Benjamin Ashwood (9 page)

The
streets were teeming with early morning traffic and he saw people running the
same types of errands they would do in Farview this time of day.  There were
women carrying wicker baskets filled with produce, workmen pushing wheeled
carts and proprietors outside the shops calling out their wares.  Most of them
were dressed in the style of Fabrizo, loose trousers and billowing shirts which
must have been more comfortable in the heat and humidity.  There were a few
people on the street who were foreigners like him, but none seemed too out of
place.

He
was tempted to stop in some of the more interesting looking shops along the
street but he was more excited to explore the city itself.  He picked a
direction he thought was the opposite of how they came in and started off.

At
the end of the street he found a stone bridge spanning a broad canal.  He
paused at the top of the bridge and saw that the waterways were just as busy as
the streets.  There were several small boats darting about and a few barges. 
All of the buildings had pilings or docks on the water where the boats could
tie up.  Right by the bridge there was a trio of workmen unloading heavy
looking sacks from one of the barges into a shop that must have been a bakery
judging by the delicious smell.  Though it was almost overpowered from the
scent of saltwater, fish and refuse.

Seabirds
flew overhead, their calls competing with the shouts from the workmen and
underlying it all was the constant lap of water as waves splashed against the
buildings.  Ben was intoxicated by the mix of sights, sounds and scents that
washed over him.

He
spent several long minutes paused on the bridge overlooking the water then kept
on deeper into the city.  The place was a confusing maze of canals, bridges and
streets.  Some were broad enough for three or four wagons to pass abreast and
some were so narrow he had to turn sideways to pass through.  He was lost
within minutes but he thought he remembered the way to the inn from the large
palace the night before, so he wasn’t worried.

He
found there was some sense of organization in that several of the streets
seemed to have their own specialties.  There was one street filled with gem
cutters, several with different types of blown glass, and other streets for
tailors, herbalists, cobblers, furniture makers and so on.  One street that
made him pause was the armorers.

Suits
of chain mail, scale mail, helmets, greaves, maces, axes, spears, knives and
more types of swords than he ever imagined were displayed all along the
street.  Each shop opened up with more goods inside.  Ben slowed his walk and
his eyes greedily lingered over some of the finer looking weaponry, but he knew
there was nothing along here he’d be able to afford.

In
his dreams he often imagined himself heavily armed and armored, confronting a
demon or some mythical beast, but the stunning array of equipment went beyond
his imagination.  The variety of swords alone was beyond counting and there
were other edged weapons he couldn’t figure how one would even use.

He
eventually moved on after receiving some pointed stares from the shopkeepers. 
He wasn’t familiar with the customs in this place and didn’t want to cause
trouble. Though theft couldn’t have been common – at least not on that street.

The
smell was the first thing that let him know he was near the Fish Market.  The
entire city had a distinct scent of salt and fish, but the odor became much
more powerful near the market.  He noticed that the buildings were a little
rougher which made sense because who could stand to live near that.  The paint
was peeling or chipping on many storefronts and the cobble stones weren’t as
even as he’d seen in more prosperous areas.

On
the outskirts of the market, there were several shirtless, intimidating looking
men who at first he took to be thugs.  They were lounging around in small
groups paying little attention to passersby but he caught a few of them eyeing
him as he walked.  He adjusted his belt and felt the reassuring weight of his
sword on one hip and his hunting knife on the other.

It
wasn’t until he saw a pair of them hurrying by with a wheel barrow filled with
fish that he realized they must all be porters for the shopkeepers and fish
buyers.  The fish wouldn’t last long in the heat of the day and it made sense
it had to be moved quickly.  Once he caught on he saw there was a steady stream
of barrows being pushed in from the docks and an equal stream leaving the
market.

The
market itself was bewildering.  He expected to see a variety of fish that were
new to him but there were creatures here he couldn’t even describe.  He stopped
to stare at one stall filled with cases of wiggling masses and heard the keeper
bellow, “urchins, live urchins!  Get em while their fresh.  Just caught this
morning off the Horn.  Live urchins!  Come on lad, you buying or what?  You
keep blocking the traffic and you better be buying.  Fresh live urchins!”

