Chapter One

“You’re sure this charm will keep my husband interested in me?” The tips of my patron’s pointed elven ears turned a soft pink and the same blush colored her cheeks. She splayed the fingers of her right hand wide, pondering the obsidian and ruby band wrapped round her middle finger. “He’s been away at sea for so long. I worry he’ll find comfort in the arms of another.” Her painted lips turned down in a thin frown. “Or that he already has.”

She wanted the promise of magical binds. The security of spells and charms. The comfort that only something she didn’t understand could bring her. And I was all too pleased to oblige.

“With this?” I paused and took her delicate hand in mine. “He won’t be able to resist you. Why, the spirits would wager that when he returns home, he won’t have attention for anyone or anything else. And for you?” I squeezed her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over the mundane band, “I’ll part with it for only a hundred and a half.”

“Truly?” Her hand dove into a concealed pouch hidden in her elegant robes. “What a small price to pay for the promise of his affection.” Heavy coins jingled between her fingers as she pulled them from her purse. Her eyes narrowed for half a breath as she looked up at me, and she sipped her words like a soured drink. “Please pass along my gratitude to your ancestors.”

I forced a polite smile to my lips and nodded. “They thank you for your kindness. As do I.” I tilted my head to one side and watched her lay coin after coin on the counter. “I can’t help but notice,” I said, willing the conversation to travel a more comfortable path, “you keep your purse hidden away. Surely a noblewoman like you isn’t passing through the Silts.”

“One and forty-five, one and fifty,” she said, loud and proud as though I hadn’t told her exactly what she owed. “Gods and graces, no. I wouldn’t set foot in that district. But you can never be too careful these days. This city is rampant with thieves.” The word washed over her lips like a curse. “Cutpurses. Filthy little wretches, always looking to make an easy coin.” She gave a curt sigh and shook her head. “That scum always seems to flourish when House Tamar is seated on the throne.”

“Indeed,” I answered.

The right weight in the word, the gentle agreement, brought a knowing smile to her face as though we shared a secret. “Well,” she said, “if you’ll excuse me, I must take my leave.” She stepped from the counter toward the door. I followed close behind to see her on her way. “My husband returns before the rains.” Her words dripped with suggestion and the rosy hue had returned to her ears. “Thank you again.”

I watched her walk into the crowded bazaar. She edged away from a beggar and dropped a single copper coin in a bard’s lute case. He gave her a gracious nod in thanks, but she was too busy staring at the band round her finger to notice. She disappeared into the sea of people rushing through the stalls to complete their shopping before the afternoon sun blazed hot and unbearable over Hadar.

“Nobles are fools.” I smirked and pushed the door closed.  The burned wood plaque hanging in the window rattled against the glass. I thought about turning it to read, Apologies, we’re closed to passersby but decided it best to stay open in case more coin could be made that day. Outside, the sign over the window lilted back and forth in a warm breeze. I watched as Al’thea’s. Jeweler, Curios, Antiquities. Purchase and pawn. Fortunes told. dipped in and out of sun and shadow. “When their heads are thick, the wool over their eyes doesn’t have to be. Right, Shay?”

A pile of colorful silks rustled to life on the countertop. My disgruntled fox rose from the fabrics and arched his back in a steep curve. His jaw stretched with a yawn and his voice flitted into my mind like a scratch just out of reach. That was a fruit low on the tree, no?

“Coin is coin,” I said. I leaned against the counter and propped my head up in my hand. “We haven’t been getting many contracts from the Den lately. You want to eat, don’t you? Besides,” I reached out and brushed my fingers through his sunset orange fur, “I don’t see you offering to work.”

I do not work, he replied. He nestled his wet nose against my wrist and nudged me away. As he sank into the silks for a longer nap, he said, At least not for free.

A hushed laugh graced my tongue. “You live a comfortable life for little labor,” I teased. But he was silent in my mind and when he didn’t answer, my shoulders slumped. I glanced round the shop and thought I might clean the pristine shelves again though dust hadn’t settled since the prior morning.  Or I might take stock of the wares tucked under the shelves even though I’d not touched the inventory since the last count. But the day would be slow. The lull would be long. And I would be alone with my thoughts and with Shay while he slept away the hot afternoon on the counter.

The melodic ring of the bell snapped my attention to the door. I straightened and answered its call. “Welcome. May I help you?”

A small boy, barefoot and dressed in filthy rags, stepped over the threshold. He had seen no more than ten harvests and from the look of him, he’d spent most of them on the streets. With a ginger touch, he closed the door so slowly that the bell didn’t sound. He brushed sand colored hair from his brown eyes. “Are you Miss Al’thea?” he asked, looking up at me with something akin to wonder.

