Misti and the Dragon Egg

The streets slithered and split and rejoined in meanders of sand and clay. Misti was lucky no one was in the streets at this hour. She got lost and had to retrace her steps, pick a new street, change direction. The street signs didn’t help her, and she was getting desperate. Where in the gods’ names was the Kotma Ata market?

She’d have to rely on scent and scent alone. If she could catch a whiff of fruit or bread or meat or whatever the sithrax ate, she’d head in that direction.

Misti passed more of these rounded dwellings. She wasn’t making a noise, not a single peep, but she gasped when she heard a door open. Behind her, someone had come out of the hive, something large because their footsteps were loud and heavy. It was a sithrax, tall and imposing, dressed in a black linen tunic. Misti rushed to the dark space between two houses and hid there, perfectly still, praying the creature wouldn’t see her. He walked by Misti and dragged something behind him.

Someone.

In the lizardman’s hand was a leather cord, and on the end of that cord was a male sindur who kept his gaze on the ground. He didn’t make a sound. The rope was fastened around his furry neck. Seeing this sindur whose fur was grey, just like hers, was like looking through a dark lens at a helpless friend. When the sindur passed her, he briefly glanced in her direction. Their eyes didn’t meet, but Misti was sure he’d seen her. The lizardman hadn’t. The sindur said nothing and kept walking, his head down, his hands bound.

More and more lizardmen came out of their homes, some of them with a sindur on a leash, most of them alone. Misti had to bury her distress and keep going. She hurried, constantly switching between shadow and sun, hiding in small hollows between houses. All of them appeared to be going in one direction. At this hour of the day, it could be the market. Misti decided to follow the crowd.

But it stopped a few feet ahead. Sithrax and sindurs gathered in a line. Misti glanced ahead from her hiding spot and saw some sort of gate beyond the crowd. She spotted four guards in brown armor checking each passerby. Actually, they weren’t checking the sithrax or sindurs with them. They were checking the humans. And that’s when Misti realized there were also humans here.

Misti got closer. The crowd was loud and disorganized, but she could catch some words from humans speaking Common. She just needed to hear one word among the cacophony that would confirm her suspicions.

Market.

More than one person mentioned it—she was headed in the right direction.

Now, she had to pass the gate and these guards. Misti scanned the crowd quickly, looking for a way to sneak in undetected. She spotted a group of men dragging a cart full of jars. Those were probably headed to the market to sell their goods. Misti took her chance.

While the guards were busy checking on the next people in line, she ran towards the cart. She ran as fast as she could, slipping past and between lizardmen who had no idea she was there. Her size was, for once, her special trick. Once she reached the cart, she crouched and slid underneath it, then she latched onto the bottom. The cart was just high enough that she could hang there with her backpack without touching the ground. She just had to hang while she made it past the gate. After that, she’d let go and swing between corners and hollows again. Once the cart was on the move, Misti clenched her jaw, pressed her eyes shut, and mustered all her might to stay hanging.

Misti had reached the market, a vast sea of wooden stands with colorful silk blankets for shade. Most of the merchants here were humans or elven. Some were even sindurs. The only sithrax here were the visitors. Everything one could possibly imagine was sold here. Weapons, potions, pottery, spices, jewelry. Misti had never expected all treasures of Terra to find their way here, in the Kotma Ata market. What could sithrax possibly have to gain from human goods? With their heavy armor and big weapons, they could probably care less about a lovely vase.

The girl-cat noticed the tokens around each merchant’s neck, exposed, like they were forced to wear it. Those must be the tokens Marie Trogon had mentioned. Those must have been what the sithrax guards were checking at the gate. Misti hid under a table while more sithrax passed by her. She’d already made it halfway through the market, but it was getting terribly hot. She was going to suffocate soon if she didn’t find the Lion’s Heart or at least take off her cloak.

After the sithrax were gone, Misti snuck out of her hiding spot. She was about to take a turn when something latched on to her backpack. She was instantly stopped and almost tipped over. She didn’t dare to turn around, afraid of what she might find.

