[personal profile] dethorats
Title: Avarice
Word Count: 455



Kalla shifted the weight at her hips and tried very hard not to sigh. It was all part of the pitch; the way this earnest-seeming young man had to go on and on and on, trying to garner pity points with his tale of woe. But avarice lurked behind the big and teary blue eyes and Kalla had her own, far worse story. All she wanted was for him to get to the point and tell her how much for the damned cloth, but every time she tried to interrupt him he gave a pitiful sniff and launched into more well-rehearsed details about his family’s ‘great misfortune.’ At this rate, he was going to ask for her first-born child, and that was a price Kalla quite simply would never be able to pay.

At her back Taerythos sniggered and asked if he could have a snack. After having ignored the low, grating voice all morning, it was almost a relief to take out her frustrations with a mental snap of annoyance. He wasn’t going to have any kind of meal in this town, not unless she found someone truly deserving of a terrible end. And the young merchant, as full of greed and lies as he most obviously was, quite simply wasn’t bad enough to die with his blood and soul sucked up by the thirsty demon strapped across her spine. Besides, as she told him wordlessly, he always said money-grubbers were too thin to make a worthwhile meal.

Taerythos shut up for a few minutes after that, only starting to whine after she’d plastered on a fake smile and told the cloth merchant that, regretfully, she wouldn’t be able to purchase his wares. The market place wasn’t that big and there were only a few stalls she hadn’t tried. Kalla ignored the grumbling from both the axe and her stomach as she headed across the dusty square to a smaller stall neatly tucked near the corner of one of the smaller streets. Bolts of green and blue and red lay on the smooth wooden counter that made up the front of the stall, vibrant colors giving her an unexpected twinge of homesickness.

It was rough stuff, coarse cotton woven together with a technique that was far below that of her village. But the dye was strong and wouldn’t run, and the cloth would be more than adequate for her needs. She purchased several yards of each, thanking the older woman who had only watched in silence while she examined the goods, and got a shy smile in return. Lunch, Kalla decided, was next, and, feeling generous, she even offered to feed Taerythos if he would be quiet until they got back to the inn.



Title: Coax
Word Count: 469



The minor-keyed melody wove through the air, notes at once somber and heavy and also demanding, calling. Eliza cocked her head to one side and tried to pick up the faint song once more among all the other noises in the bustling marketplace. Chickens squawked and hawkers shouted out praises for their wares, the dull metallic clanking of the cowbells and the occasional chitter from one of the macaques that lived in the trees outside of the many-armed goddess’ temple adding to the din. She tugged on Jack’s khaki sleeve, pulling him away from his painfully awkward conversation in pidgin English.

“Jack love, do you hear that?”

“Hear what Eliza? It’s damnably hard to even catch my own thoughts in this place.”

“The music. Do you hear that music? Sinuous and sonorous and so many other hissing words…”

Jack tipped up his hat, studied her with watery-pale blue eyes. “You alright, girl? Sounds like the heat’s getting to you. I told you you’d be better off back at the plantation.”

Eliza shrugged off the hand he rested on the stiff white cotton of her dress. If he’d let her come in a sari like all the native women, the heat wouldn’t have been a problem at all. They were only in India to see his parents a short while before it was on to his posting in Hong Kong, and she wanted to take advantage of all the sights. And was the point of having had an abba if she never got to practice what she’d been taught?

Smoothly stepping in front of her dithering husband, Eliza smiled at the dark-skinned old man and asked in somewhat halting Hindi if he knew anything about the music that had just reached out again to curl around and into her ears, the call of it demanding she go and find the instrument, the player. White teeth flashed and he pointed, grinning.

Eliza trotted off, ignoring the confused cry from Jack, and ducked around the corner that had been indicated. The music was stronger there, and she followed its winding path through the crowds, stopping finally in front of a tiny man wearing only a saffron turban and loincloth. He was playing something that looked like an oboe with an onion stuffed into the end, the notes similar in sound but this instrument’s tone demanded more from her. As she watched, the reed basket next to the man moved, the lid slipping off as a flat, scaled head slowly rose towards the sky.

Swaying hypnotically to the music, the cobra almost seemed to dance for the swami and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh in glee as she dropped a handful of rupees into the waiting bowl. It seemed as if the snake charmer could coax more than just reptiles with his song.
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