Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [176]
Suddenly, Wataru found himself thinking of Kaori Daimatsu. Their faces were completely different. But the graceful air to them, like a fairy’s, was quite similar. Theirs was an unearthly beauty.
I wonder how Kaori is doing?
A sharp elbow jab in the ribs snapped Wataru out of his reverie. Meena coughed. “Shouldn’t you ask him about Mitsuru?”
Oh, right. Through sheer force of will, Wataru tore his gaze away from the girl’s face.
“A sorcerer about your age? Hmm…” Pam scratched his round, bald head. “This isn’t like Gasara, where we check everyone at the town gate. It’s hard to say who’s visiting the town at any given time. You might ask around at the lodges.”
Too bad. He hadn’t expected finding Mitsuru to be that easy, but still, it was a disappointment.
“Of course, a boy sorcerer would stand out, and if he’s still staying in Lyris, it shouldn’t take long to track him down—not for us Highlanders.” The chief suggested that they take a walk around and familiarize themselves with the town. There was still time before the scheduled patrols began.
Kee Keema leaned forward. “Actually, I was hoping we could visit Toni Fanlon’s workshop. Could you tell me where it is?”
The chief’s eyes suddenly became sinister-looking slits. “Eh? Fanlon?”
Elza, carrying tea to some of the other Highlanders, let a cup slip from her fingers. It fell on the floor and smashed. “I’m sorry,” she said, hurriedly picking up the pieces. The chief shot a quick glance at her. When he turned back to Kee Keema, the same pleasant smile from before had returned to his face. “If you’re looking for his workshop, it’s off to the north end of the marketplace. You won’t have any trouble finding it.”
Roughly speaking, the town of Lyris was shaped like an apple. The core was home to the branch and town offices, hospital, school, and the mayor’s private residence. Four large roads ran from the core out to the edges of town, one in each of the cardinal directions. Each of these roads had a name, and the marketplace took up much of Bricklayer Street that led to the north, running along it in a narrow succession of shops and stalls. At the very end of the north road, right where the stem of the apple would be, stood the cathedral with a large bell tower.
The tower stood high over the cathedral, casting a shadow across the rooftops in the afternoon sun. Completely captured in that shadow, on a small street corner, they found the Fanlon workshop. Here there were several houses crammed tightly together. Each seemed to be leaning in its own direction without any regard for its neighbors. There was no sign of any sort, nor any wares on display. It was a two-story house of old brick that had dried and cracked in the sun over the years. Wind and rain had leached the color from its walls, and the door was a simple, single panel of worn wood.
The people on the street were very kind, and everyone was happy to show them the way to the workshop. Someone even offered to take them there—it was easy to get lost in the marketplace crowds. When they finally came to the house they couldn’t believe their eyes. How could the most famed jeweler of Lyris, known even in the lands of the Empire to the north, live in such a humble house?
“Well, nothing left to do but knock, I suppose,” Kee Keema said, making a fist with his massive hand and stepping toward the front entryway. Just then, the door swung out and smacked him directly on the nose.
“Ouch!”
Bouncing off Kee Keema’s leathery snout, the door slammed shut into whoever had opened it.
“Ack!” came a yelp from inside.
“Ah, many apologies,” Kee Keema said, bowing. A young man stepped out from behind the door, holding his bruised nose with one hand.
“Hmm? Who might you be?” the youth asked, favoring them with a suspicious glare. He was an ankha, and very tall for his age. He wore a black shirt, black trousers, and a white workman’s apron that reached down to his knees. His glossy