ellinor
Explorer
2x05
A man was shouting at Arden in the marketplace. At first, she ignored him. A lot of people were shouting in the marketplace; there was no reason to think that this man was shouting at her.
"You! Pretty lady! Red lady!"
With a sinking feeling, Arden glanced around to confirm that she was the only red-haired woman in the vicinity. She was.
"Pretty lady! You want bagel? Please, over here, over here!"
"No, thank you," she said, still walking.
"Yes yes yes! Lady! Good bagel for you! Come and see, now!"
As his voice briefly modulated from cajoling to commanding, Arden obeyed automatically, turning to face him before she could stop herself. He was a dwarf standing in a stall full of miscellaneous junk. He was holding some rocks.
"Yes, yes, good bagel, you like, yes? Please, come and see, come and see."
Arden stayed where she was, frowning at the rocks, seeing nothing special. In the blessed names of all the gods," she thought, "what is 'bagel'?
"I don't understand," she said.
"Come and see. Make good bagel for you. Special price."
Arden squinted. The dwarf's beard seemed to be fake. Oh, gods, this is trouble. Her goal was to buy exactly what the Justicar wanted, no more, no less; her goal was to make them all accept that she was worthy of the Blessed Daughter's trust. She needed their trust. She didn't need a stranger in a ridiculous disguise calling attention to her and speaking in riddles.
Still, she stepped a little closer so that they could speak without shouting. "I don't understand," she repeated. "Explain to me in plain Common."
"Pretty lady want make bagel?"
Right. Maybe you're selling some kind of useful contraband that you can't advertise openly. And maybe you want to force me to 'make bagel' for you until my death day in your underworld slave-camp bagel-making smithy. Whatever it is, there's no way you're legal.
"I'm leaving," she said.
"No, no, Red! Pretty lady! Bagel! Much much bagel!"
She kept walking. The encounter bothered her because she didn't understand it. As she bargained for plain cloaks and dutifully poked at mule poop, she wondered about the disguised dwarf. She didn't regret moving on, exactly, but she would have liked to possess the autonomy and authority to find out his business. As she walked back toward the Temple of the Givers with the mule, a few leftover gold pieces jingling in the pouch to help prove to the Justicar that she had kept nothing for herself, she realized wryly: I'm going to be wondering what 'bagel' means for the rest of my life.
A man was shouting at Arden in the marketplace. At first, she ignored him. A lot of people were shouting in the marketplace; there was no reason to think that this man was shouting at her.
"You! Pretty lady! Red lady!"
With a sinking feeling, Arden glanced around to confirm that she was the only red-haired woman in the vicinity. She was.
"Pretty lady! You want bagel? Please, over here, over here!"
"No, thank you," she said, still walking.
"Yes yes yes! Lady! Good bagel for you! Come and see, now!"
As his voice briefly modulated from cajoling to commanding, Arden obeyed automatically, turning to face him before she could stop herself. He was a dwarf standing in a stall full of miscellaneous junk. He was holding some rocks.
"Yes, yes, good bagel, you like, yes? Please, come and see, come and see."
Arden stayed where she was, frowning at the rocks, seeing nothing special. In the blessed names of all the gods," she thought, "what is 'bagel'?
"I don't understand," she said.
"Come and see. Make good bagel for you. Special price."
Arden squinted. The dwarf's beard seemed to be fake. Oh, gods, this is trouble. Her goal was to buy exactly what the Justicar wanted, no more, no less; her goal was to make them all accept that she was worthy of the Blessed Daughter's trust. She needed their trust. She didn't need a stranger in a ridiculous disguise calling attention to her and speaking in riddles.
Still, she stepped a little closer so that they could speak without shouting. "I don't understand," she repeated. "Explain to me in plain Common."
"Pretty lady want make bagel?"
Right. Maybe you're selling some kind of useful contraband that you can't advertise openly. And maybe you want to force me to 'make bagel' for you until my death day in your underworld slave-camp bagel-making smithy. Whatever it is, there's no way you're legal.
"I'm leaving," she said.
"No, no, Red! Pretty lady! Bagel! Much much bagel!"
She kept walking. The encounter bothered her because she didn't understand it. As she bargained for plain cloaks and dutifully poked at mule poop, she wondered about the disguised dwarf. She didn't regret moving on, exactly, but she would have liked to possess the autonomy and authority to find out his business. As she walked back toward the Temple of the Givers with the mule, a few leftover gold pieces jingling in the pouch to help prove to the Justicar that she had kept nothing for herself, she realized wryly: I'm going to be wondering what 'bagel' means for the rest of my life.