Chapter 24

Along the way, gentle reader, Aunt Dreya spotted a few more small settlements in the distance that had sprung up since her first visit. Despite this, there were still some wild horses around, one of which she appropriated for her journey. As she travelled, my aunt periodically cleared the road with her magic, but as she approached within about five miles of the market town, she saw the job had already been done. The road was wider and, while not exactly paved, there was a flat bed of stone to make the way easier under foot or hoof.

In a border, between the road and the blue fields, there was a distinctive blanket of green and red flowers growing beneath the violet sky. Aunt Dreya was no expert on flowers, and in any case, she could have no idea what those species were called in this world. However, there was one particular variety that caught her eye. They looked something like the dahlias that grew abundantly in her own grounds, except, remarkably, all the petals were composed of three colours: black, white and red.

‘They would make a wonderful gift for Catriona,’ she thought.

Taking a wider view, there seemed to be a definite pattern to the arrangement of flowers. She didn’t know what the pattern might represent, if anything, but one thing she was sure about, was that it was the work of Chetsuan hands. A promising sign of civilisation.

As Dreya began to share that road with others. She kept herself to herself, keeping her hood pulled over her head and her hands in the pockets of her robes. She steered the horse with a gentle prod of magic until finally she reached Axford.

Crossing over a stone bridge across the river, she passed beneath a stone archway and a sign that read, ‘AXFORD MARKET TOWN: ALL WELCOME’, and welcome was exactly how Aunt Dreya felt.

*****

Dismounting and giving her horse a smack on the rump to send it back into the wilds, she was impressed by what she saw as she began her exploration. Streets were clearly marked out with market stalls arranged neatly in between. The air was filled with the sounds of merchants touting their wares and the ring of steel on steel. There would always be a need for security in a place like this, and if Sara and Jessica were true representatives of their people, they had learned to take care of themselves. Among the many smells were those of the blacksmiths’ forging fires, mingled with freshly cooked food. Passing a bakery, Dreya wondered whether some of their wares might have come from Whealhaven.

The Chetsuan people had come a long way in ten years. They had been given a chance for freedom and they’d grabbed it with both hands.

The dragons, for their part, seemed to be obeying her one rule, to leave them be. There were a few flying overhead, and a gathering place like this would be easy pickings for them, but there was no indication of any such trouble.

In some ways, it wasn’t such a surprise that the Chetsuans were achieving so much. According to what Dreya knew from Sara and Jessica, despite their conditions, they had tried to maintain some form of education, to preserve knowledge as best they could. Obviously, in the past decade, they had been able to put that knowledge to good use. They seemed to have specialised quickly, doing what they could and trading for what they lacked. In many ways, this was an intriguing opportunity for study. Given the time difference with Tempestria, coming back at regular intervals to see their progress would be simple. Especially now that, as a Guardian, she had perhaps all the time in the world – any world.

Maybe she and Cat should have their honeymoon here, instead, she pondered. She had enjoyed showing Cat the sights of Gaggleswick in the early days of their relationship – she still had the photos. She could imagine the delight in Catriona’s eyes as they explored the lands of this world together, seeing it for the first time as a married couple. Yes, Dreya liked that idea very much and resolved to discuss it with Cat when she next saw her. She was sure Mandalee would enjoy visiting this world, too, with Shyleen. Perhaps introducing the Cleric of Nature to the nature of a whole new world would make up for her thoughtless remark, earlier. A pity Sara and Jessica could never see it.

A male Chetsuan snapped her out of her thoughts, waving a plate under her nose. Arranged on that plate were several varieties of cheese.

“Greetings, stranger. Would you care to try?”

“Thank you,” she replied, “but I’m not from around here. I’m…a traveller.” That was true enough. “I’m afraid I don’t have whatever you use for currency around here.”

“A traveller!” he declared, his face a picture of delight. “We get many of those around here these days, friend. Some like to explore this land, now that we are free of the dragons’ wrath. Others, like those you see here, prefer to stay in one place and build a life.” He shrugged. “The world needs both kinds. Tell you what, take one of these as a free sample. All I ask in return is that if you enjoy it, then tell others of the delicious cheeses available at Lex’s in Axford Market.”

