Crestdune, country of Montmyth

1,487 years after the Pretian Split

802 years after the fall of the Old Gaaric Empire

--

The family bakery had been a better teacher for Suthe Montikwe than any classroom ever could. She had learned patience, in letting the dough rise, and careful attention to time, when bread was in the oven. And no school lesson had ever taught Suthe of the importance to detail quite like putting the finishing touches on a five-level kal wedding cake, or of the need to keep a cool head and stay focused when said cake had been ordered last-minute. These life lessons, to Suthe, were far more valuable than mulling over the words of dead poets or memorizing the history of politics, for they had taught her how to live her own life, and not about how others had lived theirs.

The bakery was home, with its smells of rosemary and honey, and the smile of familiar faces that came in every week. Sometimes, when the flour rose up in clouds from the countertops and caught the light of the sun shining through the windows, it seemed to Suthe like a dream separate from the worries and commotion of the rest of the world.

Such was the case now, as Suthe focused on the task before her; the reassuring thud of slightly-sticky dough hitting the wooden countertop echoed in the otherwise-quiet building.

"It's unusual, don't you think?"

Suthe's mother, Dossa, was a slender, petite woman who looked younger than her years, with wide-set, light brown eyes and lips that naturally curved up at the corners in the illusion of a subtle smile. At Suthe's comment, she turned away from the window, where she had been checking on the pastry display, and made her way back behind the bakery counter. One pastry that hadn't withstood the noonday heat as well as the others was thrown into the oven fire, and Dossa brushed the sugary remains on her apron.

"What's unusual, Suthe?"

Suthe frowned down at the dough she was kneading. "That it's so empty, for a Friday," she explained. "It's a nice day outside, one of the warmest in weeks, but there hasn't been a soul for the past half-hour."

Her mother frowned as she thought over Suthe's words. "The street did seem a bit deserted, earlier," she commented, nodding her head in the direction of the window with the pastries. Suthe followed her mother's gaze to beyond the latticed window screen, where the warm sandstone buildings outside stood quiet and deserted.

"Maybe there's a meeting in Speaker's Circle?" Suthe suggested.

"We should have been notified a few days in advance if there was another city debate," her mother said with a shake of her head. "Something doesn't seem right." She approached the set of clothes hooks on the back wall and untied her apron, switching it out for a shawl instead.

"You're going to find out?" Suthe followed her, trying to dust the dough and flour from her hands. Her efforts only furthered the contrasting streaks of white against her brown skin.

Her mother stopped suddenly and turned back to face Suthe with lips pressed together in a grim expression. Suthe could only remember a handful of times when her mother had ever looked so serious, and it sent a pit of dread opening up in her stomach.

"You should stay here," her mother said. "I just put the next batch of glondas in the oven and someone needs to make sure they don't burn."

Suthe let out a breath of frustration. "But—"

"We have to be careful with your traits," Dossa interrupted her daughter in a lowered tone. "We've been fortunate so far that you haven't had any public accidents, and I don't want to risk it now. Or do you want to end up like Pendi Montkubo?"

Suthe grimaced at the reminder, hating that her mother was right on this matter. Her traits, as her family had always called them, were looked down upon in Montese society, and were consequently the bane of her existence. She could not let others know about them.

To be safe, she had put all her efforts into the maintenance of her late father's bakery, working with the hope that if only she was kind to the customers and kept to herself, she could continue with her normal life in the city. It had worked so far, but as a result, Suthe had very few friends, and at the age of nineteen had yet to take a single trip outside her own city.

Still, she would rather be called 'strange' than 'dangerous.'

Dossa's stern expression softened a bit, and she reached out a hand to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind Suthe's ear.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just want you to be safe."

Suthe sighed. "I know. You're right."

The bakery was home, but it could also feel like a prison.

Suthe returned to her spot behind the counter, picking up the ball of dough she had been working on. Her mother was only looking out for her, she reminded herself. She did not want to end up like the others who had been discovered, like Pendi.

Pendi's incident had happened in the marketplace two weeks ago, where he had gotten into an argument with a friend.  In the heat of the moment, he had accidentally levitated off the ground, and Suthe had watched as the terrified shoppers called in the local militia to deal with him. After that, the young boy had been driven out of the city and hadn't been heard from since. Druiths weren't criminals, but it didn't stop the people's prejudice. Fear was hard to rationalize with.

"It's probably nothing special anyway," Dossa said, and Suthe knew she was trying to make her feel less like she was missing out. "I bet Mr. Montkoor's camel just got loose in the marketplace again, and everyone's gone to see the spectacle."

Suthe gave a small laugh. "If that's the case, then I'll gladly stay here and tend to the bakery, thank you. That beast is vicious."

Her mother laughed and turned to leave. "And don't forget about the glondas!"

"Okay, okay!" Suthe called back. The mention of the camel had put a smile on her face, but as silence settled in the bakery once more, her uneasiness returned. What had caused so many people to set aside their work in the middle of the day? A town crier must have come through at some point—probably just as Suthe and her mother had been in the back washing the baking pans.

Just more rotten druith luck, Suthe thought miserably. Whatever announcement the town crier had made would have been drowned out by the sound of their banging pans and using the metal scrub brush.

But perhaps it was good news? Suthe finished with the dough and set it aside to rise. Perhaps nothing bad had happened at all.

Suthe washed off the dough and flour residue and sat down behind the counter, desperate for a distraction from her worried thoughts. Regional Recipes was lying open by the cookie jar, and she idly began to flip through the pages.

The book had been open to the glondas recipe, a traditional Montese pastry that Suthe and her mother were quite familiar with. However, the book contained instructions for several foreign foods, and Suthe was looking forward to a new challenge later in the day. Perhaps she could try making the star cakes from the mountain kingdom of Andilir? Or the salted twists from across the sea in Sylterra?

As the sticky-sweet smell of glondas grew stronger in the bakery, Suthe propped her head up with an elbow on the counter and continued to flip through the recipe book.

"The bean paste buns look good," she commented aloud, stopping on another Andilirish recipe. As if on cue, her stomach gave a loud gurgle. "Oh, hush."

Trying to come to a decision, Suthe flipped back to the page on salted twists. But the smell of the baking bread was distracting, and it was nearing lunchtime. With a nervous glance at the front door, Suthe got up to take the tray of round glondas out of the oven and set them on the countertop to cool.

That was when she heard the footsteps.

Someone was running, and it sounded like they were heading straight for the bakery.

~~

I've been stalling on posting this chapter for days, but I finally got over my nitpicky urges and decided to post.  Now it's your turn to tear it apart!  Let me know what you think, and don't forget to vote!

Dedicated to italychick for volunteering to make the amazing cover for this book!  If you have a penchant for adventurous fantasy with a Celtic twist, check out her book, The Witch's Way.  Thanks Nora!  :D