Notes: On we go! Let's get ready to meet some more of our merry (and not so merry) villagers :)

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Chapter Three, Part One

***

Chapter Three, Part One

Meddling in the Marketplace

Hiram woke up to the uncomfortable sensation of his stomachtrying to eat itself. He sighed and rubbed his cheek against the smooth, warmbedding, weighing whether or not it was worth getting up before the sun hadeven bothered to rise just to find food. He tried rolling over, a tacticalmistake, because then his bladder was able to pass on its complaints as welland…

“Fine.” He might as well get up, then. Hiram slid out ofbed, took in the wrinkled state of his clothes, and almost banished themaltogether before he remembered he didn’t do that anymore. Instead he took thetime to open his carefully packed bags of clothes and store them in thewardrobe, and by the time that was done he practically had to run to getto the corner of the backyard for a proper piss.

Too bad I don’t have a compost pile yet. Or abathroom—suspiciously missing from the little tour Mistress Tate had given him.There was no standing outhouse, but a little wander showed him a particularlyverdant patch of yard in a suspiciously square shape. So—no outhouse any more.

At least they filled the hole in. Well, if there hadever been a more practical use for his traveling portal, he couldn’t think ofit. Hiram usually used it for getting rid of trash, and occasionally assassins,but a little creative carpentry and he’d have a very nice toilet that let out avery high distance over a very hot volcano. It was perfect.

Not for the first time, he wondered whether he should havebrought so many of his most magical belongings with him. It was one thing tohave a fantastic treasure trove when you were a wizard, quite another when youwere trying to keep a low profile as an herbalist.

But, Hiram reasoned, that was what the bag of holding wasfor. No one else could get into it without losing a limb, and that way hedidn’t leave Andurion a windfall that would make him even more powerful. He’dalready given Misha his cloak of invisibility, which would serve her well, andleft the other pieces of Phlox’s reliquary to his former students. He’d takencare of the people who needed it, and left those who didn’t deserve care noworse off than they already were.

That, Hiram thought, was pretty fucking generous of him allthings considered.

The well was another overlooked piece of the property. Thestone wall at the top of it was partially tumbled down, and the crank, rope,and bucket were all missing, but a little investigation—aka, accidentallyknocking a rock into it—proved there was still water in it. He just needed to getit.

Luckily, Hiram traveled with a bucket. Several buckets, infact, but this one had a sturdy metal handle, and before long he was dipping itdown into the well and, eventually hauling up perhaps a gallon of water. Thewater was clear, and at first taste clean, but he’d boil it anyhow just to besafe.

While the kettle was warming on the top of the ironmonstrosity in the kitchen, Hiram began to plot out his garden. He walked thelength of it, measuring carefully, then began to map it out in his mind. Cookingherbs here…medicinal herbs here…magical herbs here…plants purely for aestheticsover here…

Chickens would be nice, he decided as he considered theyard. He’d have to put up some anti-fox and hawk sigils, but that was…

“Not how they do things in Lollop,” he reminded himself. Hecould make them invisible, of course, but that would be cheating. “I’ll askMistress Tate,” he decided, then headed inside as the kettle began to scream tomake himself a cup of tea.

He checked his travel stores and found some of the darkbrown bread he’d bought two days ago, still decently fresh, as well as someherbed butter and ham that was so salty it almost brought tears to his eyes,but Hiram was weak for food that made him work for it.

The sun was still filtering through the trees as he set off,turning the road into a patchwork quilt of dappled light that met the risingmist in an enchanting way. Even if Hiram had been inclined toward conversation,Phlox was quiescent in his opal, rare enough that he would leave him that way. Hehad a bag over his shoulder for essentials, money in the pouch beneath his beltfor commissions, and a day of exploration ahead. Hiram was in a good mood…onethat gradually faded in the wake of the shouting he heard coming from up ahead.

The next house down the little lane—almost a mile distant,so not exactly a neighbor but the closest thing he had to it—was half againlarger than his, and the heavy cart in front of it was half-full of cagedrabbits of all shades and morphs. In and of itself, it wasn’t anythingremarkable, but the man standing beside it shouting abuse at the children whowere rushing to fill it was. A silent woman with gray-streaked hair stood onthe porch, a child no older than five clutching her legs with his face tuckedagainst her skirts. She looked at the scene blankly, like her body was therebut her mind had gone elsewhere.

