The brown-haired girl walked at the edge of the group of girls, not taking part in their happy chatter. As the daughter of a very minor noble, someone who had been of little consequence even when he was alive, she might perhaps have managed to fit in, but not with her gift of magic being what it was. She remained silent and let the noise of both group and marketplace wash over her. The square was filled with people from all walks of life. Vendors hawked their wares, shoppers paused to admire things at the various stalls, and children dashed haphazardly through the crowd. She longed to join them. Oh, they wouldn’t find her little talent any more appealing, but in her experience the children of merchants and commoners were far more willing to make an effort than those of nobles. It helped, too, that they were more authentic -- and they had far less to hide.
“Pay attention please, Miss Ris.” The voice of the group’s chaperone cut through her thoughts. “We wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
Lost. The thought was a pleasant one. Amuné’s main reason for coming on the trip was because the fields and wooded area near the boarding school were soaked by a week’s worth of dreary, rainy days and far too muddy to play in without destroying her clothes. She was restless from being shut in all week and had jumped at the chance to go somewhere, anywhere else. But maybe it had been a poor decision. The other girls gravitated towards the stalls with the fancier items, particularly rolls of cloth or jewelry, though it met with dislike as often as approval upon closer inspection. She’d had enough of such things after the first few stops. Even worse was the crowd of people pressing at her mind, their emotions and the strongest of their thoughts battering at her so her head ached.
But if she went off on her own, she could look at what she liked, and she could find somewhere with fewer people and take a break from the unrelenting noise in her head. Now that the thought had occurred to her, it was irresistible. The girl watched carefully as the group moved slowly along. Her chance came when they stopped at yet another table displaying colorful cloth. Ms. Primm was drawn into a discussion about what fabrics were appropriate for casual dress, and which should only be used for fancier things. With the chaperone’s watchful eye directed elsewhere, slipping away wouldn’t be difficult. Smiling to herself, Amuné let the flow of those around them carry her off.
Before long she was in a different part of the market entirely. Here were the booths selling produce, fruits and vegetables. There were even some early peaches, a fruit she had a great fondness for as there were a number of peach trees on the land her parents had owned. Amuné approached the vendor, shyly getting the man’s attention. If seeing a lone noble girl alone surprised him, he hid it well, possibly because he expected to be able to get a far better price. He was mistaken. She might be young but she knew how to choose the soft, fuzzy fruit, and while she’d not exactly been taught to haggle she’d snuck off into town and watched people often enough to have a reasonable idea of what she was doing. But he couldn’t hide his surprise where the child didn’t sense it, nor could he hide his amusement or the touch of respect he felt when she did not fall for most of his bargaining ploys. It helped that she’d become used to seeing past words to the feelings beneath them, but he was also a rather loud thinker, easily able to be picked out over the general din of emotions.
With a small bag holding her purchase on her arm and her coinpurse somewhat lighter, Amuné headed for the edge of the stalls. The number of people lessened considerably even a single street away, and she sighed in relief. She’d not realized just how crushed she’d felt until the pressure was removed. She stopped by a bakery, currently closed so the usual staff could run their own stall in the market, and pulled out one of her peaches. It had the weaker taste of early fruit, but as the first one she’d had that year it was wonderful.
“Oi.” The voice belonged to another child about her age, a boy with a group of friends. Their clothing indicated they were commoners, and fairly poor even compared to most. “Whatcha doin’, all on your lonesome?”
Amuné’s brows drew together in the beginnings of a frown. They’d made no overt threat, though there was a faint undercurrent of dislike. But that was no reason to be impolite. “Enjoying the quiet,” she replied. “I don’t really like crowds.”
“If’n ya don’t like crowds, ya shouldn’t’ve come,” another boy pointed out, and several of them laughed. “Go back to your nursemaid, brat. Nobles shouldn’t be nosing around where they ain’t wanted.” At that she drew herself up to her full height, though she was still an inch or so shorter than the leader. “I’m not ‘nosing’,” she informed them. “I wasn’t bothering anyone, nor do I intend to. Please leave me be.”
“I think you misunderstand.” The leader stepped forward, the largest of the boys moving up to his side. “You should leave. You ain’t welcome here, shifter scum.”
“Yeah, you and your kind should get out of Artanis!”
Taken aback, Amuné looked at the scruffy boys in surprise. She didn’t think their dislike was that intense. More likely they were trying to be tough, though how flinging insults at a single girl was tough was beyond her. She’d seen her schoolmates do similar things. “Hate solves nothing. It just causes trouble,” she said softly. But she wouldn’t stay. She could find somewhere else. “I’m sorry you feel that way about shifters. I hope things will improve between humans and shifters soon.”
“Things don’t need to improve. We hate people like you!” The girl didn’t bother saying anything further after the snapped retort, just murmuring an “excuse me” as she tried to slip past the boys. They’d gotten entirely too close, and made no effort to move aside. As she passed them, she bumped into the shoulder of one of the boys, and the bare skin of her arm brushed against his. Suddenly things made sense. “You’re not angry, you’re afraid,” she blurted, too startled by the revelation to check herself. She knew right away that was one of the worst things she could have said. She was in trouble now, as the other kids moved to surround her completely and cut off any chance of escape. Even if she could get away, she couldn’t run well in the layers of skirts and petticoats that she had to wear, and yet again she cursed the strict caretakers. At least a couple of them looked reluctant to hit a girl, but she’d made a number of them angry enough that it wouldn’t make much of a difference. With no other options, she squared her shoulders and prepared to do what she could to defend herself.
