glinted. “If anyone should ask who designed your clothes—feel free to give them my name.”
“I will. Thanks.” I folded my new outfit and stuffed it into my backpack. Then Nutty hugged me goodbye.
The warmth from her body clung to me as I climbed down the ladder. It lasted until the first cold sneer from Leif drove it away.
He waited for me on the jungle floor. Leif had changed into traveling clothes that consisted of a tan cotton tunic, dark brown pants and boots. He carried a large leather pack on his back and a machete hung from his thick belt.
“Keep up or be left behind,” he said to the air above my head. Turning his broad back to me, he took off at a brisk clip.
I knew I would soon tire of looking at his back, but, for now, the pace he set was a welcome chance to stretch my legs.
Without another word uttered between us, we traveled on a narrow path through the jungle. Sweat soon soaked my shirt, and I found myself glancing up in search of necklace snakes. Esau had also mentioned tree leopards. I decided I would search Esau’s field guide for a picture of the predators when I had some time.
Various birds sang and whistled and animal cries echoed through the leafy canopy. I wanted to know the names of these creatures, but I guessed Leif would ignore my questions.
He stopped once, taking a machete from his belt. Without thought, I grabbed my bow. Snorting in derision, he merely hacked at a small sapling.
“Strangler fig,” he huffed over his shoulder.
I made no reply. Should I be honored that he had finally chosen to talk to me?
Leif didn’t wait for a response. “A parasite. The strangler fig uses another tree to reach the sunlight. Once there it grows bigger, eventually strangling and killing its host.” He pulled the fig’s branches away from the tree. “A process I’m sure you’re very familiar with.” He tossed the plant onto the ground and marched on.
Not a lesson on jungle life, but a jab at me. I contemplated tripping him with my bow. It would be a petty, mean-spirited thing to do. Tempting, but I threaded my staff into its holder on my pack instead.
We arrived at the Illiais Market just as the sun began to set. The collection of bamboo structures had thatched roofs and bamboo shades for walls. Some of the “walls” had been rolled up to allow customers to browse and the light breeze to cool.
Leif and I had been walking downhill, and the trail ended at the market, which stood in a clearing at the edge of the jungle. The mammoth trees of the tropical forest no longer dominated the landscape. Beyond the clearing, I could see woodland that looked similar to the Snake Forest in Ixia.
“We’ll camp here tonight and leave at first light,” Leif said before heading toward one of the stands.
I had thought that with the setting of the sun, the market would close. Instead, a vast array of torches was lit, and business continued unabated. The sounds of bartering could be heard above the general buzz of a hundred or so customers talking, calling to children and hurrying from stand to stand carrying packages.
Some of the shoppers wore the familiar dress of the Zaltanas, but I also saw a number wearing green leggings and tunics that were the dress of the forest dwelling Cowan Clan. When we had traveled from Ixia, Irys had taught me to recognize the different clans by their clothing.
I also spotted a few women wearing the traditional shimmering silk pants, short beaded tops, and sheer veils of the Jewelrose Clan. The Jewelrose men even sported beads and jewels on their long tunics that hung down to the knees of their pants. When Irys had explained her clan’s customs to me, I couldn’t imagine Irys wearing anything but the simple linen shirt, pants and wide belt that she always donned.
I wandered through the market, marveling at the variety of goods available for sale. Practical items like food and clothing sat side by side with jewelry and handcrafts. A pine scent from the torches dominated, but it didn’t take long for me to discern the smell of roasting meat. I followed the mouthwatering aroma to a fire pit. A tall man covered with sweat spun the meat that sizzled in the flames. His white apron was streaked with soot. I bought some hot beef from him to eat right away and some smoked jerky for later.
Trying to ignore the pointed stares of the other shoppers, I searched the market for Fern’s stand, vowing to change into Nutty’s clothes as soon as I found some privacy. Soon a table piled high with bolts of cloth attracted my attention. As I looked through the prints, a small dark woman with large eyes peeked out from behind the collection.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Are you Fern?”
Her eyes widened in alarm as she nodded.
“Nutty Zaltana sent me. Do you have any solid colors?”
From underneath the table, Fern pulled bolts of plain cloth and added them to the table. Together we matched up colors and patterns for three outfits.
“Are you sure you don’t want this Illiais print?” Fern held up a loud pink-and-yellow flowered pattern. “Solid colors are usually worn by the Zaltana men. This print is very popular with the girls.”
I shook my head. Just as I began to pay her for the cloth, I spotted a material that matched the colors of the forest. “Some of this, too,” I said, pointing to the green pattern. When we had settled up, I asked her to send the fabric to Nutty, but I found room for the forest print in my pack.
“Who should I say is sending it?” Fern asked; her quill poised above the parchment.
“Her cousin, Yelena.”
The quill froze in midair. “Oh, my,” she said. “The lost Zaltana child?”
I gave her a weary half smile. “Not lost, nor a child any longer.”
Strolling past a few more stands, I stopped at a table displaying statues of jungle creatures. They were constructed of small multicolored stones glued together. I selected a black-and-white valmur statue and bought it for Valek. Not quite sure how I would send it to him, I wrapped the gift in my new green fabric.
Campfires began to blaze behind the market. Commerce slowed as the shop owners rolled the bamboo shades down, closing their stands. Customers either headed into the surrounding forest or toward one of the camps. I spotted Leif seated next to one of the fires. He held a bowl in his lap while he talked to the three young Zaltana men seated near him. Through the shimmering air above the fire, I saw him smile and laugh. His whole face transformed in that instant. Scowl lines smoothed. Cheeks lifted, erasing the impact of his serious face and softening his square jaw. He looked ten years younger.
Remembering that Esau had said Leif had been eight when I was kidnapped, I realized now that my brother was only two years older than me. He was twenty-two instead of my original guess of thirty.
Without thought, I moved to join him. In a heartbeat, the merriment dropped from his face. He scowled with such fierceness that I stopped in my tracks. Where was I to sleep that night?
Someone touched my shoulder. I spun.
“You’re welcome to stay at my fire,” Fern said. She pointed to a small blaze behind her stand.
“Are you sure? I
