Dark Legion by Paul Kleynhans

beautiful. Even through her narrowed eyelids, I could see that her eyes were as blue as the sky. Well, not the gray blanket of a sky that sat over Sagemont; they were more like the impossible blue of the pools in the Great Oasis in Ubrain. I could swim in those eyes. I realized I was staring, so I smiled and I tried my best to look nonchalant, but I felt my face flushing, as red as a smacked arse, no doubt. “Only one I could find?”
    â€œI’m surprised you found any at all, but the question is, why do you need that in the first place?”
    I stood up and brushed the dirt from my knee. “Sleeping tonic. It’s for a sleeping tonic.”
    â€œOh, really?” she asked, hands on her hips. “When… there… are…”—with each word she tossed a different herb from her belt at me—“plenty of other plants, right in front of you that would do the job, and not involve climbing that monster of a tree?” She raised her eyebrows at me, bent to pick two mushrooms at her feet, and then tossed them at my face as well.
    â€œThis is the one I know how to use,” I said, frowning at the girl. It was a lie, I knew of all the plants and the mushrooms too.
    â€œAnd it just so happens to be one of the strongest sedatives? And completely tasteless and odorless?”
    â€œHow would you know? I thought you were a failed mage?” I muttered. I had barely spoken those words when a small fist connected with my eye.
    â€œI was an herbalist first,” she shouted at me. “I sell herbs. But none of that vile shit you have.” She turned and stormed off.
    â€œLadies don’t punch!” I yelled, rubbing at my eye.
    â€œYour mother lies with dogs!” she yelled back, now some distance away.
    â€œLadies definitely don’t say that,” I said to myself, still rubbing my eye. I placed the dragon’s root in my satchel, then looked at the plants she’d tossed at my feet. “Might as well take these too. Thanks, Neysa.”
    Â 
    When I returned to town, I made for the market to pick up additional supplies. On the edge of the market sat three wagons. A large white-hooded figure leaned against a wheel with a short whip in hand. The slaver’s wagons were nothing more than cages on wheels, filled to the brim with Ubraian slaves. My people had suffered with me those years I spent in the dungeon. A part of me felt guilty for having escaped their fate, when their chances of living a normal life again were so slim. The cages were filled entirely with men, and I thought back to the construction project in the forest. The hooded man saw me staring, so I quickly ducked away into the market.
    I made my way through the mess of stalls, which showed no semblance of organization. A stall offering barber services and one selling meat faced each other. I next walked past a food stall selling dried fish, extending off another offering shoe repair. These two were at least partially related, with some of the dried fish resembling the leather strips of the stall next door. As I walked on, the smell of incense assaulted my nose, and I turned to look into a purple tent with a beaded entrance. Through the beads I saw an older woman tossing corn to a rooster. The sign above the entrance read, “Alectryomancer,” though I had no idea if that was her name, or whatever she did to chickens. Groups of children were playing wherever space allowed. One boy was on his own, creating his own entertainment. I watched as he hid on the inside of a tent, his face to the ground. As he saw a lady walk past, he stuck his foot out, tripping her, then ran away.
    It took a long time to find the items I needed within the maze of canvas. I bought a small cleaver, a burner fueled by lamp oil, and some bottles of various sizes. I also bought thin fishing line and some small weights, and I stopped by a tailor’s and arranged for him to come by the inn when he was next available.