A young girl, old enough to begin losing her childish apple-cheeks, met his panicked gaze and froze. Her mouth gaped and her eyes grew wide.
"Your eyes," she breathed. "They're so pretty!" She clapped her hands. Blonde ringlets bounced in the sunlight.
Cita felt his lips twitch. "That's where my demons hide," he whispered, shying away from the child's gaze.
Howling laughter rang through the market, cutting across the babble.
Cita jerked his head around, trying to spot the source. The townspeople continued on their way, unaffected.
"Oh, but you were with the fierce one," she interrupted herself, and mimicked a scowl and swagger.
Cita wondered if she meant Bilal. 'Is that what he looked like as he walked away?'
She rushed on, "Are you lost? I know where he went. I could show you!"
Cita frowned. The girl appeared harmless and earnest. His thoughts shambled as he tried to reason out the best choice. 'Can I trust her? Bilal said to go back to the inn if I got lost. But if that echo was actually translating what those merchants said, I can't let them know where I'm staying.' The world drifted sideways as his head spun, and he shifted to brace himself, planting the glaive's metal-encased butt on the packed-dirt street.
"Are you okay?" The girl bounced in place, pointing at a not-too-distant stall overseen by a thin woman who frowned as she watched them instead of the booth. "There's a shady spot over by Ma's booth. She won't mind if you rest there." The girl moved to grab Cita's elbow. "Come on!"
Cita jolted away from her touch, almost dropping the arrows.
"I'm fine," he said.
*Liar,* the cold shadow whispered. *Not a very good one at that.*
'Just ignore it — everyone else is.'
Over the snickering shadow, Cita said, "But if you know which way my friend went, I wouldn't mind directions."
The girl shook her head, hair flying around her face. "He asked Ma where the mage crafters kept their stalls, and I led him there. They're so hard to find, but I know the way! Then he wanted to come back, 'cause he misplaced something." She laughed, clapping again. "But he misplaced someone, not something! That's you! So I said I could find you quickity-quick, and take you over to the crafters, too." She beamed, enchanting and guileless.
'Or so she seems. Is she going to take me to Bilal or …' Cita shuddered. 'I can't get back to the inn without crossing paths with the merchants again.'
"All right," he conceded. "Lead the way."
The girl clapped her hands yet again and skipped into the crowd. Cita set off after her, limping harder.
*Idiot. You can't even keep up with a kid. What are you going to do if the merchants come after you? Offer them something else in trade?* The shadow clung to Cita's shoulders, dragging him down.
"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! It doesn't matter! I'll figure it out!" He panted and glared at the people around him, brushing against him, invading his space.
A swirl of uneasy silence spread in the wake of his outburst. A pocket opened as the crowd skirted around Cita.
**
Hazel eyes glared at him from beneath lank strands of brown hair. Delicate fingers gripped a sheathed dagger, the knuckles bleeding white. "That's not how this works, Akicita."
"Why not? I'm nothing to you. Just leave me alone. I can figure it out myself."
"Nothing?" The eyes narrowed and the chin popped up. "You dare say that, after what Uncle Tom did?"
They both flinched at the name.
A lump formed in his throat and his eyes burned. "No, but …" His breath escaped in a sob, and his knees crashed into the filth-crusted cobbles.
**
Cyan flames devoured the memory, leaving Cita to hobble after the girl with blood throbbing against his skull.
The girl slowed as she noticed Cita wasn't keeping up and came back to walk beside him. Cita took deep breaths and tried to even his pace. They twisted through the maze of booths and thronging people.
"It's right over here," she said, pointing around a bustling stall. She stepped quicker, moving ahead. "Hey," she called out. "I found him!"
Cita's heart raced. 'Ambush?'
**It's okay,** a warm voice whispered against his ear. **I've got your back.**
Cita twitched, eyes going wide, but didn't turn from the danger in front.
*You've got his back, huh?* Chill fingers crawled up Cita's front. *That didn't work so well last time, did it?*
The warmth fled, leaving Cita wrapped in cold shadow despite the bright sun overhead.
Cita's breath raced, and he fought the urge to scream again. His legs trembled. 'Forget this. It's not worth it!'
This time the laughter was cruel and mocking. *Just like that, you'd give up? Pathetic.*
A one-winged figure came out past the stall before Cita could drop his encumbrances. Cita sighed. His tight shoulders drooped in the punishing sunlight.
"You should not stray so far," Bilal chastised. "There are those who would take advantage —" He stopped dead. "What is that." His tone turned what should have been a question into a statement.
