"Put the hood on and don't say anything."
Jean instructed as we moved up in the queue toward the large iron gates. I did as he said, remembering that Tomlin had mentioned the same thing when we had left.
Was it because I hadn't paid to participate?
"Next!" Came the voice of a guard as we pulled up to them.
There were four standing by the open archway; they were all dressed in dark blue and silver uniforms, with an emblem emblazoned on their chests. It was a shield with two roses entwined, sharing one stem. The sight of it triggered something in my memory that sent a jolting pain across my forehead, causing me to wince and audibly say, 'ow.'
"What did you say?" came the voice again of the guard who had called us forward.
Shit. I wasn't supposed to draw attention to myself.
I lowered my head, letting the hood fall forward, even more, covering my face from his view. I heard his steps approaching and then saw his boots as he stood next to me by the cart.
"She couldn't have said anything," Jean said, sounding more confident than I had heard him before, "She's mute."
"Why is she covered then?" I saw the guard's hand reaching out toward me, and I pulled away.
"She has terrible burns on her face." Jean continued, "You really don't want to see her face. Trust me, this is best for everyone's sake."
But the guard didn't seem convinced as he continued to approach me.
"Her skin is all peeled. It is raw flesh, oozing pus because of an infection." Jean added, sounding disgusted. " I am taking her to see a physician, but I don't think there's any hope for her."
The guard withdrew his hand and made a gagging sound as he walked away.
"Just go on through." He waved us in, and we went right on through.
"Quick thinking." I complimented Jean as soon as we were out of earshot.
"Oh, thanks," he stammered as a blush crept up his neck, "Vinard is a good soldier, but he's a bit squeamish."
"Why do I have to keep the cloak on?" I asked, as the early morning sun was already starting to make me sweat under the wool.
Jean extended his arms as we came out of the entry tunnel and into the city. My jaw dropped.
The city was stirring with frenetic energy, even though the sun had just risen. Tall buildings made of stone were clustered together, and their roofs were a patchwork of rust and brown tiles. Some of the buildings appeared ancient, with winding ivy and moss creeping up their sides, while others were newer, but still built in the same design.
On each side of us, as Jean deftly navigated the cart, were stalls of all sorts of wares and goods. Men and women rushed along the narrow cobblestone streets and through the open markets.
What the hell is this place?
"Aeloria is the second largest city in the kingdom," Jean informed me, as if he had read my mind.
"How long does it take to take down all of this?" My mind was struggling to grasp what I was seeing. The scientists I worked with made a good living, but there was no way they earned this kind of money. This was 'buy your own island' kind of money.
"The stalls are cleared out every night by sundown," Jean answered, "but some of them take shifts guarding so that they don't have to take down everything."
"That's not what I meant, Jean. I was talking about after the event. I mean… there's no way this is temporary, right? Do you hire teams to dismantle all this? Like, professional teardown crews? I mean, sure, the buildings probably stay, but the rest—how do you store all of it? Where does it go?" I rambled as I kept trying to convince myself of what was in front of me.
"I'm not quite following." That was all that the young man said to me, as he pulled hard on the reins, stopping the cart abruptly.
Everyone in front of us had stopped moving, all rooted to their spots. Though far ahead, I saw them parting as someone came walking down the middle of the road.
"Who is that?" I asked Jean, leaning over to get a better view.
Jean's breathing was hard, his grip on the reins was tight, his knuckles had turned white, and his eyes were fixed dead ahead, fear clouding them.
"Miss Mara, you have to get down and hide."
"What do you mean…why?"
He didn't turn to me; he just whispered, lower this time. "Please do it. You have to do it now." His hands trembled as he spoke.
It is too early for this. Nonetheless, I hopped off the cart and quickly surveyed for a place to hide. There was a space between the stalls that lay in the shadow of the building behind it. I rushed toward it. I expected someone in the stalls to notice me, but they were all too busy working or pretending to work. It was almost as if no one wanted to draw attention to themselves either.
When I arrived at the shadowed space, I felt the temperature drop significantly, cooler than it should be, even though it was out of direct sunlight. It seemed to wrap itself around me as I stood in it, watching Jean and the others. And it watched me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I hid myself.
"What is he doing here?" The vendor at the nearest stall whispered to the customer, who was taking a really long look at an apple with severe bruising and worm holes.
"Who the hell knows," the apple man answered, directing the conversation elsewhere. "How did you grow such beautiful apples?"