Her children weren’t so fortunate.

“You can’t stack them on top of each other like that,dunce!” The man swung a heavy hand into the back of one of the older boy’sheads. “You want ‘em to get to market covered in piss? How do we sell a rabbitlike that, eh? Fix it!”

“We can’t load as many as you want to sell if we don’tstack, Da,” the next-oldest person present, a girl—no, young woman—snapped.

The man stared at her grimly. “You giving me lip, Letty?”

She did, in fact, push out her lip pugnaciously beforereplying, “No, Da, but—”

“You think you’re pretty big now you’ve turned sixteen,hmm?”

“No, Da, but—”

He was beside her in a second, shoving her so hard that shealmost fell down. “If we’re late to market and I can’t get enough coneys soldto put food on the table this week, you’re the one whose going without, youhear me, girl? Now help your brothers pack the damn cart!”

Hiram had slowed down as he got close, and came to acomplete halt when he saw the man push his daughter. It was the sort of casual,everyday cruelty he had witnessed frequently growing up, but for some reason hehadn’t expected to see it in Lollop—at least, not so quickly.

The man noticed him and turned with a glare. “What’re youlooking at, eh?”

“Nothing of note,” Hiram replied airily. “I simply couldn’thelp overhearing and was a bit concerned that everything was well, that’s all.”

The man spit to the side, his hands clenching. “Well nowyou’ve seen that all is indeed well, sir,” he said with false obsequiousness,going so far as to take a mocking bow. “You can get your fine self on your wayand leave us poor folk be. Letty!”

The girl, who’d been staring wide-eyed at Hiram, jumped. “Yes,Da?”

“Get on with it!” She got back to work, not without anotherglance at Hiram, but he already knew there was no step he could take here. Notyet. He smiled at her and tipped his wide-brimmed leather hat, then continuedon down the road.

Another few miles and he was back in Lollop proper. Therewas Fuzzle Pinkie’s Drinkies, now wearing a sign that said The YewBrew with what almost seemed like an air of relief. There was the smithy,there the tannery, there the court of law—interesting, one wondered what sortof cases came before such a rural judge—and just beyond it all, in a widecobblestone circle, were dozens of stalls that hadn’t been there yesterday.Lollop’s market.

Hiram rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Unpackingyesterday had ignited something inside of him that he hadn’t felt in a longtime—an urge to feather his nest. He had a home now, but living theresurrounded by nothing but the remnants of his former life felt like living in amemory. He needed new things, things that could belong solely to Hiram Emblic,not his former self. Now, to find his guide…

She found him first, actually, at a stall on the outskirtsof the market that was handing out cups of something hot and milky. “Mr.Emblic,” Mistress Tate called out before he could get lost in the crowd. Shelooked him up and down as he came to join her. “Heavens, it’s just a market,”she said mildly as she handed over one of the ceramic cups. “There’s no need todress so finely for it.”

Hiram looked down at himself. He was wearing dark brownleather breeches, a white shirt, a leather vest that laced in the front, and asingle-sleeve linen cape that was the lightest covering he owned. “What aboutthis is so fine?”

“Not many can afford to use leather for clothes beyondaprons and shoes,” she said as she sipped at her drink. “But I suppose thingsare different where you’re from.”

“Rather,” Hiram said. Clothes. I need new clothes.

“It will make you even more an object of interest than youalready are,” she continued, then smiled. “But you’ll give everyone a goodstory out of it, and they’ll get used to you soon enough. Do try your tea,” sheadded.

Hiram took a sip, and almost startled at the sweet, spicytaste of it. It was thick on the tongue, honey and black pepper and cardamom,and a hint of… “Vanilla?”

“Just a touch,” Mistress Tate said. “It’s hard to get, butit adds so nicely to the flavor, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” He drank more deeply, making sure not to get themilky concoction in his moustache, before handing the empty cup back. “It’squite good, thank you,” he said to the gnome manning the cart. “What do I oweyou?”

“I’ve already paid,” Mistress Tate said, setting her own cupback down. “Thank you, Gerry.”

“Aye, Mistress!” the young gnome piped.

Mistress Tate waited expectantly, and Hiram held out his armfor her to take. “Shall we, milady?”

“Let’s.”