“Sounds like a fair exchange to me,” Dreya agreed.

She picked a slice at random and popped it into her mouth. It really was quite delicious. Similar to something she often bought in Gaggleswick, but slightly different at the same time. If she were in any sense local, she could very well see herself adding this to her larder in the Black Tower. Unfortunately, after two years, she’d been forced to tell her guards to throw everything out, since it had surely spoiled by now. She would have some serious shopping to do when she settled back into a routine.

“Strange how taste and smell can take you back home no matter how far you travel,” Dreya remarked absently.

“‘Lex’s Cheeses: a taste of home no matter where you’re from’,” the man paraphrased. “With advertising like that, you can have another slice if you like.”

Dreya shook her head. “No. Our agreement was one slice in exchange for me telling others. So far, the only person I have told is you. It wouldn’t be fair to take more when I haven’t yet fulfilled my end, but perhaps I could buy a portion to take with me on my…travels. Is there somewhere hereabouts that I could exchange something of value for currency?”

“Certainly. You should go to Kindred Currency in the Northwest quarter. They’ll give you a fair deal. Stay away from anyone promoting TrustCorp,” he warned with a frown. “Despite the name, they’re swindlers.”

Dreya thanked him and walked away.

She was a little sorry to hear about this TrustCorp place, but she supposed it was inevitable. The Chetsuans here were evidently building their civilisation on the ideal of freedom. Within such a system, there would always be those who wanted to create something honestly like Lex or those in Scarlett’s village, and those who would seek to take advantage. Dreya couldn’t regulate every little aspect of their lives here and wouldn’t want to. She had conquered this world for her own ends, but she had no interest in ruling it. As long as dragons didn’t harm Chetsuans, both species were free to make of their world what they would. Paradise or hell was their choice.

She’d enjoyed her visit so far, but once she had some local currency and bought some of that delicious cheese to tempt Cat into coming here, she needed to get down to business. Find the fragment, if it was still here, or identify the wizard who had taken it. No more getting sidetracked.

As she headed for Kindred Currency, Dreya glanced around at the various types of goods on offer. Linen and cloth were available as well as heavier wool fleeces for the winter and a tannery selling cured leather for protection. There were ready-made garments, too, as well as foodstuffs, plus herbs and spices, giving off a heady aroma. Less pleasant odours drifted on the wind from the livestock area. There were blacksmiths and candlemakers, artisans and at least one lady who seemed to be trying to make a living as a writer of stories.

When Dreya found the place she was looking for, there seemed to be some kind of disturbance going on with a group in white robes, remonstrating with the two male Chetsuans behind the counter. Dreya hung back, not wanting to get involved, and considered what she might trade when things quietened down. She didn’t have much. In the end, she decided there was only one choice: her ring. It was a family heirloom of sorts, the price she had demanded of Prince Travarin of Ainderbury, after he had sent clerics to kill her. Clerics who were now her ghoulish elite guards.

The truth was, she didn’t care about her ring. It was a symbol of Sylfranian Faery nobility, which meant nothing to her. She’d really only demanded it to annoy Prince Travarin because she knew the ring, or rather what it represented, meant everything to him. Considering he had tried to take her life, she judged that a bargain price.

Still, the ring was made of solid silver, so it would have material value here and, in a way, she felt treating it in this way was one final rejection of her parents’ chosen destiny for her – becoming a Faery Princess. She had chosen magic, instead, and look what it had given her: a magnificent home, the power to travel to other times and other worlds, and best of all, it had given her the love of the amazing Catriona Redfletching.

Her family had rejected her, disowned her, in turn. Dreya deemed that a fair exchange, too.

The Sylfranian Faery had erected powerful wards that they believed protected them from ‘evil sorcery’. As if they could ever stop her. She simply had no intention of ever setting foot in Sylfranian lands, wards or not – going there in the past didn’t count. Those lands, the wards, her ring, they were all irrelevant.

She had briefly considered giving her ring to Catriona when she decided to propose, but it would have been entirely the wrong message. Instead, she had bought something new from another world, Earth. It was a symbol of the future adventures they would have together, not a past that was best left buried.

