Rannik disappeared into the crowd, made up of people haggling, buying, selling, singing, arguing, and laughing all at once. Goods from the four corners of Allansia could be found here on a good day. Whether they were brought to the city by honest trade or thieving trickery mattered little to most customers, who were eager to purchase anything and everything they could to meet their needs.
Of course, the Market Square offered not only commerce, but entertainment as well. At its center were a series of stocks set up beneath a clump of trees, always filled with a number of sundry criminals, sentenced for petty offences. Although not as miserable as a stay in prison, the stocks were in some ways even worse, as passers-by always stopped to laugh and hurl things at them, namely rotten produce.
Two old women, on their weekly purchasing trip, stopped to look at the four men and one woman in the stocks this day. One of them removed her hat and mopped her forehead, glad for the relief offered by the trees. She clucked disapprovingly at the prisoners in the stocks.
"Awful, just awful, Muriel," the old woman said sadly.
"Aye, that it is Esther," her companion answered. "I happen to know that boy there, the second one on the left. That boy was one of the runners for Lisgar, that pipe-weed salesman in Cut-Throat Alley. I wager he was caught by the City Guard?" Muriel asked with a smile.
"Not so much, Muriel," Esther replied with a smile. "I dare say that he was sold out by one of his friends. That friend didn't take too kindly to how the lad was cutting him out of his share of the profits." She replaced her hat on her head and looked wistfully at the scowling youth caught in the pen. He glared back at her, getting ready to spit…until a rotten egg struck his cheek, splattering his face with rotten yolk.
Muriel grinned at Esther, holding up the sack of rotten vegetables she had just purchased from a street urchin. Esther smiled back and fished around in her pocket for a shill, or silver piece, before handing it to another urchin in a grandmotherly way, pinching the little boy's cheek. The boy smiled back and handed her a particularly vile-smelling sack, before disappearing into the crowd.
"Let's see, then…" Esther paused, considering her target. "I think I can strike that young man on the far right, next to the girl." She chuckled as the rotten tomato caught the unlucky prisoner square between the eyes.
"That boy is a bad seed," Muriel proclaimed with authority. "He caused no end of trouble in my neighbourhood. Always throwing stones, breaking windows, tripping up his elders, things like that."
"What did he do to end up there?" Esther asked, her interest piqued.
"He threw stones, broke windows, and tripped up his elders," Muriel answered with a smile. "I merely had a friend of mine in the City Guard pay him a little visit." She smiled and waved cheerfully at the youth, who merely spat at her. Muriel hissed with annoyance and disappeared into the crowd for a moment, coming back with a worn leather glove.
"What are you going to do with that?" Esther asked. "And why just one old, bad-smelling glove?"
"It only cost one shill," Muriel replied. "But it will be well worth the price." Putting the glove on her right hand, she scooped up some of the dung and offal lying in the street. Striding boldly up to the young man who spat at her, she proceeded to rub all the filth and droppings in his face, before slapping him a few times. Removing the glove, she promptly tossed it at his feet.
"That will teach him to respect his elders," Muriel said calmly.
"Perhaps," Esther replied. "You never know with children these days. Why, that young man there," she continued, indicating the boy on the far left, "was the lookout for the gang that robbed Talimar the Scalper. The little rat bribed the magistrates to only sentence him to this." The young man merely smirked back at her, before sticking out his tongue.
"A pity, it is," Esther continued. "Talimar set my hip back in place after I fell down those stairs a few years ago. I owe him this much, at least," she commented, throwing a rotten egg at the young man. She made another perfect throw, the rotten yolk falling all over the young man's tongue. He withdrew it hastily, spitting in disgust.
"How about that young lady, there?" Muriel inquired. "She hardly looks like the violent type."
"You know as well as I do that appearances are deceiving," Esther rebuked her. "She was involved in beating that poor Jalal Armen lady. Lady Armen didn't even have any money on her. The harridan in the stocks over there merely wanted to attack someone."
"Then she fully deserves this," Muriel noted, throwing a rotten apple at her. The rotten fruit exploded on contact, splattering the young woman with foul-smelling juices.
"And that last one, in the central stock?" Esther inquired.
"I believe…yes, he was a typical pickpocket. A shame it is, he's a good enough boy. I met him in the King's Fingers Tavern once. I take it the magistrate was in a good mood to sentence him so lightly. The rest of his gang was not so lucky. They each gave Lord Azzur's mad executioner a chance to practice his impaling techniques," Muriel answered dryly. "They deserved it, for being such bad influences on such a good boy."
"Then shall we throw what's left in our sacks at the four other hoodlums?" Esther asked.
"A fine idea, and a good example to show the boy," Muriel replied. "A prayer to Libra, that lady of justice, would not go amiss either."
After concluding their business, the two elderly women continued their shopping and gossiping as they weaved their way through the market, paying little heed to the crowd that gathered near the Middle Bridge as the sun began to set, heading for the Garden District and the City Arena.