A brisk wind picked up as I trod the brick-paved path at the periphery of the Old City. The warm air was fragrant with the sweet smell of summer's fading roses brushed up against the damp aroma of lengthening grass.
"Good day to you, sir!" a traveler walking the west road hailed.
"And to you," I returned as I set to pass.
Ahead, a merchant was embroiled in a heated argument with another city guard about the tariffs for selling goods in the dockside market on the other side of the city. The guard looked flummoxed and gave me a pleading glance, but I was off of my hours and could only give him a pitying smile.
That was the most I could offer. That, and an unvoiced apology as I carried on.
The winding path ran north-south along a perimeter wall that was only ever worn down by my predecessors marching up and down its length. Here and there, decorative arches stood out of otherwise plain stone. The dull gray was offset by the blue paint that one or another artisans volunteer to repaint every now and again.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the soft sound of chimes, likely a market tinker attempting to get the attention of passing customers, but I never turned to see.
The rest of the Old City was more or less plain. Buildings made of wood and stone alike were small, nondescript, and most were in desperate need of a lick of paint and repair.
A moment or two later, the path yawned open to deposit into the Old City market. Once vibrant and teeming with the comings and goings of business, now was merely a shadow of its former self.
The wide thoroughfare had only a few merchants left trying to sell their wares. In a poetic sort of way, the shops always looked a little tired. As if haggard by the economic turn. When the New City markets came into their own, most of the old merchants either moved there or closed shop.
Now the market was little more than an empty square. A collection of old men and women who lingered out of habit, rather than the profit they once made.
Save one.
At the northern end of the market was the only exception. It stood out like a gem amidst rough stones, from its paint and ornament, and because the shop was spacious and well maintained.
The small window's glass was amber and framed with brass that gleamed in the low sunlight. The building had a wide porch, a breezy space that always smelled like warm spices and sweets.
I paused to gaze inside, though not to see the wares for sale. I wanted a glimpse of the young woman who ran the place.
Arabella was a striking thing. She had long, chestnut brown hair that she wore in a practical knot, or braided and down. She had enchanting hazel eyes with flecks of gold and green and her skin was light and freckled. She always wore an apron over a loose tunic and heavy skirts.
As I sought, a chime from her door sounded and I startled, caught peeking in the window. I snapped my gaze there to be graced with that now-familiar beaming smile, her cheeks flush with her brimming vigor and energy.
"Hullo, Dun! Fancy seeing you here today!" she chirped and held open her door for me to come inside. I noted that her hair was up in a braided way, looking a bit like a crown but, to me, lovelier than silver.
"Hello, Bella," I smiled as I ducked through the narrow door and found myself in her shop. If I didn't smile for her, I'd smile for the shop. It smelled densely pleasant, of tree resin, of green-cut roots and fresh oils. A bit like wet moss, I suppose.
Everything was precisely as I'd expect. Vials of colorful liquids and powders were lined up on shelves, arranged in patterns that reminded me of an artist's palette. The floor was made of wide, mismatched tiles plastered together with a clear sort of resin. The walls were of old dark wood and decorated with all sorts of things. My eyes lingered on the bunch of hanging resin-cast necklaces that all had a little bird or rat's skull suspended within. Very morbid tokens, but she says that they keep away most of the little pests.
"What brings ya by?" she asked as she moved to resume tidying up a countertop.
"Oh, nothing in particular." I shrugged. "Just off hours and figured I'd stop by to see how my friend was doing."
"Did ye now?" She tittered, sounding skeptically amused. "Are ye sure? I 'aven't got anythin' for ye, Dun. We're all out of those new pipe herbs and there's 'ardly—" her eyes went wide and her smile resumed. "O, wait! I just thought of somethin'. How'd ye like ta test somethin' new fir me?"
"Test? New?" I repeated and found myself suddenly nervous. "Uhm ... what sort of thing?"
"A potion," she said as she moved to rummage through her shelves.
"Bella ... I don't know if that's such a good idea," I sighed and averted my eyes.
"Dun! It's jus' a simple test!" She turned to me with a vial in hand. "I've 'eld off on doin' this one, but I need t' know how it performs on a live subject. Jus' a small sip!"
"It's not that I don't trust your concoctions," I chuckled nervously.
"Dun!" she scolded.
"It's just ..." I looked down at the vial she pressed into my hands. It was full of a faintly glowing blue liquid. "What's it do?"
"It makes a subject tell the truth when asked a question." She was beaming with pride and delight. "All 'is answers will be true. Just a wee sip an' I'll ask ye anythin' and ye won't be able t' lie to me."
I'm sure you could imagine my apprehension. She looked so eager to test her latest concoction and she seemed so enthusiastic for my help. It just didn't seem right ... but it was so hard to say no to her.
