Page 31 of The Ballad of a Bard

W hile West attended to his tasks, Crimson once again found herself looking through the massive book by Rapscallion Voss. She skimmed through all of the pages, including the ones with the Saints descriptions, and halted when she came across her father’s illustration. Her heart yearned towards it, as if it was the missing piece to everything, as if he could fix it all with a wave of his arm in the air.

He couldn’t of course, that would take something far more than a simple hug. What, she didn’t know. Nor did she care to know. Crimson wasn’t looking for him to repair whatever broken relationship there once had been.

But her eyes fell onto the description of his talisman once more, reading over a necklace she’d somehow missed the first time around and the rendering that sat nearby. Her breath hitched as she recognized it, and not because she’d looked over this particular book before. But because she’d seen the item in their old apartments at the Spinning Compass, before she’d had to sell everything their parents owned in order to purchase nourishment .

Crimson almost dropped the book.

Heartache had left his talisman with her.

It hadn’t been her knives at all, but a necklace. And she’d pawned it off, as if it were some common piece of jewellery. Perhaps that’s why he never came back. He’d heard that she sold it, tossing it away like she wanted to toss him away. She had to retrieve it, had to find it before they left for Valkrigge.

But where would it be now?

There was no telling if the shop owner still had it, or if he hadn’t already found an interested party to buy the item. Of course there was the off chance that customers thought it to be just another replicated relic like the Lucky Talisman produced and sold off to the highest bidder, for the highest price.

Crimson grabbed her brown boots and shoved her feet in, one by one. She tugged on the red leather jacket of Lyric, leaving behind the matching trousers. One by one, she laced up the hooks until it was flush against her tunic and shoved her hair into a messy braid. West had dropped off the newly sharpened dagger for her, alongside a belt that would fit around her waist. She hooked it on, sliding the metal pin into place and adjusting until the sheath was within easy access.

She could remember the name of the shoppe and where it was roughly located. In the Silver Gate, by the name of the Dancing Dragon. It had taken her three days to work up the nerves to march past the gate and into the well groomed part of the city, but no one below it would have given her a decent price for the trinkets.

Crimson turned towards his desk, folding her lip inward. She’d need money, and other than the tidy sum of it in her apartment, she didn’t have any with her. She rifled through the side tables, through the shelves and his desk drawers until she came across a small pouch with a leather drawstring in the fattest drawer across the middle of his desk.

She would repay him as soon as she made another visit down to the Spinning Compass. For now, she needed to hurry down to the Silver Gate and try to find Heartache’s necklace. She tucked the bag into her coat pocket, patting it until it lay flat against her torso. It wouldn’t do any good to have the obvious bulge attract thieves.

West was training with a couple of guards in the arena below, but it wasn’t like he’d forbidden her from leaving the palace on her own volition. And yet she couldn’t help but feel as though she were sneaking behind his back. She snuck a peek out the window as he dodged a blow from a massive man, Rook if she recalled correctly.

He wouldn’t mind.

Crimson exited the apartment, closed the door behind her and headed towards the castle entrance.

It wasn’t terribly hot outside but she still felt every inch of the sun as it bore down on her. It was the end of the week, so children ran about with spare change, fleeting in and out of the marvellous shoppes within the Gold Gate. Ten minutes had passed since she’d left, and she was nearing the Silver Gate. The lightposts weren’t lit and she didn’t expect them to be until the first brace of dawn took over. With every level that she descended down into the Empire, the guise was clear.

In the gate that cut off the Empress and the palace, the cobblestone streets were even, well tended to and even lined with moss in between the cracks to give it a natural appeal. The gates were straight and the folk that lived within were of the finest caliber.

Passing into the Gold Gate, differences could be easily spotted. The buildings were a tad bit smaller, less grand and there wasn’t as much flashy jewellery on display. No gem hat pins or fancy scarves woven from the most expensive cashmere. There was no moss in between the stones and there was less care when they’d been laid down.

Entering the Silver Gate, and it lessened. There were no ridges that lined the street, nor were the shoppes in such a massive bulk as the gates beforehand. There were fewer light posts and less green grass to fill in the gaps. Even the clothes had been taken down a notch, to colourful shades and an occasional ruby sparkling here and there. But the people who roamed in this part of Tazali were still far better off than the poor souls stuck beneath the Bronze Gate.

There was no road there, at least not one that wasn’t made of dirt and earth. Grass was brown, if there even was any. Anyone from all walks of life were allowed to wander wherever they pleased, but it was rare that one would find anyone below the Bronze Gate. Unless they were lured into the Blades of Blood in the Pits.