Ben
hurried on.  He wasn’t sure what an urchin was but it certainly didn’t look
like something he wanted to eat.

He’d
been exploring the market about half a bell when he heard a familiar voice and
turned to see Master Cranston haggling with a shopkeeper over a pile of long,
shiny scaled fish.  Cranston’s helper Zin was in tow carting a wheel barrow
half filled with sea creatures.  Ben spent a few heartbeats trying to guess which
ones he’d eaten last night but most of what was in the barrow didn’t resemble
anything he remembered eating – or would want to eat again.

He
shouted out, “Master Cranston!” and the innkeeper turned with a scowl on his
face before he recognized Ben then instantly adopted a beaming smile.

“Yes,
yes, you’re the boy who came with Lady Towaal right?  How are you enjoying our
city?  First time is it?”  He barreled on before Ben could think of a reply, “the
Lady Towaal, did she send you out for something?  Anything I can be of service
with?”

“Uh,
no sir, just out seeing the city.”

“Excellent,
you’ve come to the right place.  Fabrizo has the best Fish Market anywhere on
the Blood Bay.  Best anywhere in the world some say and I don’t know enough to
disagree with them.  Come along with me.”

Cranston
bounced around the Market like he owned the place, Ben and the overworked Zin
pulled along in his wake.  And from the reactions of the shopkeepers, Ben saw
Cranston was one of their best customers.  He seemed most interested in odd
choices, he kept repeating rare, and was obsessed with freshness.  His
thoroughness was assuring to Ben, who figured he’d be dining on many of these
selections later that evening.

The
innkeeper maintained a constant stream of questions and comments, only pausing
to closely inspect a particular fish or quickly turn and do a count of what
he’d already purchased.  He questioned Ben closely on Lady Towaal’s needs,
which Ben wasn’t sure he was qualified to answer, but from the questioning he
realized Towaal must be something of a regular and occasionally passed through
with small groups of young people.  He decided her job with the Sanctuary was
some type of recruiter for new Initiates.

Cranston
also paused at several stalls and picked out samples for Ben to try.  It wasn’t
until then that he remembered he’d skipped breakfast that morning so he
hungrily snapped up what was offered.  Cranston himself frequently spit out the
samples, “these damn fish mongers don’t even know how to cook their own goods. 
Phef!”   He glared at one poor shopkeeper, “this should be a tempura fry, what
is this, beer batter?!”

Ben
thought the samples were pretty good – straightforward and simple, but a
gourmand like Cranston must be used to classier fare.

Before
long, Cranston was done in the market and said he was heading across town for
other supplies.  He sent Zin back to the inn with stern instructions on what to
tell the cook.

“Master
Cranston,” Ben asked, “which way is the Stranger’s Market?”

“Ah,
yes, for a boy like you with a head full of adventure, that is the place to
go.  Watch your purse lad and watch out for the women.  Wouldn’t do, Lady
Towaal catching you talking to the wrong types.” 

Cranston
quickly spouted out directions that somehow made perfect sense.  Three bridges,
left at the little fountain in the plaza, down the spice sellers alley and over
the yellow bridge.  There were no street names in Fabrizo so simple directions
worked best.

The
Stranger’s Market was nothing like the rest of the city.  It was situated on
it’s own island and looked to be the largest one in the group.  Unlike the
other islands, this one had no permanent structures.  Instead, it was packed
from bridge to bridge with a confusing mix of temporary structures.  There were
narrow walkways weaving in between tightly packed canvass stalls, a hodge podge
of tents grouped together in uneven clumps, open spaces covered in carpets and
goods, massive tents nearly as large as the commons in Farview and shops set up
in the backs of handcarts.

A
wave of odd sounds washed up from the market.  Strange music offset different
accents and languages but it held the familiar cadence of sellers in the rest
of Fabrizo.  He thought he could hear the bleat of some type of exotic animals
mixed in the din of commerce.

