Claus's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

By midday, the road past the Glowing Snail was thick with dust and hoofbeats. Claus walked to the sign-up tent he had raised at the edge of the field. The big striped canvas snapped in the wind. Inside, two Neo-Caps waited with ink pots, and the glowing vendor scroll hovered above the table. Claus smoothed his coat and opened Ether and Muck. Only the truest would pass today. The first arrivals were easy refusals. A spice peddler with no goods. A trinket seller who flinched when Claus asked his trade route. Claus shook his head once, and the Neo-Caps guided each away. He would not fill his bazaar with soft hands. Not after losing half his list to whoever had whispered in their ears. Then the canvas darkened. A wide shadow crossed the entry. A tamer ducked under the flap, and behind him padded a beast on six limbs. Yellow fur. Gray plated legs. A black hourglass mark along its ribs. The Neo-Caps froze. The beast bared a long tusk and waited at its master's heel. Claus felt his pulse settle into the calm he knew well. "Name and trade," Claus said. The tamer set a clawed token on the table. He spoke of cages built in three kingdoms, of monsters sold to kings. The beast huffed. Claus studied the man's eyes for the same vague excuses he had heard from the cowards. He found none. Only hunger for a stage. Claus pressed his thumb to the scroll. A new line bloomed in red and lavender script. He signed four more that afternoon: a swamp hunter pair, a desert mystic with a basket of charms, a friar with sealed jars, a fae brewer with a crate that hummed. Each one looked the Sting Claw jar in the eye on the way in and did not turn back. By dusk the scroll held eight names. Claus closed Ether and Muck and watched the lanterns lift along the tent ropes. Half a list, but a list of the brave. He wrote one final line for the night. The bazaar has its vendors. Then he looked toward the bend in the road, where a hooded shape had been watching since noon, and did not move.