”

The question is for me, but he addresses the grey-bearded guy, who is apparently in charge of the game.

“Yes,” he says overturning the cup and letting the dice, all six of them, to roll out onto the playing field.

“Yes,” I echo testily.

And then we start the game of Blind Blades.