Crimson found the silver dragon that curled into itself on the wooden sign above a familiar building and pushed past a bustling couple who preened over a ring on her left hand, giggling to themselves and acting as if they were madly in love. The male placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before eyeing her up and down suspiciously.

“I’m not going to steal your items.” She scowled at them. “I don’t need to, see?” She patted her pocket twice, the sound of coins clinking against each other seeming to be enough proof to the couple as they left her standing on the stoop.

Crimson sighed and ducked inside, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of items all along the walls. There were thin vials filled with strange liquids that were more sludge than liquid, fat jars on top of small jars that held fur and claws and aged bones. There were wide buckets along the floor with random trinkets stuffed into them and massive carpets rolled up in one corner. If someone dropped a torch in here, the entire store would go up in a fantastic blaze of fire.

She weaved through the tall cabinets of curiosities, past the long-eared basset hound sleeping on the floor with a loud snore that could rival a humans. She bumped into the huge portrait of a rotund man in an Emperor’s get up, with a crooked crown of blue upon his head. Crimson edged around the counter until she found herself face to face with the shortest man she’d ever met in her entire life.

“Welcome to the Dancing Dragon! We have everything you could ever need and much, much more inside! Looking for a mirror that will show you your true self? Why, just turn around and you’ll find three over there! How about a necklace with diamonds as bright as the stars themself? Directly from the Northern Star himself. It might cost you a pretty penny, but you’ll be the envy of all your greatest friends and worst foes! They could be the same, and they’d still be jealous of such a mighty trinket!”

Crimson highly doubted that the piece in question actually belonged to the Saint, but she didn’t say anything about it. Insulting the merchant wouldn’t buy her any favours, and she needed all she could get.

“They all sound lovely but I’m looking for a piece in particular. One I sold here a while back.” She feigned disinterest as he grabbed a stool and hopped up the three steps.

“I can’t promise I’d have it still, depending on how long ago you pawned it off. But I can most certainly take a look!” He wiggled back and forth impatiently, as if he just couldn’t wait to make another sale. There was a glass display under his arms, that turned about and blocked off the second half of the shoppe. Inside the cases, there were a horde of items that even a dragon couldn’t resist.

Keys with tiny gems in the end of them, diadems with fake stones and bent metal, silver spoons with decorative vines hammered into them. There were chokers of the blackest satin, hats with the biggest feathers, shoes with long laces and dainty heels. She could hardly know where to begin looking for her fathers talisman, let alone a general idea of where it could be.

“It’s a simple necklace,” She started, mimicking how long the chain was with her fingers. “A copy of the Saint Heartache’s relic. It would have been eight years ago or so.”

“Eight years ago.” He hummed to himself, tapping his chin as he began to peer into his display cases. “Now that is a tricky little number.”

“I understand if you don’t have it still, but it never hurts to check.” Crimson admitted, knowing that it was scarce regardless of how long ago it had been. Saints talismans -fake or not, sold faster than hotcakes.

“I know I have a handful of broken compasses for the Star somewhere since his was the most common to get one’s hands on.” The man jumped down off his stool and started rummaging through the mess behind the counter.

She ducked as a book flew her way a minute later, followed by a second. He was talking to himself as he dug around, creating even more of a mess.

If that was possible.

“Ahah!” He exclaimed and lifted a tin bucket that rattled and clattered. “I found some!” He jumped over a fallen tapestry and pushed the stool back up to the counter as his little legs carried him up it. He set the bucket down on the counter and spilled its contents out for her to see.

Crimson stared down at the five different necklaces with the anatomically correct heart on the end. She immediately dismissed the two closest to her, because there were no chips or dents in them. The third was a golden chain, which was incorrect. As she assessed them all, she tossed the wrong ones back into the bucket.

That left two.

Two that were almost identical.

It had to be one of them.

She picked the first one up, examining the heart on the end with an eagle eye. There were chips and cracks along the carved veins, and the silver chain was tarnished just as hers had been. But as she touched it, there was no sense of pulsating magic that seeped from it. No imaginative heartbeat to rocket into her soul or mimic her very own.

Crimson didn’t put it into the bucket but set it aside for now. There was a seed of uncertainty as she picked up the last one.

But then there was no doubt in her mind.

There was an undeniable shock that charged through her as she held the last pendant. It was a spark of life, of death, of everything between. It was the very existence of love and heartbreak, as well as the power that the Saint wielded like a mighty blade.

She immediately dropped the second one into the tin. Her eyes never left the pendant as she ran her pointer finger over the crimson heart that dangled from the rusty chain that had once been pure silver. Tarnished and ruined, just like the human muscle could be if not treated properly .

“I take it that you found what you were looking for?” The merchant questioned with a sly grin.

“Yes.” Crimson bobbed her chin.

Because she’d found Heartache’s talisman.