CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Finding someone wearing an obsidian necklace was easier said than done. Gantalla spent two hours wandering around the square, taking advantage of the constant trickle of people coming and going. But as far as she could tell, none of them were wearing any obsidian jewellery. Or if they were, they were keeping it well hidden – which was not a surprise. Gantalla had done her best to keep her own necklace out of sight, not only to keep her identity a secret, but because a wanderer in need of money and a job arguably shouldn’t be wearing such an expensive piece. There was the option, of course, of setting hers out on display and seeing if anyone happened to comment on it. Other people from Chalandros would certainly recognise the gem and perhaps want to make contact?

Or, on the other hand, she could just attract attention from nosy busybodies who wanted to know if Hallix had given it to her and delay her for hours talking about the wedding.

Or if she was very unlucky, she might even run into a nefarious Chalandrian who decided to out her as a demon, having spotted the tell tale sign that she wasn’t what she appeared to be. She’d learned well enough on the journey to the gate that there were plenty of people who could not be trusted, and after the shock of Nalyx finding out about her, she wasn’t prepared to risk going through that again. This time around, it might have a far less favourable outcome.

Giving up on the idea of just flitting about the square, Gantalla started to wander in and out of the local shops. Staring at the racks of goods on display gave her more opportunity to covertly watch the other customers, to see if she might spot something they were trying to keep hidden.

But after another hour of that, she had still failed to find what she was looking for. She headed outside again, her mind running in circles as she tried to come up with a plan that would still save her sister if she couldn’t get her a gem. She could dress her in her cloak, the long sleeves and hood keeping her skin and face hidden. They could travel by night – though that carried risks of its own. And when they reached Palashran, they could find a quiet cottage away from the city where Alithmain could live away from people, to minimise the risk of anyone finding out about her.

But it would be a sad life for her, not able to talk to anyone, not able to leave their own house without the risk of discovery. And Gantalla would have to be constantly on alert for well-intentioned visits from the neighbours. It was a sorry plan, but as a last resort, it was still better than letting her sister be murdered in front of a crowd of gawking humans.

She still had a chance, though. There were several more hours before the shops closed and her opportunity was lost. Ignoring her growing despair, she headed for the next row of shops, determined to keep searching until night fell and she ran out of time.

But just then, she spotted Gosta heading her way, though she didn’t know what the woman would be doing out of the hospital, given that she’d swapped to give Gantalla the day off. She glanced up at the clock on top of the town hall. Midday. It must be Gosta’s lunch break. Gantalla briefly thought about turning around and going in the opposite direction, then thought better of it. Gosta had been kind enough to swap her shift, after all. It was the least Gantalla could do to bother to say hello.

Unless, of course, Gosta was coming to tell her she was needed back at the hospital for the afternoon? Impossible. Not a chance. No, she had far more important things to do…

“Afternoon,” Gosta said as she arrived. Then she looked Gantalla up and down. “You look like a rabbit that’s run ten miles up a narrow path with a dog on its tail.”

Gantalla opened her mouth to answer, and found that words completely failed her. “Sorry,” she said, after a pause, not even sure what she was apologising for. “It’s been a busy day.”

“No apologies necessary. Here,” Gosta said, holding out a package wrapped in waxed leather. “I brought you a slice of quiche. Figured maybe you could use a bite to eat.”

It was a kind gesture, but an unexpected one. “What made you think that?”

Gosta turned to point up towards the hospital building. “See all those windows on the second floor? They give a prime view of the town square. And I’ve watched you wander about for the past three hours, going this way and that, ducking into shops, coming out again with nothing to show for it. Now, I’m not entirely sure what you’re looking for, but it’s clear you haven’t yet found it. And given that you were supposed to be spending the day arranging a wedding dress, I was thinking… Perhaps this young lass needs a willing ear to listen to whatever’s on her mind. Shall we?” she offered, gesturing to one of the nearby tables.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Gantalla agreed. She was making no progress here anyway, and the truth was, she was hungry. But as she sat down, she failed to think of a single thing she could say to Gosta. As unexpectedly pleasant as the woman was being, she couldn’t ask for her advice on how to find a magical obsidian necklace, nor on which city would be safest to house a pair of on-the-run demon women.

Thankfully, Gosta seemed more focused on the food to begin with. She laid out the wax wrapping, carefully splitting her large slice of quiche in two, then placed two apples next to it. “Apples are your favourite, am I right?” She picked up her quiche and took a large bite.

Gantalla managed a weak smile. “They are. But I’m surprised you noticed.”