I tucked my long, dark curls behind my pointed ears. Each was tipped the same deep brown as my hair. My amber eyes softened as I said, “Only Thea, little one. Haven’t you seen a Kitsi before?”

“I knew you weren’t an elf!” The messy mat of hair had fallen over his eyes again and he reached up to push it away. “I thought foxfolk only lived in the desert.”

I smiled and shook my head. The thick brass cuffs in my ears sang a metallic harmony against each other. “My people are nomads.” His face scrunched with confusion. “That means we travel. Some of us foxfolk settle in cities though. I live here in Hadar, but my caravan lives deep in the great desert. Past the dunes and the hariberry groves. Beyond the ancient cliff dwarves and the high hollows. Now,” I rounded the counter and knelt in front of him, “who’s asking for me?”

He giggled, but as I sat before him, his young face turned stoic and serious. He pulled a crisp piece of parchment from his tattered robes. When he held it out to me in his small hand, he said, “From our friend at the temple.”

My brow knit together and I took the paper from him. A ruby wax seal held the letter securely closed. The cat’s paw stamp was heavy pressed on one side, messy and quick. I ran a finger round the edge of the seal looking for cracks or cuts. But my search came up fruitless.

“You came straight here from Temple Haza?”

“Yes, of course, Miss Al’thea,” he answered with a childlike insistence that promised he wasn’t lying. “I would never dillydally. Mama always said it’s rude to keep people waiting for important things.”

I plucked at the sealed paper. It hadn’t been tampered with. “And this came from the priestess?”

“Yes,” he answered. His voice was small and wavering. “I’m sorry.”

I forced my lips to curl into a warm smile. “No need for apologies, little one,” I said as I reached into the pocket of my tunic and grasped a gold coin with the backs of two fingers. I showed him my empty palm, and when I went to brush the dirty wave of hair behind his ear, I flipped the coin into my hand. I held it out to him between my thumb and forefinger. “Go on,” I said. “You earned it. Our friend at the temple needs good couriers like you. What’s your name?”

His dark eyes danced from mine to the coin and back again before he reached up to pluck it from my outstretched hand. “My name is Rafi.”

“We’ll call on you again soon, Rafi.” I pushed myself to stand and placed the sealed letter on the counter. “Wear the shadows. Do you understand?”

He tucked the coin into his tattered robes. “I’ll be careful.”

I gave him a short nod and placed my hand on his back. Beneath my fingers, I felt how gaunt he was under his dirty robes. But before I could offer him a satchel of food or filled waterskin, he scampered for the door. The bell sang its bright melody as he opened it. I caught the door before it closed and stepped over the threshold to watch him dash into the bazaar. He disappeared into an alleyway between the clay brick buildings of the Artisan district, and I was alone standing under my shop sign in the still air.

I Called to the idle wind and a gentle breeze answered me. The sign set to swaying again, sun and shadow dancing on the letters like a dozen days and nights passing in the span of a breath.

To my right, a quiet street of shops and homes lined the path. To the left, the bazaar was already beginning to quiet for the afternoon. Patrons ducked into taverns for cool drinks, light meals, and shade from the fierce sun overhead. I backed into my shop and turned the window plaque to read Apologies, we’re closed to any curious customers who might wander by. The metal bar clanked into its recessed lock as I pushed it into place.

“Den business,” I said to Shay as I picked up an antique silver letter opener from a shelf of trinkets. The dull blade felt heavy in my hand when I twirled it between my fingers. I circled the counter, and when he didn’t answer me, I nudged him with the back of one hand.

Maybe it’s a contract, he said, not bothering to open his eyes.

I gave the letter a final review to confirm that it hadn’t been tampered with. Finding nothing, I slipped the blunt blade under the wax and carefully broke the seal. The parchment crinkled in protest as I unfolded it. Written in elegant, exaggerated script, the note read:

Thea, Tobi is missing. 

———

A note from the author: Well, there it is. My first chapter exists in the world, in the most tangible way it can right now. I hope you like it. Not because I think it’s perfect. Not because I’ve spent thousands of hours crafting Thea and the world of Hadar. But because if you’re here, chances are you took time out of your day to read something I created. For that, I thank you. If you’d be so kind as to leave any feedback you have via the form below, I’d appreciate it deeply. The idea of asking for feedback on creative work makes me want to crawl out of my skin. But I owe it to my characters and my story to request genuine, anonymous feedback.

From the bottom of my heart, and Thea’s, and Tobi’s, and everyone else in Call to Fire, thank you.

[Update June 20, 2023: I’ve made some changes and killed some darlings. I’m deeply proud of how far this story has come and how much I’ve grown as a writer since starting this project. That’s it, that’s the update. I’m just happy.]