The Continent (The Continent #1)(47)

She nods her head. “Are you the girl from the Nations Beyond the Sea? Is it true? You’re from the Nations Beyond?”

“Oh…yes,” I say, surprised.

“That golden hair! Like strings of sunshine.”

I give her a smile. “My name is Vaela. What can I call you?”

She laughs as though I’ve told an incredible joke. “I’m Ava. You want to sell—” here, she makes a sharp whistling sound at the start of the word sell “—that hair of yours, little Nation girl? Could give you three oka for locks like that—make a nice wig, I would.”

My fingers flutter automatically to my hair, and I grasp a handful. “Oh—thank you, no,” I say. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Her lips purse into a pout. “Four oka. Five—that’s the most I can offer.”

“Thank you, but no.”

She screws up her face, but nods. “Offer stands. Come back soon! I’ve got apples, too, fat as you please.”

“I will,” I say. “It was very nice to meet you.”

I move on to the next stall: a wagon filled end to end with daggers of all kinds, each tied firmly to the long black board on which they are displayed.

The proprietor fixes me with cold eyes. “I suspect you’ll want to be moving along. Nothing for you here, senukka.”

A young woman—strikingly pretty with the straightest, loveliest black hair I’ve ever seen—turns from the cart beside us, both eyebrows raised.

“A filthy word for a filthy man,” she says. “Why am I not surprised?”

He grins, flashing a row of crooked white teeth. “I don’t need your business either, Yuki Sanzo.” He bows deeply, gesturing to the road. “On your way.”

She laughs. “I wouldn’t spare even a tuka for one of these rattling bits of metal.”

He spits. “Might be one of those daggers will find your throat someday.”

“One can only hope,” she says. “At least then I shall know I am in no danger.” She links an arm through mine. “Come with me. I’ll steer you clear of those who behave like Topi.”

“I’ll mark you said that,” the vendor growls, his face dark with anger.

“Do as you please,” the girl says. “It is of no concern to me.”

She pulls me along the lane, away from the wagon, until we reach a crowded little walkway spread out beneath an awning of stretched silk. She turns to me, her eyes flickering over my face. “You hear that word again, outworlder, you stick a knife in the eye of the one who said it.”

“Oh,” I say, “I…don’t have a knife.”

“Get one.”

Her face is heart-shaped, with a delicate pointed chin and a dimple in each cheek, and her hair falls neatly to her chin, shining like a curtain of smooth obsidian. She wears a long, thin sword strapped at an angle across her back, the hilt visible above her right shoulder. Her eyes are dark, like all of the Aven’ei, and steady, like Noro’s. I like her at once.

“I’m Vaela Sun,” I say.

She bows shortly. “Yuki Sanzo. Tanner by trade, sword-bringer in battle.” She frowns. “You’re much smaller than I thought you would be.”

I glance down at myself. Yuki is taller than I by nearly a full foot, her body long and willowy, like a dancer’s. Though our garments are similar, Yuki looks far more becoming in the slender Aven’ei tunic she wears.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

She smiles at this. “Shall I accompany you, Vaela Sun? Even those who won’t insult you outright might be inclined to add an oka or two to any price they offer.”

“So I’ve been told.” I glance down the shaded walkway, noting more than one hard look directed my way from villagers and merchants alike. It would seem everyone knows who I am, and most are displeased to have a stranger amongst them. “I would be grateful for your company.”

“Good. What do you need then? Food? Tools? Weapons? A dagger, certainly.”

“I…perhaps some food, to refresh the pantry.”

Her eyes brighten. “Do you like aniguri? I know a man who brings it sometimes from the sea.”

“Aniguri?”

“Mmm. Sorry. Octopus,” she says, a dreamy smile upon her face. “Seared in oil, drizzled with sangui sauce, tossed in herbs. Every bite is like a taste of the ocean.”

My stomach turns; I have never been one for seafood, and the idea of eating an octopus, with its wriggling tentacles and pointy beak…no. I couldn’t.

“I prefer chicken, or perhaps roast duck,” I say. “And soups, breads, vegetables, wine—that sort of thing.”

“The simple things,” she says, nodding. “You’ll find plenty of that here—but look for the rarer treasures as well. The merchants come in from far along the ayota ko—the trader’s road—all the way to Kojima and beyond. Many Aven’ei are artisans in their leisure time, and we in Hayato can find a wealth of fine goods. Yarn, silks, tapestries, furniture, kettles—our people are industrious in their free hours. The hard-working want for nothing, so long as coin continues to pass from hand to hand.”

We go up and down the rows, a dizzying array of food, staples, and luxuries proffered from the various vendors. When I express interest in a bundle of spiced bread and cheese, Yuki haggles the merchant from two oka to one, a stern expression on her face. Happily, I hand over a silver coin and take the food, now wrapped in brown paper.