“I wouldn’t do that, were I you.”
Svet whipped around, ready to bolt away from the person who had spoken at her ear. One hand was upraised to parry the restraining grip of whichever Outrider had been lucky enough to catch her this time. The defiant snarl that had come to her face melted into confusion as she saw no one nearby. Though it was midmorning, with the market in full swing, the square was relatively empty, and she still had the stall she was at to herself.
She dug a finger into one ear and wiggled it about, wincing as her ragged nail scraped her soft inner ear. Shaking her head to clear it, she shrugged and turned back to her quarry. It sat brazenly on a plank of wood so well sanded and varnished it could have come from the king’s own table. It was perfectly round as though molded by the hands of gods themselves, and Svet imagined that perhaps it had been. The shopkeeper had clearly set it out as the crown jewel of her collection. Svet was definitely an appreciator of fine jewelry, even when that jewelry happened now to be a wheel of cheese.
The finger that had so recently been in one ear reached out to light on the smooth golden surface, as it had been about to do when the voice interrupted. The cheeses clustered around the object of her affection were more the sort she was used to seeing in these parts; crudely shaped, crumbling, their colors ranging from the grayish white of a blood loss victim to a sort of yellowish curdled cream. Each cheese was labeled by a small tag nearby. The golden one’s label was largest of all, of course.
Cheddar.
The exotic word was scrawled in careful hand and practically glowing in the ink. Her tongue snaked out to unconsciously lick her badly chapped lips as she restrained herself from touching her prize. Her eyes flicked up to assess the shopkeeper’s level of awareness, and she found the woman reassuringly preoccupied.
If this cheese were mine, she though to herself, I would never ever look away from it. Luckily, it WILL be mine, and I won’t have to.
Carefully, she slid her knapsack off of one shoulder and lowered it, kneeling. She rummaged as quietly as possible in her pack until she found the small parcel wrapped in thick parchment. Her fingers rubbed together in anticipation, warming as they readied to kick up the tiniest spark she could manage.
“I’m telling you right now that you do not want to do this.” Svet tried to go upward and forward at the same moment, rapping her head soundly on the underside of the solid market stall shelf. Trying to scramble and get her legs under her, she succeeded only in kicking out and scooting backward. On hands and knees, she scrabbled away from the underside of the stall and tried for her feet again. The cheesemonger, alerted by the noise of Svet’s movement, turned to eye her. The woman looked more concerned for Svet than by her, which was good.
“You alright?” She asked, fixing to leave her stall and attend to the disheveled woman still staggering backwards into the road as she blinking owlishly. “Lovely, are you-”
“I’m fine,” Svet assured her, holding out the hand that had all its fingers on it to keep the cheesemonger at bay. She gave a shaky smile and even tried a small laugh at her own expense. “Thank you, I’m fine. I’m just…a little…” She glanced around again, licking her lips and clutching her knapsack to herself. “I’m just a little turned around. You have…your cheese is beautiful. I…ahm….I have to go now. Good morrow.” Pulling the hood of her cloak up, she turned and strode away briskly, not looking back. The cheesemonger looked after her for a long moment before shrugging and returning to her wares.
A strand of trees huddled together a mile up the road from the square, guarding the town midden. Most folk avoided the place save when they needed to dump refuse of some sort. It was as good a place as any to go crazy in, Svet supposed as she strode resolutely toward it. Several of the trees were far enough away from the main pile that the noxious smells wouldn’t offend too badly.
With a sigh, she sank down against the trunk of the nearest tree, feeling the bark bite into her back and not caring. She had been so close to having that velvet perfection in her grasp, what had happened? Had the cheesemonger been toying with her and speaking all along? No, the cheesemonger had sounded wispy and dear, a bit like Svet’s gran. The voice at her ear had been more rough and grating, a voice a bard might pull out to imitate a villainous sort of fellow, perhaps. Was there a bard lurking around?
“Why would a bard skulk around a cheese stall?” She asked aloud.
“Why would you?” The voice answered, as perfectly clear and close as ever.
“Alright, where are you? What are you?” Svet got to her feet, hands clenching into fists. “Come out and have a taste then, huh?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that, now. Let’s be civil, can’t we?” The voice still seemed to come from exactly right next to her, though she could see nothing but trees and heaps of trash. Her looking around became increasingly frantic as she began to pick her way through the midden.