A deep voice addressed her in the language she barely understood. It was low and gravelly. Misti finally looked over her shoulder and saw the smiling face of a man, a sindur man, with a striped red coat.

He repeated his words, now with a look of wonder. He’d stopped smiling. Now, his eyes were urgent and scared. He looked around, scanned the area. While he was distracted, Misti reclaimed her backpack. When his attention returned to her, she made a run for it. The man, panicked, tried to latch on to her again but failed. As she ran, he kept on repeating one single word.

Jasir! Jasir! Jasir!

It was Sindawr for, “Hide!”

Misti zigzagged between stands until she reached the end of the market. She quickly checked the street adjacent to the stands, she had to find the Lion’s Heart fast. She couldn’t read the street signs, billboards, or the names of shops around her. All houses here looked the same as the previous dwellings but bigger and more decorated, except... Right there, at the end of the street, was a large house of clay with multiple sections and domes, and the entrance was a lion’s maw. The door was made of wooden shards painted to resemble bloody teeth.

That must be the Lion’s Heart. One more sprint, and she’d be there. Her paws and feet were wet from the sweat, she had to hurry. She almost reached the tavern when a large sithrax in brown plate armor stepped in her way. She almost ran into him.

He said nothing. He simply stared her down, silent.

More joined him shortly after, probably his friends, and Misti was petrified. Just them staring at her this way made her eyes water. Panic rose. That was it. That was the end of her mission, of her life. She’d failed. She’d get captured now and eaten by these three lizardmen.

The largest one leaned forward, but he couldn’t even come to her size because she was so small. Now, Misti could see the slitted snake eyes the color of dying embers. His jaw moved slowly. He was about to speak when a blue shadow stepped in between Misti and the lizardman.

“Whoa, whoa, no need to get aggressive, Gursky,” the shadow said. It was a human man.

The sithrax—Gursky?—grunted. “Viiiiirgyle...” he uttered with a snort. His voice could shatter Misti’s bones, given enough volume.

The man wore a dark blue jacket, brown linen pants, and knee-high leather boots. He stood in front of Misti like he was protecting her. “How many times do I have to tell you, Gursky, it’s Viiiiirgil, not Viiiiirgyle.”

“And how many times do I have to tell you it’s Gursk, not Gursky?” The sithrax pointed at the girl-cat, who trembled in fear. “Doo vah ee mi ssa.”

“I know, I know, Oo ah ee tu ssa, but you know where doo vah?” Virgil—if Misti had understood his name correctly—was actually taunting this lizardman. His tone was almost mocking. Wasn’t he afraid?

Gursky grunted in response. “Lion’s Heart,” he grumbled.

Virgil clapped in his hands. “Bravo, my friend. And I bet the Reaper would be appalled to hear about a scuffle in front of his bar. Especially if that scuffle involves your men.”

Gursky grunted again. Perhaps grunts were words in his language.

“This is the Outcast, my friend. I suggest you leave now, for everyone’s sake,” Virgil finished.

The sithrax had the most disapproving look of all, but he snorted and turned around. He returned towards the market, his two friends following him.

“Oh, and, Gursky!” Virgil called. He waited for the lizardman to turn around again. “I’ll buy you a beer for your cooperation, okay?” Gursky said nothing. Virgil made a thumbs-up in the air. “Great, that’s settled!” Then he laughed and turned to Misti.

She could see his face now. Virgil had light brown hair and a pale complexion. His eyes were dark blue, like his long jacket, and he wore a white linen shirt and a silver chain around his neck. Hooked to his leather belt on each side were two small scabbards.

He held out a hand. “The name’s Virgil.” Misti didn’t know what was expected of her, so she simply made the same movement. Virgil chuckled instantly. “Long way from home, are you?”

“Y-yes,” Misti said. Her voice was still crass from the fear. She cleared her throat. “I’m Misti. Thank you...for protecting me.”

“No need for thanks, Miss. It’s the least I could do.”

Virgil had just saved her fur. Misti could have sworn this would have been her end hadn’t he been there. She thanked him again. Now, she was one step ahead.