Sora's Quest (15 page)

If anything, this infuriated her even more.

Crash turned away, looking for a sound in the alley; so he didn't see the confusing mess of emotions pass over Sora's face.
Evil bastard!
she thought, watching him. She blinked back hot tears, regaining her self-control, angry for letting in that moment of weakness. Her teeth dug into her lip, showing her stab at willpower.

Then she followed Crash back into the crowded streets. She was glad that she had the bags to carry because they hid her shaking hands.

The two visited several more shops. Sora stayed silent, as she'd been told. The sun started to set, smearing a gory mess across the sky. The crowds thinned to a few scattered people. Even as she watched, they seemed to slowly melt into the surrounding streets. As though by magic, the square was empty by just past 4 o'clock, draining with the sinking sun.

She looked around in wonder at the wide-open cobblestone streets scattered with scraps of cloth and paper, the only remnants of the busy market. There was a large fountain in the middle of the square with water splashing quietly down its sides; she wondered if it had been there before. The buildings around the square were closed, the windows dark, already shut down for the day.

Then she noticed Crash counting on his fingers, ticking off items on a mental list. "All we need now is a map," he muttered to himself.

Sora sighed; one more item to add to her already sore arms. Even an extra piece of paper sounded too heavy to carry. All she wanted to do was sit down and rest.

"Girl,” he beckoned to her unexpectedly.
I have a name, you know.
Then he turned and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow.

Sora stared after him, speechless. She thought of dropping the packages and making a run for it, but she knew she wouldn't get far. Finally, she started after him, juggling the bags in her arms. The packages teetered precariously. “A map of Fennbog swamp?” she called. “But no one has ever crossed it.”

“That remains to be seen,” Crash replied, and turned down another street.

Of course.
Sora followed, still skeptical.
What good is a map when the landmarks float around?
  She had heard stories of Fennbog. More than just stories. Facts. Each rainy season completely rearranged the territory. Hundreds of miles of muck.

It was beginning to get cold. The wind picked up and the sun sank lower on the horizon, now just a blurry rim of light. The stars had crept into the sky. Several twinkled right at her, winking merrily as though laughing at her predicament, telling her all of her worries were just a big joke. She picked out the constellation of Kaelyn the Wanderer and wondered if the lady warrior was looking down at her, somehow sharing her troubles.

She smiled softly at the thought, still staring at the stars. Her astronomy teacher once told her that all of the world's stories could be found in the heavens. Each constellation had a history, a piece of lore. If one listened closely, the stars would share their stories, telling of years long past, of places long lost to the world, of secrets long forgotten by man.

Fanciful, perhaps. But the stars were still pretty to look at.

The streets they were walking through now were lined with shabby shops and pubs set low to the ground. She could hear muffled noises from the alleys they passed, grunts and hoots and bottles breaking; she quickened her step. She still did not feel safe with the assassin. He seemed to fit in with the shadows, into the odd sounds from the alleys, as though he came from a place of murky smoke and darkness.

He stopped in front of a small shop with a large domed roof. Light glowed from inside like a giant paper lantern, illuminating the streets in the immediate vicinity. Sora stared at the strange building until Crash yanked her toward the door and opened it. He took her bags, then motioned to her to go inside, a very chivalrous act for a man like him.

Sora stepped inside. With a small click, the door swung shut and Crash paused next to her. She immediately reveled in the warmth that flooded her senses, and looked around the room in wonder. Cheery lanterns graced the walls on either side of the shop. She had never seen anything quite like this, not even in Lord Fallcrest's library, which was one of her favorite places.

The small circular room was jammed full of bookshelves, which were crammed with all sorts of books. She could see the twinkle of a thousand stars through the large domed roof. Tables set up like a maze throughout the tiny shop were stacked with piles of dusty scrolls, yellowed books and wrinkled parchments. The air was heavy with the scent of paper. Sora had the sudden, intense urge to curl up in an armchair with an old book and maybe a nice cup of tea.

