"She could've just told me that at the beginning. What a waste of time!" Abrial muttered to herself irritatedly as she emerged from the darkness into daylight again. As she looked up, she frowned.
Wait a minute…Where did the sign go?
The fortune teller's wooden sign, which had been swinging squeakily outside when she entered, was nowhere to be seen.
Abrial whirled around, flabbergasted.
Where the entrance to the underground room had been, there was now only a wooden wall. It was as if the fortune teller…
Had just never been here at all.
Abrial stared, utterly perplexed for a whole minute. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, turned in a circle and kicked the wall to check if it was fake or something.
Nope. It kind of hurt. Not fake.
Abrial rubbed her chin in thought, contemplating this strange turn of events. Was this some kind of brand of advanced magic, making rooms and signs disappear like they'd never even been there? It must be — she couldn't have just imagined all that, right?
Yeah, that had to be it. Right? And if that was true…did it mean that fortune-telling old woman was…kind of legit? As in, legit enough that Abrial should listen to her?
The real question is, should I listen to that old woman and meet Finley under the biggest star in the north? Or should…I keep running back towards the house and Finley?
The woman's yellowed teeth, gleeful, slightly crazed grin, and yellowed toenails flashed across her mind. Her mouth curled sourly.
"How can I know for sure what a fortune teller tells me is true? Especially one who was as wacky as her? I need to make sure Finley's safe, and I can't do that if I just follow some star in the opposite direction of the house. How about this: if she's not at the house, I can head to that camp place next. But first thing's first, I need to get to Finley."
With her eyes determinedly glinting dark as obsidian, Abrial plunged back into the market crowd, heading for the exit.
______
The next village over was about a day's running away. It could be seen from the outskirts of Gananjag on the top of a hill a good ways away in the direction of the house.
Abrial spent the day alternating between sprinting and briskly jogging until after a while her limbs finally began to shake and she could hardly lift her legs. Then, at last, she flopped down reluctantly into the grass and lay staring up at the sky, heaving breaths as loud and raw as storm gusts.
The sky was very beautiful today.
It was the same bright, azure blue as she had often seen laying in the bushes of the garden or by the lotus pond, staring up at the clouds. But from the grass on a hillside far, far away from that prison of a house, it felt different, somehow.
Wider.
Vaster.
More endless.
A soothed smile rested on Abrial's face as she watched white wisps of cloud float by in a sea of blue. The breeze rustled the tall grass around her gently, tickling her face, but she didn't move to push it away. The sun was mellow and warm. Her breath calmed, slowly quieting into an easy rhythm.
"I wonder if Finley's looking at the sky right now," she mumbled. "I hope she's looking at the sky. I hope she's all right."
When she woke up, the sun was high in the sky again. She swore and sat up, wiping drool from her face irritably. Launching to her feet, she gathered up her sack and began muttering furiously to herself.
"That's what I get for not sleeping last night. My body really does always give out on me if I haven't slept for a day. Why can't I just be tougher and not sleep for three?!"
She swigged an enormous gulp of water from a jug she'd swiped at the market and filled at the river beside Gananjag. The water was sweet. She chugged half of it, then stored it away and stuffed a roll of bread into her mouth. After a few chews, she swallowed it as though it were water, too.
Then she set off down the hill at a brisk run, headed for the next village up ahead.
______
The next village was similar to the last. Many clustered small houses, a river nearby, and the merry sounds of a market within. When Abrial entered, people stared at her here, too, though this time, far more out of suspicion than interest.
"Look at her, wearing stark black. Is she a thief?"
"She looks fierce. A little threatening, too, doesn't she?"
"Watch out for her. I've heard there are more bandits out and about lately."
Their words went right over Abrial's head. She was headed, this time again, straight for the market. She hadn't seen many more villages in the direction that would take her back to the house, so she wanted to steal as much food as possible for the journey. This would be her last stop, if she could help it. Then it'd be sprinting, sleeping, and sprinting the rest of the way.
When she reached the market, there was some sort of commotion going on.
A big crowd had formed, blocking her view of what was going on. Several stands near the crowd had been overturned somewhat violently: one was broken in half, beads and bracelets scattered chaotically over the road; another had a cracked awning and was buried in a mound of unraveled embroidered cloth.
Somebody inside the crowd cried out.
Abrial's obsidian eyes sharpened.
It was a cry of intense pain.
She grabbed the nearest person by the elbow — a middle-aged man.
"What's going on?"
He looked at her, miffed, and shook her hand off his elbow. "The guards caught a magician. They're punishing the person now."
"Punishing a magician?"
Something whistled through the air further in the crowd, and cracked against something.
The person screamed in pain.
Abrial's lip curled, her teeth clenching tight. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
A whip.
"Hey! Let me through! Get out of the way!" She forced her way through the dense crowd, elbowing and slipping between people until she had reached the front row. There, her fists curled into hard stones.
There was a young person sprawled in the dirt, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Abrial couldn't tell if they were a boy or a girl; in fact, they seemed both feminine and masculine at once. Their dark blue cloak had been ripped in two, and their black robe was torn and bloodied in many places. There were cuts on their thin collarbone where the robe was torn away, and their face was badly bruised. One of their eyes was swollen shut and purple. Out of the corner of their mouth dribbled a trail of dark, shining blood.
Standing all around the young person were guards.