“That’ll be two drachens and one silver,” Illius said.
“I can’t pay that!” The woman pulled back her hands. “For a single soundproofing rune? I’ll still have to get a rune lighter from the church to even activate the thing.”
“It’s a rare rune.” Illius shrugged, his brown eyes meeting hers with indifference. “We don’t make a lot of them.”
“Hmm.” The woman stood there staring at the rune etched into the wooden plaque.
“Can I see your light runes?” another customer asked, peeking over the woman’s shoulder. Illius had seen her before with her friends. They often came to window shop and sneak glances at him before laughing to each other. He supposed one of them had a crush on him. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
“Sure.” He led her to a different section of the shop, leaving the other woman to puzzle over her purchase. “Were you looking for something in particular?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Just something for my bedroom.”
“Maybe something soft then?” He motioned to the ones on the right. “Do you want it etched or painted?”
“Painted,” she said with a hum. “Etchings are expensive.”
“The soft, golden one is our most popular.” He pulled one of the small wooden plaques off its hook and handed it to her.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” She wasn’t even looking at the plaque; she kept staring at his face, taking in the light whispers of his stubble.
Illius shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Uh… I’ve been here a few months.”
She looked at the rune in her hands, fidgeting. “Do you make all these?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The owner, Mr. Anders, makes them all. He just hired me to help with the shop.”
“It seems like business has really picked up since you started.” She gave him a bright smile.
He stifled a sigh. What does she want? “Thanks. If you’d like, we have a couple light runes that are supposed to show up in different colors too.”
“Are you a follower of Aion?” she asked, then bit her lip.
“Why would you think that?” he asked, pushing his nerves away.
“Your skin,” she said.
“Oh, um…” The statement took him by surprise. True, his darker skin tone was far more common in Ravenmist where his mother lived. He definitely stood out among the pale people of Debendorf, but no one had commented on it. Until now. “I’m not really religious—but I believe in the Allfather.” That wasn’t really true, but one couldn’t be too careful.
“Oh! Then, would you like to go to a Chronicle Study? With me? On Friday?” She squeaked out every word.
He kept the distaste from his voice. “Uh… thanks, but I have to close up that night.”
“That’s okay.” Her face started to burn red. “It’s at seven. If the enforcers stop you, just tell them you’re going to the Tirethia family chronicle study. Oh! Here’s the address.” She took a card from her pocket and handed it to him.
“Uh… Hannah?” he asked, reading from the card.
“Yeah, that’s me.” She smiled. “I hope you don’t think I’m too forward or something.”
“No, you’re fine,” he assured her. “Did you want that rune?”
“Oh.” Her expression fell. “I—I really just wanted to talk to you.”
That’s cool—she’d just wasted his time and took him away from paying customers. “No worries. I do have to help the other customers, though.” He hung the light ward back up and went to help the other older woman.
“So, will I see you Friday?” she called after him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his boss pause and glance up from the runes he’d carefully painted on their respective plaques. “I’ll come if I can.” He’d make sure he couldn’t.
“Awesome!” Her face broke into a smile, and she turned to leave the shop. “I’ll see you then.”
He watched as one of her friends came from another part of the shop, and they left, whispering and giggling to each other.
“Sorry about that,” he said to the woman he had kept waiting.
“No worries.” Her demeanor had changed. “Ah, to be young and in love again.”
No thank you, he thought. But then again, this woman wasn’t paying for his opinions. “Have you decided? About the rune?”
“I think I’ll take it.” She handed him the money.
“I have to record your name as well.” He took a book from underneath the front counter and quickly scratched out the date.
“Why?”
“The enforcers like us to keep a record of everyone who buys certain runes. Soundproofing is one of them.”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything to hide.” The woman shrugged. “The neighbors won’t stop complaining about our dog barking—they threatened to call the enforcers on us. My husband wanted to kill the dog, and that upset all the little ones, so this just seemed like the easiest solution.”
Maybe get a new husband or new neighbors, he thought. But again, he kept his thoughts to himself. “And your name?”
“Heather Pruitt.”
“Address?”
She gave it and he jotted it down.
“Thanks.” He nodded to her, and she left. Looking around, he couldn’t see anyone left in the shop.
“Illius,” Mr. Anders called from the back.
“Yes, sir?” He walked over.
“You got her name?” The man smirked at him. “The blonde who’s always in here looking for you?”
“Yeah.” He took the card from his pocket.
“Hannah L. Cursey,” Mr. Anders read, whistling. “You can leave early on Friday if you need to get ready.”
“Um… I don’t think I’m going.” Illius picked up the card and put it back in his pocket.
“What are you? Queer?” he said casually.
“No. I’m just not really religious.”
“Hmph.” Mr. Anders stared at him. “I don’t know what it was like in Ravenmist, but here, everyone’s religious.”
It was the same damn way, actually. Same as everywhere else in Patria. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re lucky,” Mr. Anders said. “She said it was the Tirethia family chronicle study, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“The Tirethia family is still a big deal—even after that scandal with Debrick Tirethia’s daughter. Being impeached like that… I don’t think one girl who didn’t turn out so well should have been the downfall of a great man, but that’s how it goes, I guess. Wonder if this is a cousin running the Chronicle study or something? A least the blonde is pretty—got a nice face, full bosom.”
Illius tried to keep from openly cringing. “I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, just go. What’s the worst that can happen?”
I could burst into flames, and they’d call me a demon. Probably best to leave that thought to himself with all the others.
“You might cut your hair first though—you don’t want to look feminine.” His employer commented, taking in the curls tumbling down his shoulders. The door opened, and another customer walked in. Thank Aion. Not that he believed in Aion either, but he still liked to spite the Allfather every now and then.
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