The Silver Sphere (28 page)

Shelby cut between them. "I think he'll pass!"

The dancer giggled and moved to one of Blunderbuss's men. As
she passed, the scents of myrrh and cinnamon wafted from her.

A stilt walker sauntered among their parties, clothed in violet
furs. His face was painted with a joker's mug. Swinging one leg over the Kin, he
yelled, "Free blueberry ale at the Whistler for the next hour!"

To their right, two dwarves on ponies galloped at each other
in a game of joust, their blunted lances high in the air. The crowd behind the ropes
placed bets and urged them on.

"For the throat! The throat!"

"Are ye mad? The knee! He'll lose 'is grip and fall!"

"Thirty coogles to the Slayer!"

Rainbow-colored confetti fell around them; boys with bucketsful
tossed the paper about. Kids younger than Simon and garbed in rags picked up handfuls
and ran down the lanes, screeching with laughter.

On the outskirts of the marketplace sprawled stony specialty
shops, inns, boutiques, casinos, and saloons. Balconies perched atop the humming
stores, each one offering a different tale. Red Bucket Inn, one said. Game o' the
Ace, exclaimed another.

A new kind of smell hit Shelby. Outside of the market, the inns
and taverns left the scent of cooking meat and stew thick in the air. She breathed
deep, her mouth watering.

Mummers and bards hovered by the square, darting in and out of
the conflux. Numerous bands played, their songs muddling together to create one
fantastic noise. Shelby thought she spied a thief snatch someone's purse, but before
she could check if she was right, the bandit vanished into the throng.

"Almost there," said Blunderbuss.

The Scuttlebutt sat beyond a festive band of musicians dressed
in black leather tuxedos. The name crouched over the entrance in bright green letters,
with gray statues of one man whispering into another's ear at the door. A brutish
bouncer stood at his beat.

He stared down at Shelby over a snubbed nose. "Greetings,
Blunderbuss. You are recruiting youngsters these days?"

"Friends of mine. Had their village plundered by Nightlanders."

"If I spot any Nightlanders, I'll rip them in two,"
the bouncer snarled. "Come on in."

The tavern was dark with earthy tones, and the glow of the candles
on tables flickered among shadowy faces. A pair of warriors played Nine Men's Morris
nearby, contemplating their next moves amidst the ruckus of the bar. The star-shaped
board had almost a hundred black and white pieces, all of them carved to look like
goblins, dragons, knights, and horses. Shelby thought a maiden was at the center,
but couldn't tell.

A man with a calvous dome sprinted up to Blunderbuss. His once
purple doublet had lost most of its color and was lackluster, though it fit him
well.

"Ahoy, Blunderbuss, I've had a bad day at knucklebones.
Can you help out an old friend?"

Blunderbuss handed him a fistful of silver coogles. "If
your luck is short forthwith, Mantor, stay away from the tables. You hear any news
on Malefic today?"

"It's not good. Most of the towns and villages have been
decimated. A large contingent is marching to Meracuse."

Blunderbuss turned to the Kin. "I'll take you to my section
back of the tavern. No one will bother you there."

They clung to his shadow past the rowdy patrons of the Scuttlebutt.
He led them to a roped-off area and pointed to a wooden booth. A merry fire crackled
in a small pit beside the table.

"You kids sit. No ale for you, little one." He eyed
Simon.

Shelby slid into the alcove as Max and the rest filtered in.
The wood was shiny and worn, slick to the touch, except where a few patrons had
carved their names. Across the back of the bench pressed against the wall, someone
had written a list of Blunderbuss's men.

Shelby said, "Let's eat and try to pluck any info possible.
Later we'll pick up some stuff we can use in the square, but we should go in an
hour."

Stuart nodded. "I agree. Blunderbuss seems okay. I was worried
a bit. At least everyone in Vixen appears to know Malefic is bad news."

Riley flattened out her leather skirt. "Yeah, I freaked
out heading into the underground tunnel, but everything Blunderbuss has said so
far is above board."

Shelby spied Emily, who stared down at the table. "Emily,
what do you think?"

The shy girl glanced up from the wood. "I don't trust strangers.
Vixen looks exciting, except a lot of creepy dudes are around. We should definitely
leave soon." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward.

