Vignette: A Contradiction In Terms
Later that night with the handcart offloaded and everything safely stowed aboard, Bailey set about balancing marks against sales for the day. A full stock check would only be carried out the following day when Arlon would have possession of the stand to sell his range of perfumed candles.
It was only when she started to pick out all monogrammed items and pack them into a separate box for Murron to go through; that she realized something was amiss.
Going through the engraved pieces stored in a separate division of the chest, her brows crinkled together. She was sure there’d been another silver pendant with the initial ‘M’ engraved upon its back. Had she sold it to Murron? Fingers pressed against tired eyes as she searched her memory. No, she was quite sure she hadn’t even shown that one to the blonde being as how it hadn’t held a pearl to it.
A sigh passed from her lips as she reached for the stack of certificates drawn up by Candlario and started going through them one at a time, laying each corresponding piece of jewellery together with its document. The conclusion of the simple task displayed cold conclusion. There was a piece missing.
But when? How? She never left the jewellery unattended. Not even when she closed up the stand for lunch. The chest would go with her, tucked under one arm and was always stored under her bunk at night. Except for that one time today when…
Bailey’s jaw tightened, a sickened feeling crawling into her stomach. Except for when she’d left the weyrling and the redhead alone while she saw to that gaggle of customers. Brows drew together in a heavy frown. Surely the girl wouldn’t be so stupid as to lift something as easily identifiable as the pendant? What was it the girl had said her name was again? Marie, Marlise? Something like that. No matter, she knew where she lived - at the back of the tackle shop her parents ran here at the docks.
Anger coiled itself around the brunette as she threw a light shawl about her shoulders and stalked down the gangplank, the last of Rukbat’s rays stroking the sky. Little brat! She’d just stolen from entirely the wrong person, a point she intended to drive home in the harshest possible manner. The deep irony of the situation escaped Bailey as she marched up round the back of the tackle shop and banged on the door.
Several hours later with the young redhead in tears, her whole room having been turned upside down by outraged parents, Bailey slunk out of the small attached cottage amidst many repeated apologies and the promise of a free dress of the girl’s choosing by way of compensation for the false accusation.
Sluggish steps carried the brunette off the docks and out onto the darkened sands of the beach. If not the girl, then who could it have been? The only other person who’d been afforded a brief chance at the jewellery was…
A’nas. Bailey’s heart sank. Why would he do something like that to her, to Rio? He was a dragonrider now, supposedly a symbol of honour and glory as far as the harper tales painted it.
Steps came to rest at a large log and the woman sank down onto it, digging her toes into the black sands, saddened by the realization of who the offending party was. Fearing the lad torn limb from limb by the big man she determined not to tell Candlario. Not until she’d spoken with the teen and tried to find out why he’d done it. Did he need the marks he hoped to gain from selling it? Was he just a pawn trapped in someone else’s game?
Her head starting to ache with the beginnings of a headache, the woman pushed to her feet again and headed back to her boat. Tomorrow she’d try to catch A’nas alone and talk to him. The anger that had driven her when she’d thought it had been Marise, now replaced with a deep need to understand why, the loss of the pendant overshadowed by that.
And still, the irony escaped her.
It was only when she started to pick out all monogrammed items and pack them into a separate box for Murron to go through; that she realized something was amiss.
Going through the engraved pieces stored in a separate division of the chest, her brows crinkled together. She was sure there’d been another silver pendant with the initial ‘M’ engraved upon its back. Had she sold it to Murron? Fingers pressed against tired eyes as she searched her memory. No, she was quite sure she hadn’t even shown that one to the blonde being as how it hadn’t held a pearl to it.
A sigh passed from her lips as she reached for the stack of certificates drawn up by Candlario and started going through them one at a time, laying each corresponding piece of jewellery together with its document. The conclusion of the simple task displayed cold conclusion. There was a piece missing.
But when? How? She never left the jewellery unattended. Not even when she closed up the stand for lunch. The chest would go with her, tucked under one arm and was always stored under her bunk at night. Except for that one time today when…
Bailey’s jaw tightened, a sickened feeling crawling into her stomach. Except for when she’d left the weyrling and the redhead alone while she saw to that gaggle of customers. Brows drew together in a heavy frown. Surely the girl wouldn’t be so stupid as to lift something as easily identifiable as the pendant? What was it the girl had said her name was again? Marie, Marlise? Something like that. No matter, she knew where she lived - at the back of the tackle shop her parents ran here at the docks.
Anger coiled itself around the brunette as she threw a light shawl about her shoulders and stalked down the gangplank, the last of Rukbat’s rays stroking the sky. Little brat! She’d just stolen from entirely the wrong person, a point she intended to drive home in the harshest possible manner. The deep irony of the situation escaped Bailey as she marched up round the back of the tackle shop and banged on the door.
Several hours later with the young redhead in tears, her whole room having been turned upside down by outraged parents, Bailey slunk out of the small attached cottage amidst many repeated apologies and the promise of a free dress of the girl’s choosing by way of compensation for the false accusation.
Sluggish steps carried the brunette off the docks and out onto the darkened sands of the beach. If not the girl, then who could it have been? The only other person who’d been afforded a brief chance at the jewellery was…
A’nas. Bailey’s heart sank. Why would he do something like that to her, to Rio? He was a dragonrider now, supposedly a symbol of honour and glory as far as the harper tales painted it.
Steps came to rest at a large log and the woman sank down onto it, digging her toes into the black sands, saddened by the realization of who the offending party was. Fearing the lad torn limb from limb by the big man she determined not to tell Candlario. Not until she’d spoken with the teen and tried to find out why he’d done it. Did he need the marks he hoped to gain from selling it? Was he just a pawn trapped in someone else’s game?
Her head starting to ache with the beginnings of a headache, the woman pushed to her feet again and headed back to her boat. Tomorrow she’d try to catch A’nas alone and talk to him. The anger that had driven her when she’d thought it had been Marise, now replaced with a deep need to understand why, the loss of the pendant overshadowed by that.
And still, the irony escaped her.