Anaya
The vibrant petals of the wildflowers burst from the blades of grass covering the hillside, reaching for Anaya’s fingertips hungrily as she sang softly to them. She brushed her hand over them lightly, plucking the most beautiful ones, rich purples and deep oranges, and dropping them into her lap. Then she set to work, her fingers working quickly in an intricate dance, weaving the delicate stems into dainty headbands.
Around her, the people of Torg Uyen bustled to and fro, going about their business and generally disregarding her. She was used to their cold indifference, and for the most part, she found this preferable because it allowed her to observe the crowd without much interference. She was always watching, searching for her mage.
Her stomach rumbled loudly and she pressed a hand to it to quell the discomfort. She hadn’t had a proper meal in days and she was growing desperate. Checking to make sure that no one was watching, she waved her hand over the grass beside her once more, encouraging the brightly colored petals to take on a soft bluish hue instead.
When she had her first colorful headband completed, she set it atop her head, smiling to herself. Then she repeated the process a few more times, spreading her skirt out like a blanket on the grass and placing each of the headbands in an arc around her, an invitation to passersby.
Now all she had to do was wait. Surely some dashing young man would come by and purchase one to win his lady’s heart. Or even better, a little girl with her father wrapped around her finger.
Anaya’s eyes landed on a little blonde girl toddling along between her parents. The little girl’s father looked gruff and unfriendly, but his wife looked kind enough. Plastering a broad smile on her face, Anaya called out when they drew near.
“Flower crown for the little princess?”
As she’d hoped, the little girl spotted her and her face lit up with glee. In an instant, the child was trying to wrench free of her father’s grip, determined to get her hands on one of the headbands. Her tiny features scrunched up in frustration as her father held fast to her little wrist.
“Not now, Tashi,” the little girl’s mother cautioned, adopting a tone that was completely at odds with the pleasant smile she’d been wearing a moment earlier. Her eyes darted up to her husband anxiously and she flinched away from his scowl.
But the girl was not to dissuaded, and she let out a wail of protest, throwing herself about until she was able to loosen the grip on her arm and break away. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her over to Anaya’s place on the hill and stared at the assortment of flowery accessories.
The girl’s parents arrived a moment later, her father glaring at Anaya with disgust. The woman, however, seemed merely annoyed by the little girl’s outburst. Anaya maintained her smile, carefully lifting one of the crowns up and placing it atop the little girl’s head before they could pull their daughter away.
“See? It’s just perfect,” Anaya said pleasantly even as the girl’s mother attempted to usher her daughter out of reach.
“Enough with your tricks, Makara. Just tell us how much and let us alone,” the man grumbled, digging in his pocket.
Anaya turned her face up to his, her lips twisting into a knowing smirk. “Just three silver coins today, sir. And I must say, you have a beautiful family.”
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He scowled, but after a moment, he dropped a few coins into her palm and regained his grip on his child, turning the family away.
“Bunch of nasty bums,” he muttered, walking away.
Anaya tried to ignore those words. She knew better than to respond. After all, she’d survived much more than a few grumbles since she’d been in the city. She’d been spat on, called names, chased out of the park by patrollers. There was a reason the Makara people never stayed long in these towns.
Looking down into her hand, she realized that the man had played a trick of his own. She held only two silver coins and a small button, which she tossed away angrily into the grass, and then leaned over to pick it up again because she couldn’t abide by littering.
Three silvers would’ve been enough for a hunk of bread and a bit of stew from the inn, but two silvers wouldn’t get her anything at all.
Her stomach grumbled again and she gave a deep sigh, rising to her feet and shaking out her skirt so that the flowery headbands scattered at her feet. With a word and a wave of her hand, they sank down into the grass just as quickly as they had popped up for her earlier. No sense leaving them laying around where anybody could grab them. They were her gift, and if the people couldn’t appreciate her for them, then she would simply keep them to herself.
With one last look around the park, she scanned the faces, wondering if she might find another mark. Or perhaps, the mage she sought. But it was no use, and she pulled her cloak up over her head, turning toward the open marketplace.
She knew her ancestors wouldn’t approve of her thievery, but she had convinced herself that they would understand in the end. She wasn’t just stealing for fun, after all. She needed food to live, especially if she was going to reclaim Eliera’s lost divining rods. This was about survival and saving her people, and she always made sure to pay back the vendors when she did manage to get enough coin.
She hunched her shoulders and kept her head down as she maneuvered through the crowd, averting her eyes as best she could. The brightly patterned layers of fabric that made up her skirt were dirty and fading. Still, it was easy to pick out her origins in the crowd, her jet black curls falling around her shoulders beneath the swirl of her ornate blue hood. The locals gave her nasty looks and she heard someone mutter a derogatory remark. The Makara people had been traveling through Torg Uyen for decades, following the Trail of Lost Hope, but they had never earned acceptance here. She had gone against all advice from the elder women of her tribe when she decided to stay in the city for a year, desperate to find some sign of the missing divining rods that belonged to the matriarch of her tribe.
As she neared a fish stand, she eyed one of the large dried fish hanging from a hook. The vendor was busy, his back turned to her, as she inched closer. She was just about to reach out for it when a broad shouldered man stepped in front of her, blocking her way.
He peered down at her with a gap-toothed smile, his lips curling oddly around the short tusks at either side of his mouth, and wrapped one meaty hand around her upper arm.
“No you don’t,” he said in a menacing tone.
Anaya tried to pull away, feigning innocence. “No I don’t, what?”
He gave a soft chuckle, but his grip tightened, and she began to panic. “I’ve seen you around before. The honest folk on this street have asked me to keep an eye out. Now, you’d best run along before I call one of those guards over here and you have real problems. Why don’t you go back out to the park and do one of those pretty little dances the men like so much, eh? Surely that’ll buy you a warm bed and a meal for a night.”
She twisted free, although she suspected it was only because he wanted her to. She was under no illusion that she could overpower the man.
“No, thank you,” she answered, seething. “I think I’d better be on my way.”
He gave a snort, but made no move to follow her as she turned and melted back into the crowd as best she could.
Before she could get very far, the air around her was filled with a buzzing sound, an angry crackling unlike anything she’d ever heard. She turned just in time to see a spark of color shoot straight up into the sky, green light exploding over the heads of the crowd and showering down in every direction. There was shouting, and then everyone was pushing and shoving, trampling her skirts underfoot as she fought to stay upright. She stumbled, hitting the ground and scraping her palms, but she clawed her way back to her feet, desperate to find the source of the light. Her mage.