The crisp air filled his lungs, and Zan felt refreshed and more energetic than he had done for months. He'd been up early, and was making his way to the market once more. The snow had been ploughed into mounds, and the early rays of light were making headway on reducing them to nothing more than small stacks of brown and black slush.
He walked beyond the main street towards the square, wrapping a blanket tightly around his body. It wasn't for the cold, which wasn't worse than any other day at this time of year. He'd brought it to make sure his appearance didn't give cause for suspicion. Especially now.
On the other side of the street a group of guardsmen crowded around at the end of a ginnel. It was cordoned off with bright yellow tickertape, and a medical van was waiting a few yards down with its rear doors wide open.
Zan pulled his hood tight so that only his eyes and nose were exposed and increased his pace.
Striding forward into the heart of the market, it was slowly coming alive. Vendors were setting out their tables, lining them with their goods for the day as people walked by, glancing at what they had to offer and occasionally slowing down to take a closer look.
The bakers table was already out, with fat loaves of bread covering every spare inch. Old Baker Poladri stood, hands inside his white jacket pockets, and his trouser belt buckled above his navel to prevent slippage. Beneath the table a Sharptooth Firehound snarled, with its hot breath almost enough to keep the bread warm. They were the most vicious beasts ever to be tamed on Sykana, and normally found on the wild coasts of Zalig continent, or so Zan had heard. Poladri must have attained it at significant expense even if it was only hired, but it was no surprise after a theft. Usually it would remain by his side for a week, maybe two and then it would go back to the compound and bread would be on the menu again.
He kept his distance from the bakers’ stall and wandered back and forth, occasionally glancing at the woollen wares. The stern figure of Renalia Quza stood behind the table. She was elderly, and softer than she looked; her hooked nose and icy stare belied a sympathetic tone in her voice whenever she spoke. Some kind of brown furry material was wrapped around the top of her head like a stretched rabbit, and its stuffed face still bore a frightened look like the moment it was caught.
Laid out on the table were other kinds of hats - with bobbles and without. There were scarves decorated with different coloured stripes, and many dozens of blankets. They were thick and mainly brown and grey in colour.
As he watched, a gust of wind blew through the square, taking some of her knitwear with it. She scrambled to pick everything up, frantically trying to make sure everything was back in its place.
As midday approached and the crowds grew, Zan went to sit by Renalia’s stall. The light gently warmed his face, and his mind drifted to the encounter the previous night. Who was the man with the walking stick? Did he see my face? Where did the Violet come from? One thing he could be sure of is that it wouldn’t be sold in an open market like this.
His thoughts were interrupted by cries and a commotion at the opposite end of the square. The Government patrol horns sounded five times, and into the area marched the footmen. Their black uniforms were shiny, and their helmets were wrapped around their faces with holes only where necessary. They barged people out of the way, often trampling over them in the process and kicking snow and dirt into their faces. They kick the dirt on purpose. He despised them. They worked for the Greaters – the much more wealthy and powerful class on Sykana. The Greaters didn't frequent places such as Vlindra market, so these footmen were sent to do the dirty work, and that made them just as bad in his eyes.
More came in, rushing through like a herd. The leader at the front wore red headgear, and he held his hand up. The troupe halted immediately.
"WE HEREBY DECLARE THAT EVERY HOUSE IN MARKET SQUARE SHALL BE INSPECTED IMMEDIATELY BY ORDER OF THE GOVERNMENT." The foreman's bellowing tone reverberated around the walls and out to sea.
Zan watched as the footmen immediately dispersed, two to each house. It was highly unusual for an inspection in the middle of the day, so Zan assumed they must have some kind of urgent objective.
Shrieks and cries filled the air from all corners as some owners tried to protect their properties. Some stood aside without hesitation, yet some didn't. A woman guarded her door only feet away from Zan as the footmen climbed the few steps. "Not welcome!" she cried angrily. One of the footmen held a club above his head and struck her face from the side, knocking her sideways over the step wall and she fell to the floor nearby. He waited for her to get up but she remained motionless.
Back across the square people dispersed down the various side streets.
"OVER HERE!" The shout could only mean one thing. One of the diseased had been found. Immediately, the footmen marched toward the house, and threw their firebombs in through the windows, smashing them into tiny jagged pieces. In seconds, the fire was raging.
Zan looked back towards Renalia. She was stood at her door with her mouth open and a swelling in her eyes. This was his chance. He grabbed three large blankets and wrapped them around his shoulder, and stuffed two hats into his pockets, one in each. Then he ran across to the stalls facing the dock. Several were unmanned and he dragged a panier of fruit from one of the tables and scarpered down towards the river.
There were never usually any worries for him about taking what he wanted, but Renalia was kind hearted. He often thought that she'd probably give him a blanket if he asked, but it was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
He continued running for as long as he could, but soon the weight of the extra clothing took its toll. Sweat poured down his face and his chest began to wheeze.
By the time he reached the hut he could barely walk. The wind had become ferocious, as the weather had turned suddenly which it was prone to do on an exposed peninsula. It blew about endlessly, and the surf crashed against the base of the bridge, causing spray to leap onto the riverside walkway and then trickle back down below.
Zan dropped the fruit and unwrapped himself from the blankets. As he untangled, he looked up at the door and saw an envelope stuck to the surface with a silver dagger piercing it. The dagger had penetrated the thick timber and it was difficult to remove it. Only his entire weight would set it free, and he fell backwards while the envelope floated to the floor.
Scrambling over to it before it blew away, he saw an address handwritten in black ink which read 'Zan Kivani, The Old Ferry House, Vlindra.'
He stood and looked around. Some people were running down the street from the direction of the market, but they were too preoccupied to notice him.
Inside, Zami sat in the corner staring.
"Did you see who put this on our door?" Zan grabbed her face and pulled it towards him sharply. "Zami, look at me. Who put this on our door?" His lips pursed as he spoke and he leaned forward aggressively.
"Dagger," Zami replied, grinning and pointing to the silver reflection on the floor.
Zan leaned back and sighed. The envelope had a strange insignia on the red wax seal depicting a Firebeast with wings abreast and mouth open. He opened the envelope and pulled out the note inside, unfolding it carefully. It read:
‘You are invited to attend an assessment centre for people with potential.
The first class is on the twelfth day of the crescent cycle.
Assessment will take place over five days.
It will take place at Jankar complex.
Enclosed are your travel arrangements.
If you tell anyone of this invitation, your chance is forfeit.
Attendance is compulsory. If you do not attend, everyone will know what you did
Change your life and that of your diseased sister.
Welcome.
The Order of The Crescent'
Zan's jaw dropped. "Someone knows we're here Zami. We have to go." He reached further into the envelope and pulled out a ticket. It had the platform number, time, and the destination was The PIianzor Lake.
He stuffed the tickets back into the envelope, and grabbed the panier. "We need to eat something Zami. And when it gets dark, we need to move."
Zami giggled as she took a bite out of one of the pieces of fruit, oblivious to the juice that dribbled down her chin.
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