Page 18 of Quarter Labyrinth

Varla lowered the contract. “Has anyone explained the labyrinth to you?” When we shook our heads, she clapped her hands. “Good! I love doing it.” She cleared her throat, then began.

“The Quarter Labyrinth is modeled after the four seasons. It’ll be spring when you enter, then summer, and fall. By the timewinter ends, the labyrinth is over. If no one has reached the center yet, no one will receive the prize.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I interjected. “What is Callahan going to do with the Shallows and the Silver Wings if no one wins the labyrinth?”

Her words sharpened. “He’ll find someone more skilled to inherit the trade route, not someone who isn’t able to find their way through a maze.”

Clark nudged me, and I clamped my mouth shut.

She smiled at my silence, and continued. “You’ll encounter others in the labyrinth. Officially, we don’t condone killing. Unofficially, I recommend you stay clear of others. There are mazes within the maze, various paths above and below, and places for rest. With luck, you’ll reach the center with minimal difficulties. If you do find difficulties…” she reached into her pocket to draw out two small, red bags held shut with a drawstring, and handed them to us. “Toss the white stone into the sky to signal surrender. The next time you blink—no matter where you were—you’ll be transported to the edge of the labyrinth. You’ll have to find your own way home.”

Clark looked relieved as he took the two bags and stuffed them in the satchel with the papayas. But I resolved to never use my white stone. I was making it to the end of the labyrinth.

Varla laid the paper on the table, then pulled a quill out of her long sleeves. She dipped the tip in ink. “So, six jugs of water! Do you want two during the first two seasons and one during the last two? Seems a popular choice tonight.”

“That’s fine,” Clark said, hauling his satchel back over his shoulder. “Where do I sign?” She pointed, and he signed his name.

As soon as he finished, she rolled the scroll up, tucked it in one sleeve and the quill in the other, then clapped her hands. “Done. Those will be delivered through your time in the labyrinth, and here’s the water you bought for now.”

We practically drooled as she drew out two large goblets, filling them to the top with crystal water. I grabbed mine greedily. The goblet was so large, I couldn’t fit both my hands around it, and it took strength to it lift to my lips. The cool water hit the top of my mouth, and I wanted to melt right there.

Clark and I both finished our drinks without a word.

When we lowered the empty goblets, Varla was staring. “You can buy more water if you’re that thirsty.”

I wanted to say yes. But my mind turned to weapons and food now. Thanks to Clark’s generosity, I still had thirty-six coppers, and would need every coin. Around us, other competitors bought their wares by dropping heavy pouches of coins upon merchants’ tables. Fifty coppers. A hundred coppers. One just paid four hundred coppers for a map.

I’d give anything for a map. But my mother and I could have saved all our lives and not have four hundred coppers.

My gaze slid through smoke and tents to search for the glint of weapons before finding one.

“Maybe later,” I told Varla. I held my coins tight while slipping through the tight crowd to find the rows of weapons hung upon boards.

It was a popular spot. Around twenty other competitors stood with us, varying in age from a young boy to an old man with a crooked back. He still had the glint of youth in his eyes though, like he was set for one last adventure.

I didn’t let my sight linger on them for too long. It was easier to think of everyone else as obstacles between me and the only future I’d ever envisioned, than real people with dreams as big as mine.

Instead, I turned my eyes to the glorious weapons.

Knives with trailing tips, scythes with arched handles, axes engraved in silver, swords with iron pommels, and spears as tall as the young boy beside me who stared up at everything with wonder. Lethal blades from one side of the tent to the other. The thick air smelled of oil and rust, while the buzz of anticipation burned brighter as my gaze pitched beyond the weapons to the tall, labyrinth wall.

Three workers ran back and forth from the buyers to the weapons, fulfilling orders. We didn’t sign anything here. Simply paid money, and received a weapon meant to defend ourselves—or kill each other.

I shifted my weight in the dirt as I scanned the array. Would one of those arrows with the red feathers pierce my skin later? Or would one of those small throwing daggers end up in my back?

The young boy next to me purchased a set of throwing daggers, then scampered off toward the labyrinth.

I stepped up next, where a short man with a black beard waited for me. His sight took me in, then he spoke. “We have some small daggers if you want?”

My pride burned. “How much for that bearded axe there,” I pointed, then to the right, “and that slim sword?”

His bushy brow quirked up. “Axe and sword? That’s what Gerald Montclair carries! Or—” his face twisted as he corrected himself. “Carried.”

I didn’t care for that distinction. “He’s not dead.”

“Maybe. Twelve coppers each!”

My fingers dipped into my pouch before I paused. To my left, Clark stood among the crowd, gazing upon a sword with a sharply tapering edge, fitted with a blue pommel. He’d already spent coins on the water—for both him and me. If he bought a weapon, he might not have enough for food later.

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