“You do tend to go out of your way to avoid attention.”

Gantalla looked shocked for a moment, then covered the expression quickly. “I’m new in town. I’m just trying to fit in and not make waves.” She picked up her own food and began eating.

Gosta watched her shrewdly for a moment. “Not in the mood to chat, are you?” Gosta’s words were blunt, but not said unkindly.

Gantalla glanced over at the cage again, then quickly looked away. “Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“No doubt you have,” Gosta said. “What with the gate opening again, and planning a wedding to a warrior, and now there’s this green demon in the middle of the town.” She fingered a leather cord that was hanging around her neck, but Gantalla couldn’t see what sort of jewel was attached to it. Come to think of it, she’d never even noticed Gosta wearing a necklace before.

But then again, before today, she’d never had a reason to notice. It was only her current obsession with finding someone wearing a piece of obsidian that had her noticing now.

But a moment later, she put the thought out of her mind again. Gosta was as human as they came. She’d worked in the hospital for close to twenty years, she knew almost everyone who came through the front door by name, and for all her cool demeanour, she’d earned the respect of every doctor and nurse in the hospital.

So Gantalla wasn’t paying a lot of attention when Gosta slid the necklace out from under her blouse, letting the jewel on the end dangle in the sunlight. Gantalla was so distracted that even when she laid eyes on the jewel, it took a moment for her to realise what she was looking at. Gantalla’s mouth fell open and she stared at the obsidian gem, quiche halfway to her mouth. Her entire body seemed frozen to the spot as her brain tried to process the implications of what she was seeing.

“Come now,” Gosta said softly. “You didn’t think you were the only one, did you?”

Gosta? Gosta was from Chalandros? Grumpy, cantankerous Gosta who went out of her way to criticise Gantalla’s work?

Gosta fingered her necklace again. “My father gave this to me,” she said idly, as a young couple walked past their table. Seeing all the people milling about the square, Gantalla reminded herself that they were still very much in public. She would have to be careful what she said. “He was a jeweller out at Green Vale for many years. You might have heard of him. His name was Adrian Salas.”

The cryptic comment hit home. Gosta was a salas, then. In her native form, her skin would be jet black. The males of her species were huge and muscular, but the females more moderate in their size and stature. Gantalla nodded, then realised that Gosta was waiting for her to reply. “What about your family?” Gosta asked, when Gantalla failed to think of anything to say. “Where did they come from?”

“A place very much like this, actually,” Gantalla said. “It was always very green this time of year.” They should have found somewhere more private to talk. But of course, until a few moments ago, Gantalla hadn’t known there was anything to say that might have needed privacy.

Gosta got halfway through smiling at Gantalla’s comment, no doubt picking up on her meaning easily… but then her face fell, and her eyes darted over towards the cage, where Alithmain’s green skin was on full display.

“Oh,” she said, a wealth of trepidation in her voice. “Oh, I see.”

“Um… back to your charming necklace,” Gantalla said, warily eyeing a stallholder as he wheeled his cart slowly past the table. “I have one very like it,” – she slipped her own necklace out of her shirt – “and my sister is coming to town. I was hoping to get her a matching one as a gift. Do you know anyone in town who might be selling them?”

“Your sister?” Gosta said, an edge to her voice. Her gaze slid across to the cage again. “I thought you said your sister was refusing to leave Gadash.”

“She was. But it seems she changed her mind after all.”

Gosta opened her mouth to say something else, then snapped it shut again. Then she tried again. “My gosh, it’s rather hot out here in the sun. I think we should move somewhere more shady.” Without waiting for Gantalla to agree, she stood up, making a beeline for a far quieter corner of the square. Relieved to get away from the crowd, Gantalla eagerly followed her.

“There, now we can talk properly,” Gosta said, once they were away from prying eyes. “Gods above, is she actually your sister?”

“She really is. Just out of curiosity, how long have you known what I am?” It was an irrelevant detail, but Gantalla was eager to know.

“A bit over a week. I caught a look at that necklace of yours while you were changing for bed one evening. And even then I wasn’t sure at first. You seemed so human, fitting in so smoothly with everything around here. Then again, I suppose plenty of people have told me the same thing. But I’ve been here getting on for twenty years. How long ago did you cross the gate?”

“Three weeks,” Gantalla said.

Gosta suddenly coughed and spat out a lump of her quiche. “Three weeks? Great gods, girl, I thought you must have slipped in unnoticed and been laying low for a while. Three weeks and you’re saving lives, and finding work, and getting marriage proposals. Well, it’s no wonder your head’s spinning. And now your sister… You must hardly know which way is up or down.”

