December, 1764
"Thae's whit ah sae tae 'em," The fur-clad man grumbled, flicking the reins of his horses, who huffed and sped up their pace. "If ye hae be in the snaws ah hae gaun through, this be nothin', but nay, the gowks still wan' tae buy fer less. Thae ken stayin' oot tae wai' fer fine laddies like me has it gud tae pull that, eh, lass?"
"Muir, you know merchants," Allie responded with a wry smile and a shrug with her good shoulder. "The only thing sharper than a sword edge is a merchant's tongue. How far until we're there?"
The man, all swaddled in fur, smiled and rested the reins in his lap as the horses made a comfortable pace. His head swiveled to look at her, snow already melting on his fiery red beard. "Few hours tae Sinecliff, lass. When we go doun, ah'll ge a houf an' ye can footer aboot aw ye want, ye ken?"
"Assuming I'll even be able to get anywhere. It's almost the peak of the solstice, and the streets are going to be packed."
"Aye, ah ken." Muir glanced at his horses and flicked the reins again. "Ah'm fer the dram ah'd be wantin' efter this. Snaw be dreich an' ah cannae feel me hands."
"Really?" Allie said, deadpan. "Dressed as you are, I think you're just trying to make me feel better. It's a pretty cold spell today." She shivered as if to emphasise that point.
Muir snorted. "Och, lass, ah be a proud laddie of Hexxen, nay a Saderian!"
"I'd never have guessed. You'd make a great Saderian. Sure you weren't adopted?" Allie laughed at Muir's spluttering before changing the subject. "There's nothing like the snow to make me hungry. Wish I had a fine lobster dish before me right now."
"Ach, Allie, ye an' yer Island vittles!" Muir shook his head, the weathered face splitting in a grin. "Ye shoud be 'ome, so ye ken stae werm, an' hae a' the lobster an' lamb ye want!"
Allie chuckled briefly. "Well, lamb's an acquired taste for me. What's your poison, though? Anything you're itching to eat while we're talking about food?"
A gleam arose in Muir's eyes, a man bent on mischief. "Ye ken cook-a-leekie? O' a bite o' smoked hough with sliced neeps an' tatties, doun wi' mither's fresh dundee cake out o' the oven, drench'd with spiced dram? An' doun with a tall mug o' guid wee heavy tae keep it a' doun, o' cearse." The man licked his lips. "Aye, 'tis a braw meal tae fill the flesh in a laddie's bouns. Or lassie's," he added, glancing at the smaller woman.
Allie wrinkled her nose. "You know that I had absolutely no idea what you are talking about?"
"Ach, dinnae fash tryin', ye glaikit. An' we wae makin' guid blether!" With a bellow of laughter, the large man flicked the reins as the horses lagged. "Och, roll alon' 'ere. Ha!"
In Sinecliff, the streets were already brimming with people in various stages of anticipation for the Skybow's appearance. Muir demonstrated his aptitude by expertly weaving his wagon around and past the crowds, and made a face at a number of merchants already claiming to have obtained rocks from the impact sites of fallen meteors, never mind that the phenomenon was yet to happen.
"Och," Muir scoffed in disgust as the wagon finally extricated loose from the market. "Gowks. Ah ken if ye boot all o' the wee ones, ye'd hae 'nough tae make five o' them sky rocks." Allie grinned and nodded, and Muir's complaining about merchants petered off as they continued on, stopping only to request directions from a citizen.
"If you take the turn over there, there's an inn down the road to your right," the man said after a pause long enough for him to decipher Muir's thick accent. "Unfortunately, with the Skybow about to come in, you'll have a hard time looking for lodging for you, let alone your animals." The man shot a pointed glance at the wagon.
"Och, ah donnae care," Muir said with a smile and placed a bill in the man's hand. "Thankee fer yer guid time, thoch."
"You're welcome," the man smiled back as he pocketed the bill. "Don't forget to get a good view of the sky when the Bow comes, and good luck with your trip."
"Ah nae miss it fer the waeld, an' luck tae ye too."
As the wagon approached the indicated inn, though, it became clear that the direction giver was right. Even from a distance away and despite the wind whistling in their ears, the amount of bustling activity in the building could be easily heard, and a few men were even perched outside, warming their hands on steaming mugs and bearing expressions ranging between relieved and disgruntled, with the latter predominating.