Crash didn't make any attempt to find the storekeeper; instead, he circled a nearby table, leafing through old papers and books. Sora waited, glancing around, until she grew impatient. "Hello?" she called. "Is anybody here?"

"A second! Just a second! Hold your horses!" was the immediate response, closely followed by the unmistakable sound of a book closing. A small cloud of dust rose above a tall stack of papers somewhere to her left. A sneeze issued from behind the table. "Hearing ain't what it used to be," muttered an ancient, scratchy voice.

Sora looked around, wondering where the owner of the voice was hiding; suddenly she saw a weathered brown hat (obviously with a person underneath it) wandering through the maze of tables.
I thought that was a decoration!
she thought in surprise.

Then out came an old man, stooped and worn, with stiff gray hair that stuck out from under the hat like the bristles of a broom. He sneezed once more and looked up at her with vivid blue eyes. Sora thought he looked like a crafty badger or a gray fox. He wiggled a thick white mustache at her and scratched his stubbly chin.

"Well, what d'ya want? Eh? I wouldn't be out this late if I were a pretty young girl like you. Getting dark these nights—darker than usual, even with a full moon, and all of those ruffians out on the streets...." He trailed off, blinking at her. Sora was too tired to reply. She shifted on her sore feet.

"But of course, I'm not a pretty young lady like you, am I? Ha ha! And I certainly don't have my own bodyguard—eh, young man?" he called over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, are you looking for something? I'm a bit scattered at the moment. Age catches up with you, you know—doesn't matter how far you travel. Just the other day I almost set this whole place on fire, spilled a candle. Not very good for business...anyway, what is it you need?"

Crash didn't answer.

"A—a map," Sora said. The man's rambling was a little hard to follow. Now that she was in a warm room, the full force of her exhaustion hit her; she wanted to take a nap right there on the floor.

The storekeeper turned away and threw up his arms, making a loud sound of annoyance. He stalked off toward one of the back tables. "'A map,' she says, 'I need a map!' Well that's certainly a big request! A map of what, exactly? The world? Hasn't been made yet. The oceans? Mostly uncharted, except for the coasts. How about further inland? The City of Crowns? A grand sight, to be sure. The Temple of the North Wind? You'll need to join their discipleship to go there. Sorry if that spoils your plans.” He paused and looked her over. Sora knew she looked a mess—her hair was relatively straight, but her clothes were muddy and wrinkled from her nights spent in the woods. The storekeeper, however, seemed to look right past all the stains. “You seem like a well-off patron,” he said, and eyed their bags by the door. “Are you taking a vacation? A little getaway? I know of some great spots."

Sora couldn't answer the strange old man. Her mouth was dry; she was overwhelmed by the possibilities. The silence stretched—
get a hold of yourself!
She swallowed with a force of will.

Then Crash spoke up, saving her from further embarrassment. "A map of Fennbog,” he said pointedly. “The
full
swamp."

The man frowned at him, appearing genuinely concerned. “Have you lost your wits, man? Fennbog swamp has never been traveled, let alone mapped. The geography changes each season, anyhow. You can't map the weather!” And then he laughed, throwing back his head, spittle flying from his lips. Sora didn't think the joke was that funny. The man calmed down, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Besides,” he finished, “They say that swamp is cursed.”

Sora gave Crash a pointed look. She had tried to warn the men days ago, but of course, no one had listened.

“Right,” Crash said, and took an unexpected step toward her. “But we have this.” And he nudged Sora with his shoulder. She stumbled forward, her mouth opening in surprise.

The old man stared at her, his eyes narrowing, then his gaze slowly traveled down her face, to her neck, to the chain that wound under her shirt. With a huff of annoyance, Sora pulled the Cat's Eye into the open. She knew this was what Crash wanted, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't see how a magical necklace would help in the swamp.

