83rd Fall, 515 AV
Late morning
Rhu of the Tempered Steel
Late morning
People stared at Rhu as she passed. Frankly, she couldn't blame them. The crate in her arms ached, and she had to stare around it at her feet to make sure she didn't trip. If she did and the ceramics broke, Sal would not be happy. The set of plates and bowls had been carefully created and then painted by Sal, with the final one finished the day before. They were all identically coloured, with a pale blue (eggshell blue, Sal had said) coat and a delicate pattern diagonally across one corner. It had taken him ages before they were all identical, but very little time to decide to send Rhu to drop the sets off to his buyer who was, apparently, a little too old to carry them all herself.
The room the lady stayed at was mercifully near the door, and it didn't take anywhere near as long as she had expected to find the place. What did take longer than expected was leaving, as the woman insisted that she put the plates and bowls on the shelves for her. "I can't reach, you see dear," the woman said with a toothy smile.
"Then how the petch do you plan on getting them down?" Rhu muttered as she carefully and without being asked rubbed the shelf clean of dust with her sleeve. There was no point putting Sal's creations up there if they would just get dirty within moments.
"Sorry dear, what was that?"
"I am finished," Rhu said, the knowledge of Sal's annoyance if she upset one of his customers enough to stop her from saying anything else. The woman's goodbyes were mercifully brief, and Rhu slipped out of the house still with plenty of hours before lunch to enjoy herself. At a loss of what to do, she left the building and stepped back into the cold air of the street, tucking her coat in close around her and walked left with no real plans for where she was going. Her steps felt strange, and, unburdened as she was with the box, it took her a moment to realize why. Her sword was at home, having been left there after Sal pointed out that it was simply unnecessary weight and that she was 'going to deliver pots, not scare the life out of a widow'. It was a rare day when she left her house without the sword since its purchase, and the lack of weight left her feeling very vulnerable.
Rhu had barely started out when a man quite a few years older than her barged into her. No, not barged, she mentally revised after shoving him hard away from her, pushed. A slim figure darted down the street without apologizing, one hand deep inside his pocket. "What the petch do you think you're trying to pull?" the man who had stumbled into her snapped. For a moment it looked like he was going to actually push her back, and Rhu's fingers dipped down automatically to touch where the hilt of her sword should have been, but the man he was with grabbed his arm, and after a whispered discussion they backed off.
Giving the two a final challenging glare, Rhu turned to continue on her way. There was something of a commotion behind her, the word "thief!" shouted loudly, and she grabbed her pocket to make sure her money was still there. It was.
Someone grabbed her shoulder and shoved her round. Angrily, Rhu shoved the man back, but this time there were four of them, with more watching, and they did not look happy.
"Look, lady, give me my purse back and you can go on your way," the man said.
Rhu snarled back, as angry at the accusation as the implication he could best her. She might be many things, but she had never stopped so low as to steal - and if she did she certainly wouldn't be so stupid as to get caught. Rhu shifted, widening her stance and squaring her shoulders - perhaps not the best way to begin a fight but it was certainly effective in displaying her size. "If I wanted your purse, G'iib-tah, I would take it from your corpse." Although the words were in Myrian, her tone and the fact she spat on his shoes after finishing seemed to get the message across.
Fortunately, one of the four backed away, expression cowed as he awkwardly avoided eye contact with his companions. Unfortunately, three others moved forwards, and two of them had the sense to step around, one on each side, a neat manoeuvre to ensure she couldn't easily face all of her opponents. She tensed, eyeing the men one after another. With so many against her it would be best if she moved first, and if she took one man out brutally enough there was always the chance the others would run.
The room the lady stayed at was mercifully near the door, and it didn't take anywhere near as long as she had expected to find the place. What did take longer than expected was leaving, as the woman insisted that she put the plates and bowls on the shelves for her. "I can't reach, you see dear," the woman said with a toothy smile.
"Then how the petch do you plan on getting them down?" Rhu muttered as she carefully and without being asked rubbed the shelf clean of dust with her sleeve. There was no point putting Sal's creations up there if they would just get dirty within moments.
"Sorry dear, what was that?"
"I am finished," Rhu said, the knowledge of Sal's annoyance if she upset one of his customers enough to stop her from saying anything else. The woman's goodbyes were mercifully brief, and Rhu slipped out of the house still with plenty of hours before lunch to enjoy herself. At a loss of what to do, she left the building and stepped back into the cold air of the street, tucking her coat in close around her and walked left with no real plans for where she was going. Her steps felt strange, and, unburdened as she was with the box, it took her a moment to realize why. Her sword was at home, having been left there after Sal pointed out that it was simply unnecessary weight and that she was 'going to deliver pots, not scare the life out of a widow'. It was a rare day when she left her house without the sword since its purchase, and the lack of weight left her feeling very vulnerable.
Rhu had barely started out when a man quite a few years older than her barged into her. No, not barged, she mentally revised after shoving him hard away from her, pushed. A slim figure darted down the street without apologizing, one hand deep inside his pocket. "What the petch do you think you're trying to pull?" the man who had stumbled into her snapped. For a moment it looked like he was going to actually push her back, and Rhu's fingers dipped down automatically to touch where the hilt of her sword should have been, but the man he was with grabbed his arm, and after a whispered discussion they backed off.
Giving the two a final challenging glare, Rhu turned to continue on her way. There was something of a commotion behind her, the word "thief!" shouted loudly, and she grabbed her pocket to make sure her money was still there. It was.
Someone grabbed her shoulder and shoved her round. Angrily, Rhu shoved the man back, but this time there were four of them, with more watching, and they did not look happy.
"Look, lady, give me my purse back and you can go on your way," the man said.
Rhu snarled back, as angry at the accusation as the implication he could best her. She might be many things, but she had never stopped so low as to steal - and if she did she certainly wouldn't be so stupid as to get caught. Rhu shifted, widening her stance and squaring her shoulders - perhaps not the best way to begin a fight but it was certainly effective in displaying her size. "If I wanted your purse, G'iib-tah, I would take it from your corpse." Although the words were in Myrian, her tone and the fact she spat on his shoes after finishing seemed to get the message across.
Fortunately, one of the four backed away, expression cowed as he awkwardly avoided eye contact with his companions. Unfortunately, three others moved forwards, and two of them had the sense to step around, one on each side, a neat manoeuvre to ensure she couldn't easily face all of her opponents. She tensed, eyeing the men one after another. With so many against her it would be best if she moved first, and if she took one man out brutally enough there was always the chance the others would run.
Rhu of the Tempered Steel