"Okay, Bella," I sighed and shook my head. "I'll do it."
"Excellent!" she clapped her hands together and smiled. "Take a seat there an' I'll get what else I need." She gestured to a chair she had set out for certain occasions.
I walked to the chair and sat, feeling suddenly uneasy and fidgety.
"Here we go." She was already in front of me and smiling wide with a cup of something that smelled strongly herbal. "This'll be fir the taste," she explained.
"Oh ... great," I chuckled nervously.
"Go ahead an' drink it! Jus' a sip." she encouraged, gesturing to the vial I'd been holding.
I brought the vial up to my lips and tipped back.
At first, the liquid was sweet. I expected some sort of tonic with herbs but it was thick and sticky on the tongue and throat. After a few seconds, the sweetness began to fade and a cooling sensation came on. It tasted of ice and mint, a sharp, biting flavor that seared down into the chest and stomach. I coughed and spluttered, startled by the abruptness and intensity of it.
"Well yer not supposed ta drink it all at once!" Bella chuckled and held out the cup of herbal mixture for me. "Here, take this, it'll clear yer mouth."
I reached for the cup, my mouth full of the acrid aftertaste and suddenly I was feeling very exposed.
"What question should we start with?" She hummed as she fetched some parchment and a quill from her countertop. "We should do somethin' harmless to start. 'Ow do ya feel about the other guards?"
I don't think I've ever felt so put on the spot in all life.
"Uh ... fine?" I answered with a shrug.
"Fine?" Bella laughed. "Jus' fine?"
"I guess ..." I replied hesitantly.
She tilted her head and gave me a scrutinizing stare. "Ye sound un'appy."
"Oh, no. I just meant ... that we get along." I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "You're another matter, though."
"Me?" She cocked a brow. "Why me?"
I wondered what the potion might compel me to say about my colleagues as I kept speaking. "Well, you're beautiful, for one," I laughed and my face began to feel hot. "You're friendly, too. You make me laugh. It's hard to get mad at you."
Bella looked shocked, her cheeks pink. "Ye flatter me, Dun. Thank ye."
"Oh that's not all," I said, still more concerned with saying something wrong about the guard than the words that were pouring out of my mouth like water through a sieve. "You're a good person and ... you have a lovely smile."
Bella gave a nervous laugh and looked away. "Ye really ought ta work on the way ye look at me," she chuckled. "It's a little uncouth."
"No, no. It's not that," I blurted out. "I mean ..." I cleared my throat again. "I'm in love with you, Bella."
She froze and stared at me with a shocked expression, her hazel eyes wide and mouth agape. I was still fixated on my concerns pertaining to the guard.
"I love your eyes. They're so pretty ... and your hair always looks so nice braided. I like that, too." I nodded. "I think you're beautiful ... all over."
Bella was silent for a moment, blinking and staring at me. It seemed that the truth serum hadn't worked. She looked worried.
"Dun," she whispered, sounding a little frightened. "What did ye say?"
"Oh. Just that I love you, Bella," I repeated. I was suddenly very certain that she didn't believe me and felt terrible for not being a good test subject. "Is the serum not working well?"
"Dun ..." Her eyes were glassy and she blinked. "Did ya say ye loved me?"
"I did," I said simply. "I love you, Bella."
"Are you jokin'?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"No, I'm not," I chuckled, feeling more relaxed by her apparent concern. "I'd like to marry you, but I know you'd never ... well, you could marry a prince. I'm not a prince. But I'd love you more than one, I'd think."
Her brow furrowed and her lip trembled. "Dun ..." she whispered and she looked close to tears. "Do ya really mean it? Ye love me?"
"Yes." I nodded. "I ... do ... oh no." My stomach began to feel sick.
"Why? What's the matter?" Bella asked as she moved to crouch in front of me. "What's wrong, Dun?"
"Oh. I-I'm gonna be sick." I gagged and pressed the heel of my palm to my mouth.
"Dun! Wait a moment!" she cried and rose to fetch something from behind me. "Here, this'll help." She returned and pressed a small clay cup into my hand.
I tipped back the cup and felt new herbs hit my tongue again. This time, the taste was of bitter root and water, a slimy and sliming taste that cleared my mouth and throat. I felt much better abruptly, and looked up at her.
All at once, the dawning horror of everything I'd just said hit me. I felt like I might be sick for a wholly new reason.
"Did ya mean it?" Bella asked, her voice unsteady and wavering.
"Oh, no ..." I whimpered and I put a hand over my mouth. "I-I'm sorry. I ... it was the potion."
"Dun," she whispered and tears began to pour down her face. "Did ya mean it? Do ye really love me?"