“Pay attention please, Miss Ris.” The voice of the group’s chaperone cut through her thoughts. “We wouldn’t want you getting lost.”
Lost. The thought was a pleasant one. Amuné’s main reason for coming on the trip was because the fields and wooded area near the boarding school were soaked by a week’s worth of dreary, rainy days and far too muddy to play in without destroying her clothes. She was restless from being shut in all week and had jumped at the chance to go somewhere, anywhere else. But maybe it had been a poor decision. The other girls gravitated towards the stalls with the fancier items, particularly rolls of cloth or jewelry, though it met with dislike as often as approval upon closer inspection. She’d had enough of such things after the first few stops. Even worse was the crowd of people pressing at her mind, their emotions and the strongest of their thoughts battering at her so her head ached.
But if she went off on her own, she could look at what she liked, and she could find somewhere with fewer people and take a break from the unrelenting noise in her head. Now that the thought had occurred to her, it was irresistible. The girl watched carefully as the group moved slowly along. Her chance came when they stopped at yet another table displaying colorful cloth. Ms. Primm was drawn into a discussion about what fabrics were appropriate for casual dress, and which should only be used for fancier things. With the chaperone’s watchful eye directed elsewhere, slipping away wouldn’t be difficult. Smiling to herself, Amuné let the flow of those around them carry her off.
Before long she was in a different part of the market entirely. Here were the booths selling produce, fruits and vegetables. There were even some early peaches, a fruit she had a great fondness for as there were a number of peach trees on the land her parents had owned. Amuné approached the vendor, shyly getting the man’s attention. If seeing a lone noble girl alone surprised him, he hid it well, possibly because he expected to be able to get a far better price. He was mistaken. She might be young but she knew how to choose the soft, fuzzy fruit, and while she’d not exactly been taught to haggle she’d snuck off into town and watched people often enough to have a reasonable idea of what she was doing. But he couldn’t hide his surprise where the child didn’t sense it, nor could he hide his amusement or the touch of respect he felt when she did not fall for most of his bargaining ploys. It helped that she’d become used to seeing past words to the feelings beneath them, but he was also a rather loud thinker, easily able to be picked out over the general din of emotions.
With a small bag holding her purchase on her arm and her coinpurse somewhat lighter, Amuné headed for the edge of the stalls. The number of people lessened considerably even a single street away, and she sighed in relief. She’d not realized just how crushed she’d felt until the pressure was removed. She stopped by a bakery, currently closed so the usual staff could run their own stall in the market, and pulled out one of her peaches. It had the weaker taste of early fruit, but as the first one she’d had that year it was wonderful.
“Oi.” The voice belonged to another child about her age, a boy with a group of friends. Their clothing indicated they were commoners, and fairly poor even compared to most. “Whatcha doin’, all on your lonesome?”
Amuné’s brows drew together in the beginnings of a frown. They’d made no overt threat, though there was a faint undercurrent of dislike. But that was no reason to be impolite. “Enjoying the quiet,” she replied. “I don’t really like crowds.”
“If’n ya don’t like crowds, ya shouldn’t’ve come,” another boy pointed out, and several of them laughed. “Go back to your nursemaid, brat. Nobles shouldn’t be nosing around where they ain’t wanted.” At that she drew herself up to her full height, though she was still an inch or so shorter than the leader. “I’m not ‘nosing’,” she informed them. “I wasn’t bothering anyone, nor do I intend to. Please leave me be.”
“I think you misunderstand.” The leader stepped forward, the largest of the boys moving up to his side. “You should leave. You ain’t welcome here, shifter scum.”
“Yeah, you and your kind should get out of Artanis!”
Taken aback, Amuné looked at the scruffy boys in surprise. She didn’t think their dislike was that intense. More likely they were trying to be tough, though how flinging insults at a single girl was tough was beyond her. She’d seen her schoolmates do similar things. “Hate solves nothing. It just causes trouble,” she said softly. But she wouldn’t stay. She could find somewhere else. “I’m sorry you feel that way about shifters. I hope things will improve between humans and shifters soon.”
“Things don’t need to improve. We hate people like you!” The girl didn’t bother saying anything further after the snapped retort, just murmuring an “excuse me” as she tried to slip past the boys. They’d gotten entirely too close, and made no effort to move aside. As she passed them, she bumped into the shoulder of one of the boys, and the bare skin of her arm brushed against his. Suddenly things made sense. “You’re not angry, you’re afraid,” she blurted, too startled by the revelation to check herself. She knew right away that was one of the worst things she could have said. She was in trouble now, as the other kids moved to surround her completely and cut off any chance of escape. Even if she could get away, she couldn’t run well in the layers of skirts and petticoats that she had to wear, and yet again she cursed the strict caretakers. At least a couple of them looked reluctant to hit a girl, but she’d made a number of them angry enough that it wouldn’t make much of a difference. With no other options, she squared her shoulders and prepared to do what she could to defend herself.
