At the Rose Pavilion in the Emerald Silk District, the southern city-state Žanutian’ur.
Coughing startled Laž’ar awake. He sat up and looked at his mother in the bed. Hurriedly he got a ceramic cup and poured water into it, realising it was already cold. He poured it back into the pot before heating it over the small stove. Before it boiled, he poured it into the cup again.
“Mother, here,” he said softly, but the painful coughing was overpowering his soft voice.
He had no choice but to put the cup to the side and make his mother sit up, before he gently put the cup in her hands. Feeling the heat, she shakily lifted the cup. As he was worried she would spill it, he held his hands over hers, lending her his support.
“Thank you, Laž’ar.” Her voice was hoarse and sounded a little weak, like all her strength had been drained from the cough.
He shook his head with a smile. “Mother mustn’t thank me for this. How many times have you not taken care of me? Let me repay you with these simple acts.”
His mother forced a smile, but it wasn’t particularly convincing.
“Should I call for a healer?” he asked. “If you’re worried about money…”
“No need. It’s just a small cold.”
Laž’ar kept smiling, as if he truly believed his mother’s words, but how could this just be something small? This he couldn’t understand.
He took the cup away from her. “If mother says so, then surely you are right. But I will go get medicine in the morning. Mother can’t stay sick for too long, or else I will have to sing.”
“You cannot!”
Raising her voice must have greatly pleased whatever evil residing in her chest, because his mother began coughing again, each sounding even worse than the last.
He patted her back, not knowing what else to do. “This is why mother has to get better.”
The coughs soon subsided and silence fell. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable sort, yet it couldn’t be considered uncomfortable either. It merely seemed to extend itself further to longer it stretched.
After some time Laž’ar helped his mother lay down again. He sat on the edge of the bed, catching his blanket on the floor between his feet, pulling it toward himself and stealthily placed it over his mother while pretending to pull her own blanket up for her.
“You can sleep some more, mother. I’ll so the same once you’ve fallen asleep.”
Although she didn’t look please, she didn’t tell him to sleep, so he hummed soothingly until her breathes were slow and even. He remain seated for some time, resting his eyes upon his mother’s pale countenance. He was about to stand up, when he heard his mother speak.
“If something happens to me, you should go to the Capital.”
He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t, but knowing his mother was surely exhausted and surely pretended to be stronger than she truly felt, he just sank back down onto the bed and replied with no protests this time. “If it eases mother’s many worries, then I will naturally go to the Imperial Capital, would misfortune strike me or Denaštür harm my heart.”
“Good child. You have to go to the Imperial City, is that understood?”
“I understand.”
He felt his mother take his hand and hold it tightly, almost at the point of painful. He stayed still until she fell asleep again and her grip relaxed. Now that she was indeed asleep, he got up and took the pot, and went to the kitchen to prepare for something for his mother to eat.
“How is she?”
He turned around to see the proprietress. She wore an expensive silk robe tied with a belt hidden in whatever space still existed between her large bosom and full belly. Although the woman was not unpleasing to the eyes, the robe that nearly looked like it shone on its own couldn’t have found a less suitable owner.
“My mother remains unwell, madam.”
“Then you know what you must do.”
Laž’ar lowered his head. As if resigned to some unfortunate fact, the proprietress sighed.
“I can’t get you the medicine otherwise, Masellaž. It’s expensive.”
“Although I am but a child of a lowly woman with nothing but a questionable reputations to her name, this much I understand. Madame knows what I can do best, so I will sing or dance in any way madam wishes, as long as you give me the medicine for my mother.”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with the reply, then took the pot off his hands.
They walked to the kitchen together. She didn’t bother to help as he began getting ingredients, nor did she call for the cook to do so either. Before long she got tired and sat down, the silk robe looking even worse off than before.
Seeing this, Laž’ar heated some wine and offered it to her, pretending he was unaware of the disastrous combination.
Holding a knife, he carefully, slowly diced vegetables and dried meat, chopped herbs and crushed seeds and nuts, which he then mixed with cleaned grains to boil together for his mother.
The water splashing slightly, the rhythmical chopping against wood, the babble of water rising to a boil were the only things that could be heard for a long while.
Then…
“Are you aware your mother’s background? Her heritage?”
…the woman suddenly spoke.
Laž’ar paused, then stirred the boiling food. “I do not.”
“You know, everyone here are of noble birth. They shamed their families so much they couldn’t stay, but with nowhere else to go they sought out this place.”
“I see.”
“Your mother, too, is a noble. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let her or you stay.”
“I understand.”
“But if something were to happen…”
“I know. I have to be able to provide for myself.”
“As long as you understand, Laž’ar.”
He put down the knife and looked at the proprietress. “What would you do if I couldn’t or hid that I can’t?”
“What does that mean? Are you telling me you can’t sing? If not, recite poems.”
“I see.”
“Have you caught your mother’s illness?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Does your throat hurt, then?”
Laž’ar smiled. “I only asked out of curiosity. Mother will be well, so why would I worry?”
The women laughed. “You silly children will always believe nothing bad will happen to you.” She shook her head and stood up, leaving him alone.
Laž’ar put his hand towards his throat for a moment before he placed the ingredients to boil in some water. He sighed, thinking that he might need to find a different way to get the medication.
A thought began forming in his head.
A few hours later, he snuck out, telling his mother he was getting her some medicine. He went to a part of the town he had never been to before, feeling out of place, to some degree, yet noticing that how he dressed didn’t look much different. It was a little humbler, with less jewellery, yet, he worse robes that were similar with similar details.
He had previously noted that the merchants seldom wore the same clothing, but they never wondered if he was from Emerald Silk District either, nor from any poor place. Only know he understood why.
Despite feeling quite lost, he didn’t ask for directions, but instead found his way to a bookshop after some amount of going in and out of lanes and alleys. once he found one, he breathed in relief. He entered as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Little Lord, what can I help you with?”
“Does the shopkeeper have a copy of the registry of those living here?”
“In this district?”
“Yes.”
The shopkeeper laughed and Laž’ar expected to receive a no.
“Of course, but it’s unusual for a merchant to send such a well-dressed little son. You nearly had me fooled.”
Laž’ar smiled. “Ah, so shopkeeper didn’t get fooled. Father was wrong then, but I told him I would get exposed right away. See how I was right?”
The shopkeeper tsk-tsked and handed Laž’ar a scroll. “To look like one of the little lords from these parts the little lord need to wear more jewellery. May I suggest you go to the jewellerist down the street, in the fifth to the right? He’ll know what the little lords wear these days.”
Laž’ar put his hands together and bowed slightly. “Shopkeeper has my deepest gratitude. I only came to buy a list, yet he sells me advice too.”
“We merchants gotta keep together, little lord.” The shopekeeper showed with his hands what he wanted for the scroll.
“Of course. I’ll let father know.” Laž’ar grinned as he paid. “I’ll come by some other day.”
“See you around, little lord.”
Laž’ar stepped outside and opened the scroll, quickly making sure that it was indeed what he asked for, knowing full well the shopkeeper could have tried to fool him, keeping him distracted by talking.
Seeing as it was correct, he checked how much was in his money pouch, considering what the jewellery may cost. He did know better than go to see whoever this person referred him to. He had thanks to his life in the Emerald Silk district learnt not to take references like this one to heart.
If he had done so, how many times wouldn’t he have got ripped off.
No, it was likely that this shopkeeper sent him somewhere to profit while causing him more trouble than it was worth.
However,, perhaps the shopkeeper has a point in that he needed to wear at least something else to seem a little more like one of those living in the area.
He set out to find a shop somewhere which had patrons that looked to be about right.