Several blue-clad soldiers burst in past the bouncer at the entrance.
They wore garb similar to the sentries in the corridor. Their armor glistened in
blue enamel chips, with a velvet shirt draped over, emblazoned with the image of
a golden fox on the front.

They surrounded a table of men playing cards. One of the gamblers
jumped up and they wrestled him to the ground. An officer pulled a black shiny gun
from the man's pants.

"A blaster. The tip checks out, sir," said the sentry
to his superior. "This is against the code of Azimuth."

"Fellas, it's my granddaddy's. I was nervous with the talk
of the Nightlanders invading Meridia," the man said as they cuffed him.

"The law was created for a reason," the officer said.
"And the fine is heavy. Under no circumstances is lethal technological weaponry
allowed on Azimuth. The rules are clear. Take him away."

They dragged him out of the tavern amidst the grumbling crowd.

"He should know better," said Blunderbuss as he angled
over their table. "The code is serious. Weapons of that sort have been abolished
since the war against Hideux."

Stuart turned red. "Um, I have a hand-cannon."

"A different type of weapon under the statutes. Hand-cannons
don't kill, and magic is involved in their creation. People who are born with abilities
like that are a kind of sorcerer, and aren't against the law. They aren't supposed
to use their talents to heist a carriage or anything, but they are okay to utilize
them in self-defense. Ya can't tell a fast runner to slow down in a race. Don't
you guys know this from Pictor Academy? Pretty high-end school." His forehead
scrunched.

"Uh, yes," Max said. "We're a little frayed with
the invasion and our first time in Vixen."

Servers arrived with plates of fried cheese, glazed ribs, steaming
baskets of bread, sautéed spinach, and jugs of apple ale. The aromas were rich.
Frizzled cheese smelled crisp, and the ribs wafted garlic, onion, and some other
strange spices Shelby didn't recognize. A few glazed mushrooms circled the ribs.
The bread was so warm that the butter melted as soon as it was spread.

"Enjoy. This one's on me. Let's just say I'm an investor
in the Scuttlebutt," said Blunderbuss.

The Kin gorged on the platters. The apple ale tickled Shelby's
nose, at once sweet and tart.

Simon chugged water and juice as he gnawed
on some cheese.

"Awesome to chow on real food," Stuart said while riddling
a rib.

Shelby swigged the apple ale. She had sipped beer before and
never cared much for it, but she was quickly growing fond of this drink. The malt
had the perfect sweetness, and it warmed her.

Wiping her mouth, Shelby turned to their benefactor, who sat
a few places down the table. "Thank you, Blunderbuss. Why are you helping us,
may I ask?"

Blunderbuss chugged a pint of brew clean, and placed it on the
table. "You were in my territory. War is breaking out. Whatever is said of
me, dang it if I'll allow a group of youthful refugees to be harmed under my watch.
Ansel, another pitcher of ale!"

Shelby kept a wary eye on the room. Several of the patrons whispered
and cast glances in their direction. A bunch of warriors played at darts, and seemed
to take particular interest in Blunderbuss's section.

The group finished their meal and the platters lay empty. Shelby's
stomach was sated for the moment. She wondered if she might find dried meats to
carry with them, and perhaps some bread that would keep. It was nice having her
belly full and a mug in hand.

She said, "Is it just me being paranoid or are we getting
a lot of stares our way?"

Stuart rubbed his chin. "Maybe it's because we are the youngest
here?"

"Yeah," said Max, "but I think we should get going.
Hit the market, grab a few things, and go to Canopus."

"Agreed. Let's tell Blunderbuss and head on out." Shelby
downed the rest of her ale, stepped out of the booth and strode to the Centurion
leader. "Blunderbuss, thanks again for your hospitality. We really need to
be going, though."

"Milady, you are much safer here than heading to Canopus
at this hour. What's the rush?"

"We have family and friends at Canopus and are anxious to
meet up with them, especially since the village we were visiting has fallen."

"All right, we will stock up on supplies at the market.
Afterward, we'll lead you back to our camp and you can travel to Canopus from there."
Blunderbuss gulped his ale.

"Perfect." She returned to the booth, but uneasiness
quavered through her. She was still edgy about the group of men playing darts, who
continued to chatter among themselves and spy on their area. "Blunderbuss said
it was fine. He's ready to leave. I don't care for the looks we are getting, even
if we're younger than most."

