![]() ![]() Half the peasantry of Freestone had one of her talismans tucked away into a pocket or hanging under their shirts. There were even charms for cleaner laundry. There were charms for weddings, and dog bites, and protection from bad omens. ![]() Old Makiva was a self-described mystic, though some called her a witch. The two boys were staring at a large purple tent, on which a wooden sign hung above the entrance flap, with script carved in a careful hand. Only the sounds of hammers pounding in the distance echoed across the square.įreestone was preparing for its Guildculling.īrock, Zed’s best friend, stood beside him. At this early hour, the air usually thrummed with merchants greeting one another and the busy chatter of servants haggling with grocers. The market itself seemed nervous that morning. Many of the shops were stacked on top of one another into colorful jumbles like painted blocks, piling as high as the city would allow. He stood in Freestone’s marketplace-a vibrant hash of stalls and tents crushed between the city’s wealthy intown and its outtown slums. Though the world had ended long before Zed was born, this was still the scariest day of his young life. For Mom, Dad, and Matt-none of whom are elves.įor my parents, and for Jason and Lindsay. ![]()
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