“It’s been a challenge. There are plenty of things I don’t like about this town, but I don’t want to offend anyone. But everything’s so different and complicated.” She shook her head, shelving her own troubles for the moment. “I really need a necklace. Do you know where I can get a new one?”

Gosta gave an uneasy shrug. “It’s not a simple question. I know where you might be able to get one. But she doesn’t always have them in stock. These things are rare as hen’s teeth on this side of the gate. Most people order them a good six weeks in advance. That way, she’s got a chance to get another delivery through the gate.”

“Who is this person? And where can I find her?” Gantalla asked. “I have to at least try.”

Gosta nodded. “Her name’s Kit. She runs a jewellery shop down Vintage Street. It’s next to the pub – the Staghorn. You ever been there?”

“No. But I know the name Kit. She’s a witch, right? I met her sister on my way through the gate.”

Gosta’s eyes lit up. “Did you, now? Well, be sure to mention that to her. She’s been here near on two years now, and every time she opens her mouth, she’s prattling on about her sister. I’d half begun to believe she’d made the woman up.”

“No, she’s definitely real. And she has a plan for getting through the gate. It’s just a matter of timing.”

“Speaking of timing, I need to be getting back to the hospital. But one more thing before I go. I assume that if your plans for helping your sister go right, then you’ll be leaving town?”

Gantalla nodded. “I think we have to. I don’t want to just abandon everyone at the hospital, but we can’t stay here.”

“I totally agree. And don’t worry about the hospital. You have a supposed brother in Palashran, right? Is he real, or just a convenient ruse?”

“No, I made him up.”

“Makes little difference, since people believe he’s real. I’ll simply tell everyone that your sister decided to make the journey from Gadash, and once she’d arrived, you decided that the pair of you should carry on to Palashran, like you’d originally planned, to stay with your brother. Neat and tidy, all wrapped up. And nothing at all to do with a demon that mysteriously disappeared from her cage.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“It’s not just because you’re one of us. I like you, Gantalla. I meant what I said before. It’s rare we get a new nurse who’s as dedicated as you are. It’ll be sad to see you go. But the truth is, not many Chalandrians end up choosing to stay in this town. Not with the warriors breathing down our necks the whole time. Those who do stay generally do so because they want to help those still on the other side.”

“Is that why you stayed?”

Gosta nodded. “Plenty of people who make it through have been injured. And it helps to have someone around with access to plenty of medical supplies.” She stood up, balling up the food wrapper and shoving it into her pocket. Gantalla stood as well. She opened her arms, but Gosta baulked, stepping back a fraction.

“I don’t do hugs,” she said, her mouth twisting in displeasure. “But I’ll take your gratitude as a given, and we can all move on. Godspeed, Gantalla. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

◊          ◊          ◊

Making her way down Vintage Street, Gantalla kept an eye on the names of the shops, even as she tried to control the roiling fear and hope in her gut. Gods, please let Kit have a gem on hand. She didn’t know what she was going to do if she didn’t.

After a few minutes of walking, she spotted the Staghorn coming up on the right, and she headed for the low building next door. The outside was fairly ordinary to look at, a sign hanging above the window that simply read ‘Jeweller’, but as she stepped inside, she stopped short, her gaze pulled in a hundred different directions. There were a dozen display cases set up around the cramped space, each one containing a myriad of beautiful gems. Emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, rubies, with the stones set into necklaces, earrings, bracelets and brooches. There was no one about at the moment, and Gantalla had the fleeting thought that it was awfully negligent to leave such wealth unattended. But as she stepped further into the room – and apparently a little too close to one of the counters – a low growl met her ears. She looked around, seeing a large dog lounging beside the cash register, its eyes following her around the room. She’d met several other dogs over the past few weeks, but there was something about this one that caught her attention, something canny and watchful in its eyes. Could it be…?

“Hey, boy,” she said, keeping her voice soothing. “Is your owner around? I was hoping to talk to her.” The dog cocked its head, then gave a loud bark. A moment later, an aging woman came striding out of the back room. Her age was evident in her wrinkled skin, but not in her gait, which was steady and confident. She was wearing a long, multi-coloured skirt and a purple blouse. Clearly, she liked a bit of colour, and not just in her jewellery.

“Ah, welcome, I didn’t hear you come in,” she greeted Gantalla warmly. “What can I do for you today? A necklace? Some earrings? Is a special someone buying you a gift?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Gantalla managed a smile.

