Page 56 of Changelings
“Always been a strange one, keeping to herself.”
“It’s sad about her face.”
“Especially having such a beautiful sister,” a barmaid tittered,sending the crowd into agreeing laughs.
Balar’s ears flattened. Shaking out his mane and wings, he reclaimed a little space and breathing room. “Imogen is a strong, competent woman. Any would be pleased to have her as their mate.”
From the way the gathered townsfolk looked amongst themselves, Balar got the impression that no, they didn’t agree.
A growl shook his throat. What did these people know, anyway? Turning on his heel, he marched toward another stall.
“Wait, are you looking for something for her?” called the jeweler. “I have other things!”
“What about flowers! I have the last of the season!”
“No, no, she’ll want lace, for a veil, perhaps!”
Balar didn’t know how, but more than two dozen people flocked around him. Merchants, shopkeepers, barmaids, and curious passersby followed him down the stalls, all calling out questions.
How impertinent. How rude.They all spoke of his Imogen so poorly, how could they think—
“Get back, you ninnies!”
Balar came up short to see an older woman throwing her elbows into the crowd to make room for herself. Taking a wide stance, the woman declared, “Imogen’s a sensible girl. She won’t want flowers or lace. Come with me, manticore, I’ve got just the thing.”
The crowd whispered amongst itself, so Balar took the opportunity to hustle away. He followed the older woman back to a shabby stall on the edge of the marketplace.
Turning to find that he’d followed, the woman smiled wide, making her tanned face crinkle with dozens of lines. “Smart choice,” she said before ducking down to rifle through something under the front table of her stall.
“You speak very…familiarly of Imogen.”
“Oh, sure, we’re great friends. She always comes to my stall when she comes to town. You ask your girl all about Gilda next time you see her.”
The woman continued searching in her booth, so long in fact that Balar grew suspicious about her having something in mind for Imogen at all. He was just about to edge away when her puff of white hair appeared again.
With a triumphant sound, she slapped a little stoppered pot of something on the tabletop. “Here we are. Your girl will appreciate this more than anything else.”
Picking up the pot gingerly, Balar looked at the nondescript ceramic. “What is it?”
“A salve for hoof rot. With winter coming, she’ll want to stock up for the animals.”
Balar made the mistake of putting the pot to his nose. Even stoppered, the rank scent made him grimace and cough.
Gilda cackled. “It’s certainly not rose oil!”
He considered for a moment. Imogen was practical, and if she bought this every year for Chestnut and the goats…
Still, he wasn’t sure he liked the oily way Gilda smiled at him. Imogen had never mentioned the merchant before, and just because she spoke of Imogen familiarly—and more importantly without comment or derision—that didn’t mean they were actually friends.
“How much?” he asked reluctantly.
Gilda named her price with that greedy grin, and it made Balar’s eyes water.
It certainly was practical, and Imogen was the practical sort. With a sigh, he laid down the correct number of coins. The silver pieces disappeared almost before they hit the wood tabletop.
“Excellent choice; you’re a good man.”
Balar wasn’t so sure, and after bidding Gilda goodbye, he wandered back into the marketplace proper. He didn’t comeaway from the exchange feeling right about it.