After a few moments, security guards showed up and took the white-robed troublemakers away. One of the two proprietors went with them. Once they were well out of sight, Dreya stepped forward.

The man called out a greeting and she returned the pleasantries before asking him what the disturbance had been about.

“Cultists,” he replied. “It was the usual routine: we’re all evil here.”

“How scandalous!” the sorceress remarked, humour creeping into her voice. “Might I ask, in what way are you evil, specifically?”

The man raised a questioning eyebrow. “You don’t know about the Cultists?”

Dreya explained she was a traveller and hadn’t encountered them before, “but I do feel I have a right to know before I do business with such an evil establishment.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but if you want to do business of any kind, that makes you evil, too.”

“So, these Cultists are against business? Commerce?”

“And industry and making things and just about anything other than simply worshipping the Creator.”

Dreya frowned, not that he could see her face beneath her hood.

“Surely, since the Creator, if we are to believe in such a thing, by definition created everything, it could be argued that by creating things yourself, you are in fact worshipping the Creator.”

“You and I might think so,” he allowed, “but not everyone agrees. You see, the Cultists say Creation was made perfect in the Beginning, therefore anything we create can only detract from that,” he explained. “Honestly, most of them are just harmless fanatics.”

The man who ran the adjacent shoe shop, having overheard their conversation, spoke up. “Maybe those ‘fanatics’ have a point, Kian!”

“You think so?” Dreya wondered. When she turned to look, she saw that he was packing everything up, apparently closing down.

He shrugged. “All I know is the world has changed so much in the last ten years, and I worry we’re doing it all wrong.”

“You’d rather you were still under threat from dragons?” Dreya asked, unable to comprehend.

“Well, no, not that, but maybe the way we were living then was a better, purer way of life.” With that, he seemed to give up on what he was doing and simply walked away, abandoning everything.

“Does that happen a lot around here?” Dreya asked Kian.

“Well, his reaction is a bit extreme, but plenty of others are questioning whether what we’re doing is right.”

“And you?” Dreya prompted.

Kian shook his head, emphatically. “I set up Kindred Currency with my partner, Reed, to help create standards of fair trade. Barter will only take us so far. If these Cultists want to spend their lives sitting around doing nothing all day, that’s their choice. Unfortunately, some feel the need to preach and harass honest, hardworking folk. Some have even turned to violence to ‘Cleanse’ the world of our evil, so please be careful out there.”

“I will,” Dreya agreed, “but I’m quite confident of my ability to take care of any threat, as necessary.”

Kian nodded. “Best way. The security guards do their best, but they can’t be everywhere.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Anyway, since I believe we’re both about as evil as each other, I don’t see that conducting business will do either of us any harm.”

“In that case,” he grinned, “how can my evil establishment be of service?”

Placing her ring on the counter, she told him she was looking to exchange it for local currency.

Kian examined the ring with a critical eye and weighed it on his scales. “It’s a fine ring. Pure silver. Highly valuable. Are you sure you want to sell? I’ll have to melt it down, so you won’t be able to change your mind later.”

“I’m sure,” she replied. “It’s been in the family for generations, but this is a whole new world, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It certainly is, and sentiment is all very well, but it doesn’t put a roof overhead or food on the table, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Many of us are having to make such sacrifices to build for the future. It can be difficult, but I think these are exciting times.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dreya concurred, watching as he scribbled some numbers on a small slate with chalk, doing some calculations. When he was finished, he gestured for the sorceress to lean closer as he discreetly showed her his valuation. Without any frame of reference, however, it meant nothing to her. She would just have to trust the recommendation that Kindred Currency was a fair and honest business.

“For such a large sum, might I suggest that you open an account with us and simply withdraw money as you need it? There are probably half a dozen thieves watching you from the shadows that you don’t even know are there.”

In fact, through her magic, Dreya knew precisely where they were, but she appreciated the warning, nonetheless, so she agreed to take only a portion for now and leave the rest in her account.

He excused himself while he sorted everything out, and while he was away, she noticed the pile of marketplace maps to one side. When he returned, she asked how much they were.