*Saved again,* the shadow whispered. *But he won't stick around. Not once he sees your reality. Unless he wants a piece, too ...* It trailed off suggestively.
"This," Cita retorted as his vision washed bright red again, "is your glaive thingy. I'm surrendering it to you, as promised." He thrust the polearm into Bilal's hands. "These are my worthless arrows." Cita waived the arrows and ignored the pale flames consuming them.
"I … do not know what to say." Bilal looked at the weapon reverently. He moved to unwrap it.
Cita held up a hand. "They said the lord's rules are it has to stay wrapped in the marketplace, or the guards will take it."
Bilal nodded and cradled the glaive to his chest. He extended his hand and, when Cita went to shake it, yanked Cita into a hug.
Cita froze before returning the embrace gingerly, holding the arrows well clear of Bilal's back.
It's okay. It's all okay. No need to toast him. Cita's brow creased. What? I can't toast anything. His head spun as images flashed.
**
A long, narrow building with dirty windows set high in the walls, a grinning dark-haired boy with a bow, and flames consuming a bottle of blue sport's drink.
**
"Thank you." Bilal's hoarse voice distracted Cita, and the fleeting images were gone. Bilal cleared his throat. "Come, there is a mage crafter who may be of some assistance with your arrows." He looked at the wooden arrows Cita held. "Your other arrows, anyway." Bilal turned to lead the way.
Cita stared at Bilal's scarred back, swaying in time with the world around him.
*You can't do it. Weak, like always. You can barely stand.*
Cita's knees shook, reinforcing the spiteful words.
The shadow closed around Cita, and the voice continued, *You'll have to tell him. Then he'll know the truth about you.*
"Could we save that for another day? I'm … kinda done with the market." He tried not to let his increasing dizziness show as Bilal's golden eyes assessed him. "And I'm not too sure if it's a good idea to walk back past that weapon stall with your glaive."
Bilal glared at the ground.
Cita flinched.
"You are right. My people." He took a deep breath and tried again. "They are stiff-necked and take badly to things that upset their worldview. I would ask what you said to convince them to let you have a sacred glaive, but …." Bilal shook his head. "No. I know what you did. The fox pelt. In material terms, it is worth several glaives. Their greed would have overcome any scruples if you offered that. Nevermind. We can find another path back to the inn. Before that, we need to find an herbalist's stand. I must restock my medicines."
Cita sucked in a shaky breath. 'See — he's not mad at me.'
*Not yet,* the shadow promised.
Bilal frowned, watching Cita's expression.
Cita ducked his head, wishing for a familiar drape of cloth to hide beneath. The red haze faded until he could see clearly in the afternoon sun. Cita frowned at his unburned arrows. 'Did Bilal see the flames? Can I ask him without sounding crazy?'
The girl, who had watched their interaction as if it were a street play, chirped, "I know where the healer is! I can show you the way!" She bounced in place.
Bilal smiled at her. "Your mother will be expecting you back already. You have been gone much longer than a trip to the mage crafters."
"Oh, Ma never minds when I'm gone." The girl skipped in place. "Come on! It's this way!" She dashed back into the crowded market.
When Cita turned to follow, his ankle gave way like unfired clay. He caught himself on his other leg and made a face.
"Are you all right?" Bilal asked, reaching out a hand.
Cita recoiled and shook his head. "It's fine. I put too much weight on it."
Bilal arched one dark brow as he watched Cita.
"Look — she's waiting for us," Cita said, pointing at the girl who had returned, hopping from foot to foot impatiently.
Bilal shook his head.
*Such subtle deflection. Did I teach you nothing?*
Cita hurried toward the girl, shoulders hunched up to his ears.
Bilal kept pace as they wound between stalls.
The path emptied slowly as the sun dipped behind the peaked roofs.
Few were in sight as they approached a small stall with tidy bottles and packets of medicines. A graceful woman clothed in a modest, bleached linen gown stood beside the goods. The dress draped oddly compared to the locals; an image of stone tombs engraved with figures in similar clothes and ornate headdresses sprang into Cita's mind.
"She is a Healer of Staryu," Bilal said, lips compressed in a thin line. "Such an odd place to find one of the Silver Tear Clan. But where is her familiar?"
'Healer of Staryu? Familiar?' Cita brushed clammy sweat from his forehead and tried to track his surroundings.
"Lost, or rather taken," the woman cut in. "And if you know where I might find another to contract with, I'll pay a handsome fee." She looked in their direction, but her dark eyes did not focus on them. They narrowed as she continued. "You're unbalanced."
"You're blind!" Cita exclaimed and collapsed.