“With this ring design and the fact that this is for a male dragon, I would have to suggest a round or slightly oval cut.”
Jahrra shrugged. “I wouldn’t know either way. I’ll leave it up to you to decide. You’re the experts.”
The woman smiled and answered, “Very well, we shall see what we can do. Being that this is such a large stone it will take us longer than the customary time, despite our use of magic. I suggest you come back an hour or so before sundown.”
Jahrra nodded. It was nearly noon, so that would give her and Torrell plenty of time to get some lunch and explore this side of the city. She and Jaax may have been in Lidien for several months but it was a large metropolis and she hadn’t seen all of it yet. Now would be the perfect opportunity. With a smile towards her friend and a waved thanks to the jeweler and his family, they strode through the door to see what new discoveries they could find.
-Chapter Fifteen-
The Fortune Teller’s Secret
After leaving the jewelry store the girls found a tiny shop where tea and pastries were served. Once done with their meal, they decided to investigate the open space they had seen across from the jeweler’s. The park itself was much larger than Jahrra had previously thought. From the street side it wasn’t very wide, but as she and Torrell strolled along the gravel-packed path that wound through the trees and around several small ponds, they realized it carried on for a couple miles or so.
“Should we walk to the end?” Torrell asked.
Jahrra shrugged. “Why not? We have until the end of the day.”
They took their time, admiring the sycamore trees along the way and pausing to climb a few just for the fun of it, so it took them nearly two hours to reach the other side of the sprawling park. As they stepped from the manicured lawn onto time-worn cobblestones, Jahrra stopped and sucked in her breath.
“What?” Torrell asked shortly.
“Where are we?”
Before them the nearly black cobblestones formed a wide street that traveled through a neighborhood that looked to be forever trapped in the Sobledthe season. Dark stone buildings rose on either side of the road, their angles crooked and precarious like old herb witches bent over with arthritis. Most of the small shops, or so Jahrra assumed they were, had a second storey which featured window boxes, empty now in the early winter gloom. White smoke, sometimes tinged with color, rose from warped chimneys and the spicy smell of wintertime food permeated the air.
“I know this place. We used to come here when I was little,” Torrell mused. “It’s the Witching District. If you need a love spell or an herbal remedy, you come here.”
Jahrra shot her friend a disbelieving look. “Where I grew up witches were something to be feared, not something you go visiting as a child.”
Torrell grinned and shoved Jahrra forward. “Old superstitions spread by ignorant fools.”
Jahrra put a foot down to catch her forward momentum and rubbed the spot on her arm where her friend had pushed.
Returning Torrell’s grin, Jahrra responded, “Of course I know that now, but when I was younger . . . let’s just say it was common knowledge that a witch lived in the forest near my home.”
Ignorant fools indeed, Jahrra thought to herself, recalling that old memory as they began their trek down the uneven, dark cobblestones. Of course if it hadn’t been for Eydeth’s dare, she may never have met Denaeh. Jahrra stopped for a moment, forcing her friend to turn and give her a strange look. What would have happened then, if she had never stumbled upon the Mystic in the Belloughs those many years ago? And how odd that she had just been thinking about her old friend that very morning when perusing through her journal, to be reminded again now.
“Not afraid are you?” Torrell asked, her arms crossed and her eyebrow arched.
Jahrra shook her head. “Don’t be absurd. When I was twelve, I went looking for that witch.”
Torrell snorted. “And did you find her?”
Jahrra cocked her head to the side. “Yes.”
Jahrra couldn’t help laughing at the look on her friend’s face as she brushed past her.
The conversation soon ceased as the old buildings drew closer. They looked very similar to those near the jeweler’s, but an aura of wonder seemed to settle around these. The wooden signs hanging above the doors named each shop with ornate letters or bright symbols depicting their wares. After passing Herbs For All Seasons, Charms Galore and The Rose of Ethoes, Jahrra stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Torrell to walk right into her.
“Ow!” Torrell hissed in annoyance, her dark brown eyes looking dangerous.
Jahrra felt her face pale and her brain go blank. All she had room for in her mind was what she saw above the door of the shop just in front of them.
Torrell, unable to get her friend’s attention, followed Jahrra’s eyes.
“A fortune teller’s shop? Really? Jahrra, I thought you above such silly nonsense.”
It wasn’t the sign that had caught Jahrra’s attention, not really. Fortune tellers were all too common and most of them were frauds. It was the bird perched on the sign that had forced her into a state of shock. Slightly bigger than a raven with short legs and a short tail, a ring of cream tipped feathers around its neck. A korehv. Could it possibly be Milihn? No, Jahrra told herself, Milihn is a darker blue than this bird.
“We have to go in,” Jahrra finally said.
“Alright,” Torrell gave in, “if you insist. But I never thought you to be the type to want your fortune read.”
“No, I don’t care so much about that,” Jahrra said as she pushed against the red wooden door. “I just need to check on something.”
Torrell glanced at her friend as if she suspected her of a spontaneous personality change, but a low grumble from the korehv above caused her to jump and hurry after Jahrra into the dark room in front of them.
Immediately, they were overwhelmed by a multitude of smells: the sweet smoky scent of incense, the bite of garlic, the reassuring smell of wood smoke, the nose-itching mustiness of old dust. The few windows that faced the street were slightly dirty and mostly covered with gauzy drapes. A small cauldron hung over the fire on the far wall, and several cushions and old, battered stuffed chairs were scattered about the carpet-laden floor.
Waving her hand in front of her face, Torrell coughed and said, “You know, I’m not too picky about neatness, Jahrra, but this place just might change my mind.”
The room did seem a little cluttered but Jahrra’s heart clenched. It reminded her so much of Denaeh’s cave in the Belloughs of the Black Swamp that for a blessed second she thought she was actually there.
A sharp whining sound made both girls jump. Jahrra glanced down and at their feet stood a huge cat, its longish hair a multitude of browns and oranges. No wonder they hadn’t seen it; the animal’s fur had blended in with the rugs it stood upon. The cat meowed again, a pathetic sounding complaint that matched the doleful look in its large amber eyes.
“Netty merely seeks a scratch under the chin from you fine girls.”
Jahrra was tired of being surprised into jumping, and she wasn’t sure but she thought it might’ve been the first time she had ever heard Torrell cry out in surprise.
“We don’t get many visitors here.”
The casual voice sounded like it belonged to an old woman, a woman who stood hidden in the shadows of the room. As she spoke, however, she moved into the dim light coming in through the dusty windows. As she moved closer, close enough that her face was visible, Jahrra felt her stomach drop. She looked young, despite the age she had heard in her voice just moments ago. She wore a dress made from old, worn fabric and she moved with practiced grace. It was her hair, however, that had forced Jahrra once more into a state of numbness. An unnatural saffron yellow and falling past her shoulders in rough waves.