The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

The City, part 2

Imorah enjoyed the laugh at Liran's expense, and tried to catch her breath. She didn't understand what anyone was saying, but she could feel that they meant no harm. It probably wasn't every day that someone or two someones just suddenly arrived out of the garbage heap.

She looked down into the gaping pit, truly horrified at where they'd just come from. She held back from the edge of the pit and watched as someone pushed his way through the crowd, and used a large knife to push what looked like animal bones from a cutting board into it.

Imorah grimaced in disgust.

The old woman who had helped drag her out of the pit looked at Imorah with alarm, probably thinking maybe she was hurt.

Imorah shook her head, and smiled. I'm okay!

The woman smiled and kept patting Imorah's arm, nodding, smiling, and seeming quite proud to have been of help. She handed Imorah a cloth, and made a motion, as if to clean her face.

Imorah nodded in return, giving what she hoped was a universal gesture of thanks, and patted the woman's hand. She took the cloth and wiped off her face and galabya. She was filthy. "Thank you," she said.

The woman's eyes went wide, and she nodded, and turned and walked away quickly.

Imorah gulped. She shouldn't speak here. They clearly didn't like Standard.

As Liran stood up and brushed off the debris of rotting food and what smelt to Imorah like excrement, the people who had stopped to spectate their escape from the Praetoria were now back on their way, already lost in the crowds. The occurrence must have just been a mere blip in their day.

"You okay?" Liran asked quietly.

Imorah nodded. She was still out of breath from the run, and her heart was still thumping, and her body tingled. She  panted, trying with all her might not to breathe a single whiff of air through her nose. The stench was unbearable. Not just the stench of where she'd come from, and what she was covered in, but where she'd ended up as well. There was a cocophony of smells surrounding her, and not a single one of them was pleasant. "What is this place?" she whispered.

"It looks like a market."

"A market?"

"Where people buy stuff, trade stuff like food."

Imorah nodded. She'd never been in a market, but had read about them. It was so crowded and everyone was so concerned with their own things that Imorah felt entirely alone.

She used her soiled cloth to wipe off Liran's face and hands, the only parts of him not covered by his clothing. She thought he would be better off just throwing out his galabya. At least he had the desert suit on underneat.

"Where should we go?" she asked him after wiping the much off his face.

Liran shrugged. And then his eyes widened as he remembered something. "The pack." He pulled off a black bag he hadn't had before, and put it on the ground.

Imorah looked around to see if anyone was interested in what they were doing, but no one paid them any attention. She stared down into the bag, and saw all the familiar objects: water maker, meal bars, and more. It was the same as what Tashin had stolen from them before.

Liran pulled out a tiny round object, and looked at it surreptitiously inside the bag.

Imorah captured a tiny glimpse of some electronic light.

Then he snapped it shut, zipped up the bag and shouldered and stood, ready to go. He was filthy, covered in muck that was now drying in his hair and a short beard.