Sharian Story: Chapter 8

Shari hurried down the path to market, eager to be finished.  If nothing else, finishing in record time meant that he could dawdle wherever he liked instead of following Gaelys' strict list of orders.  It also meant that he might get the chance to visit with…friends.

Grinning, Shari entered the marketplace.  The tables and carts crowded next to each other on the narrow street, each calling out the benefits of their wares to passerby.  He saw the other girls his age, smiled, chatted, all that was expected of him and a little extra.  He enjoyed to bashful glances, the batting eyes, even as he paid for his purchases.  The men he planned to talk with later would laugh and joke that he was too young to be able to flirt, but he knew they were jealous of him. For some reason or another, girls seemed to respond to him.

It wasn't the talking that he hated about going to market.  It wasn't the mild flirtations, or even the several scuffles that he narrowly avoided.  It was the haggling.  He hated feeling like he was taking something from someone for less than it was worth. What kept someone from doing the same to him?  

Still…they always started the prices much too high.  That was the point.  If they didn't, they wouldn't make any money.  They planned to have the prices dragged down by witty tongues like his.  It was inevitable.

At least, that was what he always told himself.

Whistling a bawdy bar tune Gaelys hadn't realized he knew yet, Shari checked his list.  All of the normal things were taken care of, the vegetables, the meat (a rarity, a treat, something Gaelys would get very little of…), and now he had the specialty items.  Herbs and spices could be the last thing he purchased, but the fabric Gaelys wanted for some new spell he was experimenting with…that had to be purchased first, before they ran out.

He shoved the list in his pocket with a low grumble.  The woman who sold fabrics was an ornery old bat and difficult to bargain with.  He fought his way through the crowd as he resigned himself to an unpleasant experience.  What he found was not what he expected.

There was a girl there.  Something about the way she laughed and joked with the customers let Shari know that she was…different.  He'd focus on that later, when he was willing to tear his eyes away from her. He took in the way her hair, a gold more delicate than the fine silks she sold, reflected the sunlight in gay beams, the way her hands almost flitted from one item to the next as she handled her merchandise. When she caught his eye and smiled, Shari couldn't help but flush.

Unacceptable.  He always made the girls blush.  It wasn't supposed to happen the other way around.  Placing a self-assured grin on his face, he approached the girl's table and introduced himself.

The herbs and spices were promptly forgotten.