The man gazed at the stone. His eyebrows rising almost into the rim of his hat, he took a steady step toward her. “Is that....” he murmured, still staring. “Is that....”

“A Cat's Eye,” Crash said bluntly.

“But...I haven't seen one since I was a lad. Where...where would you get such a thing?”

Sora opened her mouth to speak, but Crash cut her off again. “No matter,” he grunted. “But to my understanding, you are a specialist on such things, are you not? How might it lead us through the swamp?”

“'Lead us through the swamp?'” Sora balked, turning to stare at Crash in horror. Was she to be responsible for navigating Fennbog? Ludicrous!

The old man saw the look on her face and grinned again, displaying the gaps between his yellowed teeth. “Why, yes, my girl,” he said, and nodded once again to her necklace. Sora let it slip back under her shirt, disliking the way his eyes lingered on the artifact. “Yes, indeed. The Cat's Eye works as a compass of sorts. It leads you...to where you want to go.” Then he held up a finger. “To where you
truly
want to go.”

Sora hadn't been expecting that. She turned to glance at Crash, her eyebrow raised skeptically. The assassin didn't meet her gaze; he was propped up against a wall, arms crossed, distinctly unimpressed.

“How do you mean?” she asked, turning back to the mapmaker.

“I mean...that you can ask it to lead you through the swamp. You can ask it to direct you. But the Cat's Eye has whims of its own. If it senses that you want to be somewhere else...well, then it might just take you there instead.”

Sora paled at this, a myriad of possibilities running through her head. She touched the stone subconsciously under her shirt, wishing that it was more familiar to her, that it didn't feel so mischievous and unpredictable.

She turned back to the storekeeper to see a small, stormy cloud of dust rising in the air. He was scuffling from table to table, shuffling through parchment like a madman, stacking and unstacking. Finally from a table at the back of the room he pulled a large book, almost too heavy to lift, bound in wood and string. He opened it wide, the pages crackling.

"Ah, here we are," he muttered. Sora stepped around the tables and paused behind him, peering over his shoulder, trying to see around his wide hat. "An older tome, to be sure, but I can't imagine much has changed. This is a history of sorts. It speaks of the War of the Races. Bought it quite a few decades ago while I was mapping the changes in land formations....” His voice petered off as he caught a cold glance from Crash. “Right. This section here tells of the Cat's Eye, perhaps on a brief page. Not much is known of them anymore, you know. Nor ever, I suspect. But here it is, here it is...yes.”  Sora saw a small drawing of an orb that looked similar to the Cat's-Eye stone. She recognized the smooth swirl at its center, the black lines highlighting its glow. The letters were heavy and ornate, drawn with an artist's hand.

“The stones were used to lead armies through dense mist, across stormy oceans and treacherous terrain,” he quoted. “They were essential in the Battle of Aerobourne, when the humans fought against the Harpies....The Harpy ships flew above-ground, powered by sunstones that were mined from the ocean....”

Crash snorted. Sora blinked, realizing she had been holding her breath, spellbound. She had already been imagining the sweeping masts, billowing sails and great gusts of wind that had lifted the flying ships into the air, up through the clouds, powered by shining white sunstones. She had read stories of the Battle of Aerobourne before.

“A bearer had to keep firm control of his thoughts and desires while leading a legion. He had to be completely loyal to the cause. Any thoughts of doubt or deceit, or a desire to run from battle, could lead the entire army into aimless circles. Above all, the bearer must be disciplined.”

Disciplined.
The word fell on Sora's ears like a heavy stone.
Am I?
She quickly recounted several times she had refused an extra scone at breakfast, or had waited patiently through her morning studies for an afternoon ride. And yet, traveling with Crash and Dorian had showed her a different kind of discipline. A whole new world of hardship, where one had to hunt each night, wait an hour or more for a warm meal, constantly cover one's trail, and take good care of the horses.

“How much discipline?” Sora asked. Her voice wavered only slightly.