The Heir to Light and Fire by Joel Rousculp

Author:Joel Rousculp [Joel Rousculp]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Milo

Milo's heart pounded louder than the clamor of the marketplace mob. How had they taken my bags without me noticing? Fool! It should not have been such a surprise. During their long ride, Samuel had warned him he looked like an easy mark. He could hardly push his way through the people, packed so tightly as they were in the market square.

“Samuel, I'll be right back,” Milo repeated, but Samuel heard nothing. He was too busy selling his goods to a large group of people who seemed very interested in carrots. Milo doubted Samuel had even noticed anything had gone wrong. Milo forced his way through the crowd, making his way along about the same route they had come by. Maybe they fell off the cart?, he hoped in vain. If someone had taken them, they would be long gone.

He searched frantically for several minutes. Some people gave him dirty looks, but most seemed to not even notice him shoving his way past them. Milo felt as if the crowd grew as his anxiety mounted. The people were growing taller. They would soon trample him. A sudden, and urgent, need to escape the crowd washed over him. He pushed his way through, not even bothering with his 'excuse me’s' and 'pardon mes.' He had to get out. He was drowning in people.

There was no end to them. Milo pushed his way to the edge of the mob and found a door. He pushed it open and stumbled through, not caring what was on the other side. Anything would be better than drowning in the flood outside. He slammed the door behind him and found himself in a crowed inn. It was busy, but not nearly as overwhelming as the street outside. Milo could see all four walls and, knowing the limits of the crowd, set Milo at ease. Only a few people near the door had noticed his uncouth entrance, so he acted as though everything was normal and that he had been there a thousand times. Don't be an easy mark, he reminded himself. He made his way purposefully to the back of the room, as far from the street as he could manage, and sat himself down at the empty half of a large table.

The dishes from the previous customers had not been cleared away and Milo felt so hungry suddenly, he considered eating some of the scraps sitting in front of him. But before he could embarrass himself further, the server arrived.

“Sorry for the mess, love. We'll get it cleaned up. What will you be having?”

“Oh, I'll have a cider, I suppose. What's good?” He said it with an exaggerated nonchalance that he certainly did not feel. Milo, again, felt enormous gratitude toward his father for sending him with a full coin purse. His eyes bulged as he reached for the small pocket in his shirt. Relief washed over him as he felt the weighty coin purse that, thankfully, had not been stolen.

“There's a dumpling soup. Meat pie, and that's chicken today.

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