The
goods for sale were just as disorganized and even more varied than the
temporary structures.  There were fabrics made of materials he had never seen
before, oils and potions promising cures to any ailment, beads, glassware, jars
stuffed full of exotic items that were frequently difficult to identify,
strange fruits and other food items, clothing, spices, odd mechanical devices,
boxes, bags, jewelry and he found he’d been correct, there were animals. 

He
stumbled across a tent stuffed full of wire cages with small furry creatures in
them.  He was staring, trying to identify what the creatures were when the
one-eyed proprietor slid up next to him.  “Monkeys, you like?  Do your bidding
for you.  You never have to work again.  5 silver for untrained, 2 gold for
fully trained.”

“Uh,
no thank you.”

Ben
quickly moved on as the man shouted after him, “impress your friends, impress
your lady.  You have a lady, right?”

He
was in such a hurry he stumbled into a table stacked with murky glass jars and
nearly sent the entire stack crashing down but managed to get out a hand to
steady them before they fell.  He recoiled in horror though when he saw what
appeared to be human eyes staring back at him from within the cloudy brown
liquid.  This merchant made no sales pitch, just stared at him from deep within
his cowled, undyed robes.  Ben prayed it was his imagination that the eyes
followed him as he scampered deeper into the Market.

A
small rack of wire and glass contraptions caught his eye and the plump
colorfully clothed merchant beamed at him as he approached.  The devices were a
mirrored piece of glass intricately supported above a small metal box by a nest
of thin wires.  She eyed his sword and purred, “an adventurer yes?  You have
come to the right place.  My farseeing devices are a must for any Hunter,
sailor or soldier.  Focus your will and you can see leagues in any direction.”

“Really?”
asked Ben.  He drew closer and leaned down to look into one of the mirrors.

“Now
now,” the woman shooed him back, “I only allow testing by serious buyers.  Are
you serious?” she asked.

“I… 
It sounds interesting but I’m not sure I have the money for something like
this.  How does it work?”

“Focus
and Will, how do you think it would work?”  Her tone had quickly changed. 
“Move along now.  I only have time for serious customers.”

Ben
moved on and soon found himself in a relatively open space lined with stalls of
food sellers and wine merchants.  He paused to soak in the strange scents of
the cooking food and made a slow circle.  He wasn’t familiar with many of the
items for sale but he at least understood food.  He shuddered at the thought of
the jars of eyes and decided to take a short break.

A
fat, jolly looking man called out to him from behind a grill covered in long
skewers of meats and vegetables, “ho there boy, you look like you could use
something to eat!”

Ben
smiled in return and stepped up to see what the man was selling.  The skewers
appeared to be similar to the ones sold by other street vendors at nearly every
major intersection throughout the rest of Fabrizo.  Ben commented on it and the
man replied, “ha!  Smart boy.  Everyone comes to the Stranger’s Market for
something exotic but what is exotic to a man from Ooswam?  Not ostrich pies my
friend.  Fabrizo’s finest skewers are!  Nice for you too.  The foreign stuff is
no good around here.  Don’t see a lot of live ostriches in Fabrizo, do you?”

Ben
was curious about some of the things he’d seen, but the man was right.  Where
did they get the ostrich meat around here?

He
passed the man a few tin bits and got a paper wrapped skewer in exchange.  He
sat down on a bench in front of the stall and took a bite of the vegetables and
greasy meat on the skewer.  The crowd in the market was just as interesting and
diverse as the wares for sale.

Even
from across the bridge he had been able to hear a deluge of strange sounds. 
Unknown languages, music, the water and sea bird sounds of Fabrizo plus the
clatter of commerce all contributed to an aural equivalent of the dinner he had
the night before.  Once on the island, the people seemed to be from a hundred
different races and cultures, each with their own unique style of dress.  There
were shaven headed olive skinned people in long flowing robes that reminded him
of Saala, dark heavily scarred men wearing only baggy trousers, pale raven
haired men and women who wore exclusively black leather, a lot of men who must
be sailors, women in dresses finer than anything he had seen in Farview and
some women wearing hardly any clothes at all.