Muir's wagon circled around the building to the inn's stables, and a gaggle of haggard-looking stableboys seemed to crawl out of the woodwork to tend to the horses. Allie slipped down the vehicle and reached into her pocket to place a few slightly damp bills in the man's hand. "Thanks for the ride, Muir. Wouldn't have been a pleasant time to go the whole way on foot."
Muir chuckled and clasped his massive gloved hand over Allie's, pushing the bills back to her chest. "Nay, Allie, ah thank ye. Ye gae an old trader an' his hearses company. Nay a price be placed fer that."
Allie shrugged, relenting, and put the bills back when the larger man let go of her hand. "You're welcome for the company. And one of these days, I'll figure out what you're saying."
"Alwae ready fer yer blether!" Muir grinned, but the grin dropped as a thought came to him. "Och, hae ye a place tae stay fer a few? All the inns be full and ye be a wee lass."
"Me?" The woman quirked her lip in a half-smile. "I figure I can find a place to tuck in when I need to. Worse comes to worst, I'll find a corner away from the wind. Sinecliff's a big place."
"Ach, ye milk-chest besom!" Muir sputtered, eyes all but bulging in indignation. "Ah nae be a proper lad if ah lae ye oot in the snaw! Ah'll tell the laddies tae lae ye sleep in the stables."
Allie's smile widened. "If you say so."
As Allie stepped out of the inn some days later, the cold struck her face used to the warmth of a roaring fire and many bodies. Though the impact was more a sharp pinch than the slap of colder climates, she tightened the hood around her face nonetheless and stepped into the streets. All around her, pressing against her, was a river of people sweeping down and up as far as her eye can perceive, parting around the rocks of wagons, kiosks, or other people exhibiting poor taste in places to observe the Skybow beginning to stretch overhead. All in all, it was a display intimidating to the untrained eye, but Allie, used to busy city life, observed the ebb and flow of the crowds as she strode along, taking advantages in the occasional gaps to weave between and around all manner of obstructions with nary a disturbance.
Eventually, Allie found herself at an intersection, looking upon the door of a tailor's shop used to sleepier times, now bustling with customers seeking to protect themselves from the Ginean winter. Snippets of loud voices and the constant sound of machinery emitted from the door, indicating as to the business of the place, and the woman lingered for a moment outside, checking her bills as she wandered to the side to avoid being bumped by the crowds. Finally, she pocketed the bills and squared her shoulders before opening the door and quickly slipping inside.
The noises, already loud enough without, coalesced and struck Allie's senses like a nearby gunshot as she stepped within, forcing her to take a moment to reorient herself at the business of the place. It was due to her inattention on top of the cacophony that she did not perceive the approaching footsteps.
"May I help you?" A weary and aged voice said to Allie's right, and she turned to look upon the face of a middle-aged woman and the shop owner, hair now mostly greyish-white, wrinkles filling in and accentuating plain but dignified features. The seeming frailness of the older woman was belied by the lack of tremor in the calloused hands and brown eyes nested in the aging flesh, their depths bright and alert despite the environment and the physical demands of what was undoubtedly crunch time.
As their gazes locked, the woman's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak further, but Allie cut her off. "I'd like to have a sweater made," the younger woman said, keeping her tone plain and businesslike. "Something warm and not too itchy for the winter. It's not for me, though."
There was a moment of hesitation as the owner weighed her options, those brown eyes never leaving Allie's. "Who is it for, then?" Was the slowly enunciated request.
"A man." Allie shrugged with her left shoulder, the motion eliciting raised eyebrows from the other person. "I don't know his exact measurements, but I can give a good guess." She rattled them off. "That's my estimate. It's a little on the loose side."
The owner gave a slow and thoughtful nod. "I believe I can work with that...dear." Another long moment of hesitation, those questioning eyes upon her. "Do you...do you wish to come with me and see the process?"
The look of hope in the older woman's eyes was terrible, but Allie kept her voice emotionless. "No. I trust you'll do it well."
Some time later, plenty of bills lighter, and with the sweater packaged under one arm, Allie hustled through the streets, murmuring excuses as she slipped around the crowds as if she were a thief trying to get away. Maybe in some respects she was, she mused.
Before turning the corner she chanced a look behind her, at the door of the tailor's. It was open from a departing customer, open briefly enough to let her catch a glimpse of the shop owner, looking so much older now, her posture hunched, head in her hands as if she were weeping, her body supported by the darkly-toned arms of a man who seemed to be embracing her. The man held her that way for a while, then leaned in to murmur something in her ear just as the door finally closed, cutting them off from view.
Allie turned away, rounded the corner, and disappeared into the crowd.
