Uncertain Fortunes
On the morrow, as the sun sent a blush of red and peach through the sky, the baker got dressed, and carried both babe and bauble to market. The baby was strangely quiet as they passed the graveyard, and the baker felt a strange unease as if he was listening to the dead. The baby cooed and gurgled at other passersby, and overall seemed to help the baker get the very best deals she'd had in weeks.
The baker's luck was solid until she stepped into the jeweler's shop. It was a small building, and one she'd never had cause to enter before. The man looked at her with open suspicion, which ruffled her feathers. She pulled the ring out of her purse and held it up for him to see, certain that once his eyes touched on the finery he would be sure to pay a hefty sum.
The man had only just touched the ring when it clattered to the scarred wooden countertop. "Where'd you get that?"
"Found it." The baker said, trying to contain her self-satisfaction. She set the baby on the countertop. "Found this too."
The jeweler looked at her in disgust, and pulled a long shiny dagger from beneath the counter. He pressed her back out the door and shouted for the guards. The jeweler presented the ring to the guards and stabbed his dagger in the woman's direction.
The baker sobbed out her story, desperate to be heard above the gathering crowd of gawkers. She told them of the woman in the street, who was more corpse than she'd any business being. She told them of the baby, and she told them of the ring- leaving out the parts about using them to her benefit.
The jeweler told his story, trying to compete with the woman's screams for every ear. He labeled her thief, and worse. He waved a drawing of the royal seal, he pointed to the insignia on the ring. He made a fearsome case. He painted himself the hawk-eyed jeweler that spotted her fraud. He re-enacted their dance to the door, swishing his glittery blade in all directions.
The guards demanded silence. They shouted questions of their own. They studied the ring, turning it in every possible direction. Their frustration rose, their impatience thinned to nothing.
And then at last the crowd weighed in. Some sided with the jeweler, and some with the baker. Some called for blood, and others for justice. The crowd pressed forward, making their voices heard.
The baker's luck was solid until she stepped into the jeweler's shop. It was a small building, and one she'd never had cause to enter before. The man looked at her with open suspicion, which ruffled her feathers. She pulled the ring out of her purse and held it up for him to see, certain that once his eyes touched on the finery he would be sure to pay a hefty sum.
The man had only just touched the ring when it clattered to the scarred wooden countertop. "Where'd you get that?"
"Found it." The baker said, trying to contain her self-satisfaction. She set the baby on the countertop. "Found this too."
The jeweler looked at her in disgust, and pulled a long shiny dagger from beneath the counter. He pressed her back out the door and shouted for the guards. The jeweler presented the ring to the guards and stabbed his dagger in the woman's direction.
The baker sobbed out her story, desperate to be heard above the gathering crowd of gawkers. She told them of the woman in the street, who was more corpse than she'd any business being. She told them of the baby, and she told them of the ring- leaving out the parts about using them to her benefit.
The jeweler told his story, trying to compete with the woman's screams for every ear. He labeled her thief, and worse. He waved a drawing of the royal seal, he pointed to the insignia on the ring. He made a fearsome case. He painted himself the hawk-eyed jeweler that spotted her fraud. He re-enacted their dance to the door, swishing his glittery blade in all directions.
The guards demanded silence. They shouted questions of their own. They studied the ring, turning it in every possible direction. Their frustration rose, their impatience thinned to nothing.
And then at last the crowd weighed in. Some sided with the jeweler, and some with the baker. Some called for blood, and others for justice. The crowd pressed forward, making their voices heard.