“I’m civil to people I can see, ” she growled, wincing as her boot crunched through what felt like the crust of a pie and touched down into a decidedly gelatinous puddle. Picking her foot up, she shook it and saw droplets of…something go flying into the surrounds. She began tapping her thumbs to her forefingers rapidly, feeling the reassurance of the warmth at her fingertips.
“You can see me, you’re just not looking properly is all,” was the smug reply. Svet cast her glance again, seeing nothing but garbage, trees, and a fat raccoon trundling happily through the squalor. She had never had much patience for games, and this wasn’t a particularly entertaining one in any case. Leaning over, she picked up what might have in a former life been a candelabra but was now a twisted horror of blackened metal. She hoisted it aloft and yelled out over the garbage.
“Is this you?? Am I holding you up right now? If it is…” she hurled the thing down with all her might and watched it bounce and clatter. “I hope you broke your neck, you rotten thing!” Looking around, she spied a wooden churning bucket that was missing several slats. “Or is it this? I bet this was you! How d’you like this??” It got thrown as well, earning her several splinters for her pains.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Svet was hoisting another piece of garbage over her head when she came face to face with the raccoon. “Just put it down and we’ll talk, alright?” The creature sat on its considerable haunches, eyes bright as it studied her. With intelligence, she thought haltingly.
“What the f-”
“Are you going to put that thing down?” In answer, she chucked the trash straight into the animal’s midsection and ran. It gave a startled grunt and rolled down the side of the trash pile, though she had no time to stop and see such things. She’d get her knapsack, go deep into the forest, and continue to go mad in total privacy. Perhaps she’d find a nice cave for herself, one with lots of echoes so that her mutterings could bounce off the walls as she stirred a pot of some sort of leaf soup.
“Argh!” She cried in alarm as she reached for her knapsack. The raccoon was there, crouched and obscuring the pack from view.
“Will you stop, now? This will be much easier if you will just-”
“It was you, wasn’t it? At the market stall.” She pointed a finger accusingly at the raccoon, glaring. Svet, thwarted once again from her aims, had moved on rather easily from being frightened and bewildered by an apparently talking animal. It was good to know that she wasn’t, in fact, crazy and that the voice did belong to something real and tangible. Her grievance could be settled now that she could see her opponent.
“You’re so intelligent,” the thing’s voice was dry.
“Why did you stop me?!”
“Because it would have gone ill for you.”
“You can’t know that! Besides, I was starving. Still am.” She glanced down at her stomach and it growled in agreement.
“Did you really need that cheese, though? The crime for stealing jewels would’ve been less than what you’d get if caught nabbing that cheese. You know it. You know that. Couldn’t the handout bread have done for your hunger?”
“I….didn’t want handout bread. They never make it right, it’s always got hard bits in it. That cheese was all soft and gentle. Besides, what’s it to you?”
“You know what will happen if you’re caught again, don’t you Svet?” The beast ignored the question and continued to look at her as though it were interrogating her. It’s smart, she thought again, it’s smart like a human. They talk about the punishment for those who have wronged society, but it’s just talk, isn’t it?
“They won’t send you to the Academy, you’re far too old now for that. No, it’s straight to the camps. You don’t want that, believe me.” Something about the way he said it made Svet stare. The raccoon nodded as though she had spoken.When he answered, his voice was softer.
“It’s real, alright. I’m living proof.”
“Did you escape?” Svet held a hand to her mouth at the idea.
“And be caught and have to do more time like this? Are you mad, woman? No, I was given a reprieve, of sorts. Find someone in the red in the Outrider records, keep them from breaking the law for a set amount of time, get my old life back.”
“I don’t believe it,” Svet said flatly, pulling her knapsack out from under the raccoon with a tug. “There’s a catch, and I’ll not get snagged on it.” Shouldering the grubby pack, she looked down at the raccoon. “Good morrow,” she said curtly, and began to stride away.
“Whether you believe it or not, whether you agree to it or not, I am your shadow now.” She kept walking, and the raccoon was forced to trundle after her. His voice rang in her ears as she strode, head down, away from the trash pile and the town at large. “I am your shadow.”
Where The Hell Did I Put My... 