Inkstone
Warbling Marble
The Bellaros sisters had gone to the highlands to collect more herbs for their trade as healers. These hills were half a day's walk from the city center, and the edges of the city proper were visible from this rolling landscape, as well as the distant plains and farmland that lay beyond. The sky was a strong clear blue, some curious bees puttered along in their charmingly graceless way, a scent of honeysuckle drifted through the air; all in all a lovely spring day. The elder Bellaros sister, Astana, was the first to notice the dust kicked up in the distance. They were off of the main roads leading to town so travelers were fewer and less frequent out in this area. A small group of riders was approaching, based on the size and shape of the dust heralding their appearance. She pointed the dust out to her younger sister Petra. "Must be some traders from Callisto, if they're coming from the southeast."
"I thought Callisto cut off small-scale trading after the Ataxians took over? Made it harder for the Dim Markets, no doubt."
"The Empire knows as well as anyone else that that's not how to quash a black market."
Petra shrugged. "It's about control, in the end."
Astana had no answer. The riders were close enough to see that there were three of them, no noticeable banners or anything identifiable became visible as they passed by, but she noted the unusual red and white stripe pattern on one of the horses' coats, a uniquely Ataxian breed. Clearly at least one of these people was important to the Ataxians, if they owned one of these horses. Or, on the other hand, they could be a rather skilled and fearless thief who had no qualms about facing the potential consequences. More likely the former.
A chill ran down her spine. Definitely the former. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the great nation of Ataxus came for them. Their city was well-situated at the heart of several trade routes, by both land and sea. It had grown fat and content on the fruits of this labor. Certainly lazy as well, as evidenced by Astana's hypochondriac noble patients. One particular offender could not let a week go by without some sort of bodily ache or complaint, and paid her well to simply boil teas or apply salves for headaches. It made for easy work, if nothing else.
Suddenly she was very aware of the person riding the striped horse, feeling their presence as if they were standing next to her instead of being several dozen yards away, and increasing this distance. This was not a man to be trifled with. No name came to her, but a clear image of his face: eyes shining with a jovial but dangerous gleam, long dark hair neatly tied back, a confident smirk seemingly etched into his face, the air of a man who is three steps ahead and surprised by nothing.
"Hello? Astana?" Petra gently shook her sister out of her trance.
"Huh?" She hadn't noticed that she was staring straight ahead towards the city, mouth slighly agape and eyes unblinking. She screwed her eyes shut and blinked hard several times to soothe her now dry eyes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." She was fine, now that the riders were once again out of sight. The sensation had passed and she was readjusting to her immediate surroundings. "We should start heading back, the sun is past noon," she said, making a point to ignore Petra's concern to convince herself that nothing was wrong.
"If you're sure."
"I am," Astana insisted. They gathered up the sprigs and flowers into a couple of cloth bags and started down the hill to the road that would lead them home.
"I thought Callisto cut off small-scale trading after the Ataxians took over? Made it harder for the Dim Markets, no doubt."
"The Empire knows as well as anyone else that that's not how to quash a black market."
Petra shrugged. "It's about control, in the end."
Astana had no answer. The riders were close enough to see that there were three of them, no noticeable banners or anything identifiable became visible as they passed by, but she noted the unusual red and white stripe pattern on one of the horses' coats, a uniquely Ataxian breed. Clearly at least one of these people was important to the Ataxians, if they owned one of these horses. Or, on the other hand, they could be a rather skilled and fearless thief who had no qualms about facing the potential consequences. More likely the former.
A chill ran down her spine. Definitely the former. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the great nation of Ataxus came for them. Their city was well-situated at the heart of several trade routes, by both land and sea. It had grown fat and content on the fruits of this labor. Certainly lazy as well, as evidenced by Astana's hypochondriac noble patients. One particular offender could not let a week go by without some sort of bodily ache or complaint, and paid her well to simply boil teas or apply salves for headaches. It made for easy work, if nothing else.
Suddenly she was very aware of the person riding the striped horse, feeling their presence as if they were standing next to her instead of being several dozen yards away, and increasing this distance. This was not a man to be trifled with. No name came to her, but a clear image of his face: eyes shining with a jovial but dangerous gleam, long dark hair neatly tied back, a confident smirk seemingly etched into his face, the air of a man who is three steps ahead and surprised by nothing.
"Hello? Astana?" Petra gently shook her sister out of her trance.
"Huh?" She hadn't noticed that she was staring straight ahead towards the city, mouth slighly agape and eyes unblinking. She screwed her eyes shut and blinked hard several times to soothe her now dry eyes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." She was fine, now that the riders were once again out of sight. The sensation had passed and she was readjusting to her immediate surroundings. "We should start heading back, the sun is past noon," she said, making a point to ignore Petra's concern to convince herself that nothing was wrong.
"If you're sure."
"I am," Astana insisted. They gathered up the sprigs and flowers into a couple of cloth bags and started down the hill to the road that would lead them home.
