Wanted

Setting: Yrn, Eodea
Genre: Fantasy
Summary: Vian needs to leave her home country, before something stops her.
Notes/warnings: none
Words: 485

Vian regretted not coming to the docks earlier when she saw that the crowds were even denser than usual. The cause seemed to be a nearby bulletin board, which drew a lot of attention. Feeling that not showing interest would make her stand out, and besides actually being curious, she waded into the fray, clutching her fine shawl to her. It should look like she merely found the morning too cool for her tastes, but gave her a way to cover up the fresh scar on her left forearm.

Her stomach dropped when she saw the markings on the poster that drew all the attention: two black bars, one blue. Dangerous criminal, magic-user. The description fit her, too, though if she was lucky the detail would help; she had cut her hair from long braids to next to nothing and applied makeup to make her eyes appear more slanted, after rubbing soot in the slight wrinkles around her eyes to make them look deeper, and herself older. Just as long as nobody noticed the scar, or questioned why she kept just that spot of her body covered.

Copying some of the mutterings from the crowd, along the lines of “can’t feel save in your own neighbourhood”, she snaked out of the throng and strode towards the ship that had promised her passage off the island. She spotted a trio of cenuicane, marked by their black sashes, on the next dock, boarding a ship. There were not many of these lawkeeper, so chances were this was the only team in this area. Her ship would leave soon, they would check every ship at the docks… she would slip through their net. Just don’t show how scared you are.

The rope serving as handrail for the gangplank towards her ship slid along smoothly under her palm. A weight lifted off her shoulders when she stepped on deck. She would greet the captain or bosun and—

There was the captain. Talking to a man in the blue of mages, with the black sash of the cenuicane. Vian was stunned, frozen, as he and the captain turned to look at her.

“Vian Gwankul. You are wanted on the charge of murder. Will you come with us without resisting or further attempts to flee?”

She could not match his formal tones. She wanted to rake her hand through hair that wasn’t there any more. With a mere nod to answer the question, she cried, “They attacked me. I panicked, but they attacked me. I thought they would kill me. But no-one was there.”

The cenuicane approached her. “We will do all we can to find out what really happened. We have to. You know that.”

Eyes closed and head lowered, Vian tried to hold on to dignity enough to not break out in tears. “I won’t run. I won’t fight.” Quietly she added, “I never wanted to fight.”