Broken

“What is that for?” Kira yelled over the echo still ricocheting off the castle walls.

“They are warning the people that a Royal is about to enter the village. It is a courtesy on our part.”

“Why? Are they that afraid of you?”

He instructed the driver to take them to the marketplace, then reached over and took her hand, weaving his fingers with hers. “It is not the fear they have of me now, but the fear I may return. This will give them time to blacken their windows and make sure their doors are secure. Some will stay indoors, but most will continue with what they were doing.”

“They think you will come back and kill them?”

He smiled at her naivete. “Do you remember what I told you about a Royal’s gift to travel?”

Kira shrugged. “Maybe.”

“We must see the place in our minds in order to go there. If we get but a glimpse of the inside of their home, we would be able to penetrate the walls. If it were a new moon and one of us had lost control, it would not be safe for them. We take every precaution to protect our people-even from us.”

“I see.” There were so many things she needed to learn about this world. She couldn’t imagine living her entire life being afraid of the same people she looked up to. The villagers seemed to have so much love and respect for their king, yet at the same time, they feared him. She didn’t know what to think about that.

It only took a few moments to ride through the streets of the village and arrive at the marketplace. There were many more people walking about than the day she’d spent with Ussay. They all seemed happy and cheerful. Children scrambled around between the adults, laughing and chasing each other. Others played games in the street while some huddled in masses, giggling and laughing. It reminded her of the malls back home on the day after Thanksgiving, only she didn’t notice any shoppers fighting over their selections. So much for her world being more civilized.

Octavion helped her from the carriage and told the driver he’d send word when his services were again required. They made their way to a little shop near the busiest part of the market. Kira tried to stop several times to look at the other tables of goods, but Octavion kept pulling her away, insisting they go to the jeweler first. The rest of the shopping would have to wait.

Above the jeweler’s door hung a rustic old sign that read, “Rhombus” and next to it, a crude diamond carved into the wood.

“Rhombus?” she asked Octavion.

“It is the shape there. It means diamond. Some of the villagers know an older language and cannot read well. It is best to keep things simple for them.” He led her to the door and then took a few steps back. “You will need to enter alone, Kira. Explain that it is for me and he will know which ones to show you.”

Kira pushed out her lower lip in a juvenile, over exaggerated frown. “You can’t even come in his shop?” If she thought it would have done any good she would have stomped her foot.

“No, my love. This is also his home. Besides, I have some shopping to do of my own. I will not be far.” Then he motioned with his hand for Kira to go in.

She straightened her back-hoping it would bring her more courage-then turned and rapped three times on the door. She heard footsteps approach from the other side. At first they were light and she could barely hear them, but as they grew closer they became heavy and almost creepy, like she’d imagined a giant would make. She turned to question Octavion, but he’d vanished into the crowd.

Traitor, she thought.

When the latch twitched, Kira stepped away from the door. Her eyes were fixed on the space at the top of the doorway where a man’s face would be to match the daunting footsteps, but when it opened and she saw the man standing there, her mouth about hit the ground.

He was not much taller than Arela-a stub of a man who was almost as big around as he was tall. His mousy brown hair jutted out in all directions and his beard went almost to the middle of his belly. But despite his unusual appearance, the first thing that drew Kira’s attention to him was his smile. Even with the fullness of his beard she saw his heartwarming grin peeking through. His cheeks were red and shiny and he had a glint in his eye. She laughed inside, for her first impression was a miniature-rather rustic-Santa Clause.

“Lady Kira,” he said in a chirpy, high pitch voice. “I should have guessed you would find my establishment eventually. I am Kueelok.”

He took her hand and led her into the room. She’d expected it to be dark and dreary, but there were candles everywhere illuminating the gemstones meticulously displayed around the room. It was like being in a candy store; every nook and cranny filled with gems and crystals. Some were piled in glass jars, but others were cut perfectly and mounted in unique settings of silver or gold, resting against pieces of black fabric. He had crystals of every shape and color hanging from the rafters on delicate strings of silver or leather cording, each one reflecting the glow of the candles. They cast tiny flashes of color that fluttered around the room-as if fairies danced about.

He led her to the center of the room, then turned to face her. “I trust you have something in mind.” He looked at her with anticipation.

“I need a. . I mean. .” Well crap! “Um,” Oh, she was making such a great first impression. She took a deep breath and continued. “I want to talk to Octavion.” She finally blurted out. Then she pointed to her forehead. “In here.”

He chuckled. “Yes, yes. It is as I suspected.” He motioned for her to follow him to the far side of the room. Once there, he pulled out a small bench, slid it up to a table and offered her a cup of tea.

Kira didn’t know if refusing would be rude or misunderstood as an insult, so she accepted his offer and waited for him to pour her a cup. She smiled when he placed a mismatched set of ceramic mugs on the table with more chips along the rim than smooth places to drink from. She graciously took her first sip, testing the temperature with caution. It was perfect-a sweet aroma of honey, cinnamon and cloves.

“This is wonderful,” she told him.

“Yes, yes. I get it from the market. A sweet young thing makes it for me. Are you acquainted with Ussay?”

“Ussay made this?” She knew she’d made the tea for Mara, but had no idea she’d made a business out of it. “Does she have a place in the market where she sells this?”

“Yes, yes. Her mother and aunt sell her goods in the market for her. She prefers her station in the castle, much more rewarding, or so I am told.”

He drank his tea in two big gulps, then disappeared behind a black curtain. Seconds later a series of crashes followed by mumbled expletives came flooding out.

Kira chuckled under her breath. “Everything all right back there?”

“Yes, yes. All is well.” Another crash rang out before he appeared with a small, black leather bag drawn with a gold string. He brushed a cob web from his beard and dusted off his shoulders. “Been quite a long time since we needed such a thing in the kingdom. Wish I had a better selection, my lady.”

“That’s all right. Whatever you have will be fine.”

She watched as he fumbled through a large box in the corner of the room, finally pulling out a small swatch of black fabric, a brown bottle of liquid and a dirty old rag. He brought the items to the table and began setting his display. He laid out the fabric before sliding the stones out into his hand. One by one he touched the rag to the tiny bit of liquid he’d poured into the bottle cap, and polished each stone. He set them onto the fabric, pulling three small candles from a shelf to illuminate their full beauty.

Seven stones shone on the black velvet cloth. One she recognized as tiger’s eye and another she thought to be ruby. As he introduced each by name, she studied their unique qualities. The ruby looked similar to Lydia’s, only smaller and cut in a long tear drop shape. A blue sapphire and an emerald caught her eye, but they were almost small enough to be set for earrings and she wanted something more substantial. The tiger’s eye had been cut into a rectangle but her memories of Shandira using a similar one against her were too fresh in her mind and she refused to touch it.

The three remaining stones had names she didn’t recognize. One was pink, marbled with bits of grey, the second an almost fluorescent yellow with a rough texture. It reminded her of a lemon-not exactly what she wanted to wear around her neck the rest of her life.

The last stone, black as onyx, didn’t shine at all. To say she was a little disappointed with the selection would be an understatement. She didn’t feel like she needed to choose between which ones she liked the most, but rather choose the one she hated the least. She picked each one up and examined it closely, skipping the tiger’s eye.