“They’re free,” he assured her, handing her one along with her money and account details. “If I want regular customers, it helps if they know where I am,” he explained with a twinkle in his eye.

Dreya smiled conspiratorially. “All part of your evil master plan, no doubt.”

He laughed. “That’s it exactly!”

Glancing quickly at the map, she noticed a shaded area in the middle and asked what it meant.

“We call that The Pit. It’s a combination of disused units from early businesses that failed, and dark alleyways where some of the more...exotic transactions are done. I don’t know half of what goes on there, and I don’t want to know.” He shrugged. “To each their own, I suppose, but you wouldn’t catch me going anywhere near it. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Dreya replied, “Thank you, no. It’s been a pleasure doing such evil business with you, sir.”

“And you, miss. Farewell for now.”

With a final nod, Dreya stepped aside to allow him to deal with his next customer.

The sorceress pondered her next move. She knew she really ought to get down to her true business here, but in the interests of seeing all aspects of this new Chetsuan culture, she was intrigued by The Pit. She had no interest in ‘exotic transactions’ but she was interested in building a complete picture of this place. So, after orientating herself with the map, she headed for The Pit.

*****

As Dreya meandered through the streets towards the centre of Axford, people called out to her from their various market stalls, inviting her to look at their wares, but she just kept walking. Eventually, it was like she had crossed some invisible line and the active businesses thinned, markedly, being replaced by empty shells. She wasn’t sure precisely when it happened, but she knew she had definitely arrived in The Pit when she began to encounter people selling items of an adult nature. A little further in and the surrounding buildings began to cut off more and more light. In these shady parts, she saw people doing probably less than legitimate deals in abandoned doorways. She found herself being propositioned by Chetsuans: males, females and individuals at whose gender she would not like to guess. She had no interest in availing herself of any of it, but neither was she shocked. Such practices were almost certain to be present in any world where there were people. Looking around, it was apparent from the general state of disrepair that this was the oldest section of the marketplace. Probably dating back to mere days after she conquered Phitonia. Allowing for the time differential, it was likely that Chetsuans were gathering here while she was fighting Kullos.

*****

A scream broke her introspection.

A teenage girl flashed past, down a dark alleyway a little way ahead, followed seconds later by three older Chetsuans in white robes, each wielding a wicked curved blade. More Cultists, Dreya realised.

“Come here, kid!” she heard one shout. “You can’t hide from the Light of Purity!”

Dreya’s chosen path naturally led her past that intersection, and as she approached the junction, she could see the three of them closing in on the girl, who seemed to have got herself trapped down a dead-end – a phrase that was likely to have a double meaning for her.

“Please let me go!” she begged, sobbing.

“We can’t do that,” insisted another of her attackers. “You are carrying the tools of evil.”

“Hand over everything you have,” ordered the third one. “Give it all up to the Creator, or you will have to be Cleansed.”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t! It’s my Mama’s! It’s all we have! Please, please just let me go!”

It looked like the girl was going to come to a nasty end, which was a shame, Dreya thought, but things like this must happen all the time. It didn’t concern her.

She was Dreya the Dark: a cold-hearted sorceress, a wielder of Dark magic who was only interested in power. Sure, she didn’t do random violence, she accepted as she walked on by, but that was just because she detested chaos, not for any moralistic reason. She didn’t do random acts of kindness, either. She was on Phitonia pursuing her own interests. The only reason she had conquered the world was that she needed dragons. She had not set out to save the Chetsuan people. Dreya the Dark was not a saviour or a hero. Absolutely not. So what if some Chetsuan girl died? What was that to her?

Why was she now thinking about her time in the past, about young Vashti? Yes, that young girl had made an impression, and yes, Dreya had taken her fiancée’s advice and played with the kids. But it’s not as if she’d enjoyed it...well, maybe she had a bit, but what did that have to do with this situation?

The fact was, Dreya the Dark did not go around saving children, and that was an end to it.

So, why had she turned around? Why was she heading back to that dark alley? Why was she running?

She knew who was to blame for this, of course.

“Oh, Cat,” she muttered, “what have you done to me?”