“Actually, I was-”

She was cut off suddenly as the front door opened and a tall man came inside. The shopkeeper smiled at Gantalla. “Sorry, I won’t be a moment,” she said, then ducked her head out the door to the rear. “Liet? Can you come and see a customer?” she called loudly. “Sorry, someone will be with you in just a moment,” she said to the man, then turned back to Gantalla. “My apologies. Where were we?”

“Um… well…” Gantalla glanced at the man. This would have been difficult enough without an audience. But with another human standing around, unable to help hearing their conversation, no matter how polite he might have tried to be, it had just got profoundly harder. “Well, I was looking for a necklace, actually. Um, I’m sorry, I was told to come and see Kit,” she said suddenly, as she realised that she didn’t actually know if this was the right woman. She looked entirely human, and with the high neckline on her shirt, it was impossible to see if she might be wearing a necklace similar to Gantalla’s own. “Is that you, or…”

“I’m Kit, yes,” the woman said. “And you are?”

“Gantalla,” Gantalla said. Thank goodness she was talking to the right person. “You see, I’m looking for a necklace. And it’s rather a rare sort of piece. I have one of my own, but I need a matching one.” She pulled the gem out of her shirt, her eyes locked onto Kit as she showed her what she was wearing.

Kit leaned closer to look at the necklace… and then she went very still, her gaze fixed on the obsidian gem. “Well, that is a very rare piece indeed.”

“I know,” Gantalla said. “But my sister is coming to town, and I was hoping to buy a matching one I could give to her.”

The rear door burst open and a young woman bustled through. She had bright blonde hair and a wide smile. She took one look at Gantalla, then, seeing that she was already being served, headed for the man instead. “Good afternoon,” she said loudly. “What can I help you with today?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Kit said, her eyes flicking across to her assistant for a moment. “Why don’t you come through to the back. It’s the sort of thing I don’t keep on display, and I find it’s always best to let you check that you’re getting exactly what you’re looking for.”

“That would be wonderful,” Gantalla said, though even now, she didn’t dare to feel too much hope. There were still so many complications to overcome. With one final glance at the man, who was now examining the display case full of earrings, she followed Kit through the door.

Kit led her through into an airy kitchen, but she didn’t stop there. She kept going, into an office, then once Gantalla was inside, she closed the door, locking it firmly. Kit went immediately to the one narrow window in the room, pulling the curtain closed and fixing the side to a clip on the wall, to make sure there was no chance of it falling open.

Then she turned to Gantalla. “So you’re looking for a piece of obsidian. For your ‘sister’.”

“Yes.”

Kit nodded, her lips pressed together. She looked Gantalla up and down. “Well, these things can be extremely delicate,” Kit said. “So before we try and find you a matching gem, I’d like to check the setting on the one you’ve got. So if you wouldn’t mind just taking it off for a moment?”

Now it was Gantalla’s turn to freeze. Great gods, did Kit understand what she’d just asked her to do?

But of course she did, Gantalla realised. And arguably, it was a fair request. Gantalla was asking Kit to reveal the fact that she was a witch, by enchanting a new piece of obsidian. And in return, Kit was asking her to reveal her true form. To balance out the risk, Gantalla supposed.

She lifted her hands to the clasp on her necklace… then hesitated, paralysed with indecision. Even though Gosta had told her to come here, could she really trust Kit? What if something went wrong? What if someone saw her?

Kit was watching her steadily, her expression carefully neutral, while there was a certain tension in her shoulders. And Gantalla suddenly had to wonder if any humans had ever found out their secrets and set out to trap them – most likely through a situation very much like this. If that was the case, then Kit was right to be cautious.

There was no other way out of this mess, Gantalla decided finally, and so, before she could change her mind, she undid the clasp and lowered her arms. Even before they reached waist-level, Gantalla could see that her skin had returned to its natural green. Her claws elongated and her tail uncoiled uncomfortably down the back of her trousers. In Chalandros, trousers had a slit in the back to accommodate her tail, but human clothes had no such design.

Kit simply stared at her for a moment, but the tension eased out of her shoulders. “Hadathmet,” she said, nodding slowly. “I see. And your ‘sister’? Is she the same as you?”

“She is.”

Then suddenly, a look of deep concern came over Kit’s face. “Oh gods, she’s not… Is she the one in the square?” She’d dropped her voice to a mere whisper, and it was no surprise that she’d already heard of the ‘demon’ the warriors had captured. Gantalla felt tears fill her eyes, but she brushed them away, blinking quickly.