Max frowned, his brow furrowing. "Don't be paranoid, Shel.
Blunderbuss has a big crew with him and seems to be pretty well-liked in Vixen.
We'll head back to his camp and get on the road."

Despite his reassurance, Shelby's skin prickled whenever the
men gazed in their direction. She tried to return their stare with a glower, but
one man with a scar running around his neck and shoulder only laughed.

The beast is in him,
she realized,
horrified.

Once everyone had finished their drinks, they filed through the
crowded tavern and out onto the bustling street. Shelby was glad to leave the men
behind. Peddlers converged on them as they pushed their way to the market stands.

"Let's buy some apples," said Riley as she approached
a cart bursting with them. Red and green looked familiar, but there were also purple,
orange, and blue apples.

"Name your price," the fruiterer said.

Shelby squinted. "Um, three for a coogle?"

"Sold." He packed two reds and an orange.

They ambled down to a table of chud and bought a few pouches'
worth as Blunderbuss haggled over the cost. The stall tender burgeoned from beneath
his tight doublet. His chins wobbled as he spoke.

"Are you kidding me?" shouted Blunderbuss. "Fifty
coogles for ten pouches? I say five coogles and be glad we're not mugging you!"

"Thirty coogles, and that's my final offer," snarled
the salesman.

"Ten coogles and I'll come back and wreck your stall!"

"Who do ye think ye are? Blunderbuss or somethin'?"

Blunderbuss barked a laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't go so far as
to say
that
. Now, fifteen coogles. Final offer. If you refuse, I'll go to
that lovely lady down the street and get just as much for less."

"Fine, fine. Fifteen," he muttered, handing over the
goods.

Shelby glanced over the crowd and recognized one of the men from
the Scuttlebutt—the man with the ragged scar. When he locked eyes with her, he saluted
and grinned, revealing brown teeth.

Shelby snatched Blunderbuss's arm. "That guy over there...
he was staring at our section in the Scuttlebutt and now he's following us."

"Which one? Bane? He's a wily rat, but what would he want
with a bunch of young'uns?"

The table of almonds and walnuts in front of them blasted in
the air. Several men charged forward, and the square turned into a twister of activity.
Shelby spotted Bane sprinting in with others from behind. The stilt walker wobbled
back and forth amidst the rolling nuts before crashing down on a cart of fish and
ice. People shouted, nagged, and wailed, but mostly, they fought.

Shelby drew her rapier, the other Kin following her lead. One
of the pursuers grabbed her arm, and Max brought his long sword down. The ruffian
screamed as blood spurted forth in a crimson spray.

"What in Fornax are you up to, Bane?" Blunderbuss hollered
as he drew his blade.

"Your half-grown gang matches the description a Nightlander
captain gave us. Kin. He offered us a rich bounty and amnesty when they are in power,
if we spot 'em."

Blunderbuss stuttered, "Wha...? K-Kin?"

The sounds of clanging metal rang as Blunderbuss's men engaged
Bane's gang. Bards, proprietors, and dancers shrieked and jumped out of the fray
holding their heads. Salesmen tried to retrieve goods from the ground before they
were soiled or lost. A few of the tougher men drew knives or short swords, and hacked
at anyone who came too close.

"This way," yelled Max, motioning the Kin behind the
huts.

They rushed through the pack and up the
corridor. Shelby's heart slammed against her ribs as Bane's goons gave chase. Max
led the Kin across the square to the other side. Stuart, bringing up the rear, sliced
the posts of the apple cart as he passed, spraying multicolored orbs onto the cobblestones.

"Sorry!" he shouted to the distressed fruiterer.

They raced past the Scuttlebutt, the bouncer eyeing them. Shelby
glanced over her shoulder to see him plow his huge frame in front of the thugs.
They all smacked into each other in a pile, and the bouncer gave a hearty laugh.

The Kin barreled down the path; Shelby had no idea where. She
tried to dodge anyone who got in her way. Riley was just behind her, and Shelby
yanked her aside when she almost hit a cart.

A lady wrapped in a blue cloak stepped onto the street. "Kin,
in here if you wish to escape," she said.

She pointed to the entrance of a store, over which hung a wooden
sign:
Wintress the Channeller.