From the parted sea of people, I saw a man walk out. He was tall, but looked shorter than he was due to his protruding stomach, which seemed to be struggling to stay confined within his jacket. He wore a velvet suit of dark green that was tailored one size too small in all the important areas. The sun gleamed off his sweaty bald head, but he did have some hair. Straggly locks that were tied in a low ponytail at the base of his head. His face seemed to be frozen in a perpetual sneer as he cast glances all around him.
No one made eye contact with him. In fact, everyone seemed to make themselves busier the closer that he got.
He walked into one of the buildings, and the spell that he had on the crowd broke. They all began to move normally, though no one mentioned the man at all. Afraid that if they did, they would invoke him.
The crowd began to move normally again, or at least they tried; the narrow street offered little space for them to maneuver without bumping into each other. The carts had to wait for the group to thin out before they could start moving.
I crept past the vendors and quickly got myself back on the cart. Jean was still frozen, his gaze was directly ahead, and his posture was stiff. He jumped slightly as I laid my hand on his, trying to get his attention. As soon as his gaze landed on me, his panic shot up. I sensed it by how his eyes started darting around him, particularly in the direction where that rotund man had disappeared.
"Who was that?"
"Shh..not here." Jean turned to look forward again, and we moved ahead.
We passed a sprawling plaza. The buildings surrounding the square here stood taller, their walls painted in soft pastels, each adorned with intricate woodwork and wrought iron balconies. Bright flowers spilled from window boxes and climbed up trellises. Striped banners swayed gently overhead, while canopies stretched over the cobbled walkways below, offering shade to those who lingered at the tables outside.
The people waiting in line were dressed in opulent gowns and fancy suits, their faces powdered and rosy, and their hair coiffed up in hairstyles. They looked like they stepped out of a scene from Versailles.
They must be baking in those outfits.
The cart lurched around the first left turn, wheels rattling against uneven cobblestones. Gone were the pastel walls and iron balconies. Here, splintered wooden beams propped up sagging roofs, and laundry lines stretched between windows where shutters hung crooked on rusted hinges. A woman with calloused hands scrubbed a shirt against a washboard, her fingers red and raw. Nearby, a boy no older than twelve hauled a sack twice his size, shoulders hunched forward, eyes fixed on the ground as he trudged past. Jean nodded at them—a gesture they returned with the same mechanical tilt of their chins, never quite meeting his gaze.
Nothing was making sense. Was this place like a cruise ship? Did people live here full-time as they worked? Or was it some billionaire's weird social experiment? The rich definitely lived in a different reality from the common folk.
My head was starting to hurt from trying to figure out what was going on around me.
Jean steered us into a cramped plaza where vendors shouted prices over each other and the scent of overripe fruit hung heavy in the air. Flies buzzed around baskets of bruised apples and split tomatoes, leaking juice onto wooden tables.
"Wait here," Jean said, already jumping down from the cart, muscles tensing as he gripped the first crate.
"I can help you with—"
"No." His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. Then softer: "Just wait here, please. I won't take long." He hoisted three crates at once, biceps straining against his sleeves as he disappeared into the crowd.
I sank back against the wooden seat, fingers tracing the splintered edge. Beyond the cart stretched a maze of unfamiliar faces and winding alleys that seemed to fold into themselves.
Jean returned twice more, sweat darkening his collar as he stacked and carried the remaining crates, never pausing to wipe his brow.
A deep blue flag fluttered above each stall's right pillar, two roses entwined on a single stem, threaded in silver. The same emblem that had been pressed into the guard's chest.
Pain shot behind my eyes. The marketplace tilted sideways. I doubled over, bile burning up my throat, and spattering between my boots.
"Wear this, and never take it off."
The voice was high, reedy, like a child's. It was the same one I had heard during the blessing. I scanned the crowd, searching for a small figure darting between skirts and trousers, but found only adults bartering and browsing, none of whom glanced my way.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was watching me.
Twenty paces away stood a figure in robes of deep purple. Sunlight bleached his hair white-gold. His eyes seemed to be the same color as his robes…that's impossible, I thought.
Those eyes held mine, unblinking.
"You can come down now. I'll walk you over." Jean's voice shattered the moment. I jumped in my seat as I turned to look at him.
I whipped back toward the purple-eyed man, but found only empty cobblestones where he had stood.