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smackenzieThe road they were on went to the south gate, where a couple of guardsmen were standing guard. They asked Hazel and the cart driver what business they had in the city, where they were coming from, how long they planned to stay. Hazel stuck to her story about her mythical cousin but admitted in truth she wasn't sure how long she would be there. She did ask for good directions to the glassmakers' quarter, though, and the guards' directions seemed much clearer and more accurate than the cart driver's.
The cart driver gave her a ride as far as he could, which turned out to be pretty far into the city. He was a day early for the market so as to be ready when it opened early in the morning, but as he explained to Hazel, that also meant he had to stay with his cheese all night to make sure no one stole it. There were guards who were supposedly paid to watch the goods of people who traveled from a distance to arrive early, but the cart driver himself had had trouble once with people making off with his cheese, and personally he suspected the guards. Hazel said maybe he just needed a good dog. He said his dogs would just try to herd the thieves, but probably wouldn't do a great job of protecting his cheese.
He wished Hazel luck in finding her cousin and said if she was at all interested, the market was tomorrow and if she hadn't found her cousin by then, the woman might be there. She thanked him for the ride, made sure Toast's rope leash was securely tied around his collar, shifted her shoulders under her pack, and headed off towards the glassmakers' quarter, because she had directions.
The king's city was without question the biggest, most crowded place Hazel had ever been. As she walked down streets and through small neighborhood squares, she thanked the gods and the saints that she was not afraid of crowds, and that Toast wasn't either. He barked at everything and everyone, but the horses and carts and carriages and all the people weren't spooking him at all.
Hazel made her way though neighborhoods of artisans, past houses and shops and the occasional official-looking building and pubs and stables and temples and at least one space for an open-air market. Every so often there would be a sign on the side of a building at a corner, pointing the way to a particular government office or a site of historical interest or even something like "Butcheries this way." She passed public wells and two public bathhouses and a public reading room with long sheets of what looked like official announcements printed on them. She passed through what she thought might be the bookbinders' quarter, binderies and booksellers and printers with their doors and front windows open to the late-afternoon breeze.
She walked by inns and rooming houses and after a while she decided she should find a place to stay for the night, someplace she could put down her pack and wash her face and eat something, and in the morning she'd start looking for the prince in earnest. The first place she found that would take dogs was called The Jumping Trout, and wasn't so much a rooming house as a pub called The Jumping Trout with an inn attached. But the room was clean enough and it seemed to be in a good enough area, as centrally-located as any other place she'd been and reasonably safe, and she could keep Toast with her.
Hazel had dinner in the pub, because she could, and afterwards she walked around the neighborhood a little bit, just to get an idea of what it was like and what she was near. The shops were closed but houses had their lights on and she heard music coming from a small pub around a corner, and she thought she might not actually mind staying here until she found the prince, however long that took.
That night she tried to cast a searching charm of her own, a version of the one Marcus had cast back in Redhill, but it wasn't any more successful than his had been, although she didn't get any visions of naked men in bathhouses. She thought maybe she couldn't narrow her search because she wasn't as old or as experienced as Marcus in casting those kinds of trances, but it was possible they just didn't work that well. No matter, she'd find him somehow. She had to, if Marcus was right - it was her Destiny.
words: 773
total words: 10,035
The cart driver gave her a ride as far as he could, which turned out to be pretty far into the city. He was a day early for the market so as to be ready when it opened early in the morning, but as he explained to Hazel, that also meant he had to stay with his cheese all night to make sure no one stole it. There were guards who were supposedly paid to watch the goods of people who traveled from a distance to arrive early, but the cart driver himself had had trouble once with people making off with his cheese, and personally he suspected the guards. Hazel said maybe he just needed a good dog. He said his dogs would just try to herd the thieves, but probably wouldn't do a great job of protecting his cheese.
He wished Hazel luck in finding her cousin and said if she was at all interested, the market was tomorrow and if she hadn't found her cousin by then, the woman might be there. She thanked him for the ride, made sure Toast's rope leash was securely tied around his collar, shifted her shoulders under her pack, and headed off towards the glassmakers' quarter, because she had directions.
The king's city was without question the biggest, most crowded place Hazel had ever been. As she walked down streets and through small neighborhood squares, she thanked the gods and the saints that she was not afraid of crowds, and that Toast wasn't either. He barked at everything and everyone, but the horses and carts and carriages and all the people weren't spooking him at all.
Hazel made her way though neighborhoods of artisans, past houses and shops and the occasional official-looking building and pubs and stables and temples and at least one space for an open-air market. Every so often there would be a sign on the side of a building at a corner, pointing the way to a particular government office or a site of historical interest or even something like "Butcheries this way." She passed public wells and two public bathhouses and a public reading room with long sheets of what looked like official announcements printed on them. She passed through what she thought might be the bookbinders' quarter, binderies and booksellers and printers with their doors and front windows open to the late-afternoon breeze.
She walked by inns and rooming houses and after a while she decided she should find a place to stay for the night, someplace she could put down her pack and wash her face and eat something, and in the morning she'd start looking for the prince in earnest. The first place she found that would take dogs was called The Jumping Trout, and wasn't so much a rooming house as a pub called The Jumping Trout with an inn attached. But the room was clean enough and it seemed to be in a good enough area, as centrally-located as any other place she'd been and reasonably safe, and she could keep Toast with her.
Hazel had dinner in the pub, because she could, and afterwards she walked around the neighborhood a little bit, just to get an idea of what it was like and what she was near. The shops were closed but houses had their lights on and she heard music coming from a small pub around a corner, and she thought she might not actually mind staying here until she found the prince, however long that took.
That night she tried to cast a searching charm of her own, a version of the one Marcus had cast back in Redhill, but it wasn't any more successful than his had been, although she didn't get any visions of naked men in bathhouses. She thought maybe she couldn't narrow her search because she wasn't as old or as experienced as Marcus in casting those kinds of trances, but it was possible they just didn't work that well. No matter, she'd find him somehow. She had to, if Marcus was right - it was her Destiny.
words: 773
total words: 10,035