“Yes. I can’t leave her there.”

But Kit’s face fell at the news. “How in the world do you expect to be able to-”

“I have help,” Gantalla interrupted her. “That’s all I can say for now. But I need a necklace for her once we get her out.”

“And what will you do after that?”

“Leave town. We’re heading for Palashran. To get away from the gate.”

Kit nodded. “Not a bad idea. I have a gem I could give you.” She took a key out of her pocket and unlocked a drawer on the desk, taking a necklace out with a black gem dangling from the middle. “But let’s talk price. These don’t come cheap, but not because I’m trying to profit from desperate people. It takes blood, sweat and a small fortune in bribes to get these through the gate. How much do you have?”

Gantalla pulled out the bag of coins Nalyx had given her and spilled them onto the desk. She counted them quickly. “Twelve silver coins.”

Kit winced. “Oh, that’s a fair bit less than I usually do this for.” It wasn’t an outright refusal, but it also wasn’t looking hopeful. Then Gantalla remembered her own purse of coins, earned from her work at the hospital.

“I have more,” she said quickly, pulling out the purse and emptying it onto the table. There were fifty copper coins inside. Gantalla hadn’t been buying anything extravagant, but after paying for her food and board at the hospital, along with a couple of sets of clothes, that was all that was left.

Kit stared at the pile of coins, a frown furrowing her forehead.

“Still not enough?” Gantalla guessed. Where on earth could she get more money from at such short notice?

“You said you’re heading for Palashran?” Kit said, and Gantalla nodded. “Then maybe we can make a deal to cover the rest of the payment.” She looked at Gantalla shrewdly. “There’s a witch who lives in Green Vale. It’s a little over halfway between here and Palashran. She owns a pub with a small hotel above it. Plenty of travellers coming and going, if you get my drift?”

Gantalla nodded. Rather than a mere hotel, it was likely a boarding house for people escaping from Chalandros.

“The pub’s called the Black Hound. The witch’s name is Lucia. Give her this.” She held out a large stone, and as Gantalla took it, she realised it was a huge chunk of obsidian. It was about the size of her fist, and if worked carefully, it was big enough to make at least ten necklaces. “I’m in regular contact with her,” Kit went on, a warning note in her voice. “And I will find out whether or not she receives this.”

“I won’t let you down,” Gantalla promised. Delivering the gem was a small price to pay for freeing her sister.

“Once you’re settled in Palashran, write to me and let me know where you are. Because this is the final part of the deal. On occasion, I may send travellers your way. And I’d expect you to show them hospitality and to help them out in whatever way you’re able.” She levelled a stern frown at her. “Our kind have to stick together.”

Gantalla nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. But how many of us are there?” Since arriving in Minia, she’d seen nothing that would have hinted at the presence of more of their people.

“About a hundred, here in town. Plenty more, spread out over the countryside.”

Gantalla’s jaw dropped. “I hadn’t realised there were so many.”

Kit shrugged. “They try to keep a low profile. For obvious reasons. But we have networks, trading gems and information and helping each other out when we can. It’s the only way we’re ever going to survive. So do we have a deal?”

“We do,” Gantalla agreed.

“Well then, let’s get down to work.”

Kit sat down at the table, setting the gem in front of her. Then she reached up and undid the clasp on her own necklace. Her hair rippled, then changed to a deep blue colour, while her previously brown eyes flickered to a bright amber.

She held out her hands, muttering to herself, and Gantalla watched as swirls of magic spilled from her fingers, disappearing inside the gem. A few minutes later, she was done. She stood up, handed the gem to Gantalla, and swept the pile of coins into the drawer.

Then she replaced the necklace around her throat and reactivated it, and Gantalla did the same. With both of them once again disguised as humans, Gantalla turned to the door. But then she remembered the other thing she needed to do here.

“Just before I go, I should tell you that… I saw Mintesh on my way through the gate.”

Kit’s face suddenly went pale. “Oh gods, she’s alive?”

“She was three weeks ago,” Gantalla said, knowing how quickly fortunes could change in Chalandros. “She said she was waiting for her son. She’s the one who gave me this.” She held up her own gem. Then she detailed the instructions Mintesh had given her for getting through the gate. “My guess is that if her son shows up this cycle, she’ll come through on the last day. And if she does, I thought you should know. Maybe you can go and meet her.”

“I’ll do that,” Kit said. “And thank you. Godspeed, Gantalla. I hope you make it. And your sister, too.”