Chaceledon was... she really didn't know how to define his appearance. He attempted to be understated to her, at least for now, but even so there was an exotic elegance to him, despite the subtle exoticness of
Amol-Kalit itself, and he would never be able to subdue that.
The next few hours passed quickly.
As they entered the busy streets,
Seteta at first focused on the children. She did little works of illusion, asking what their favorite stories were, and casting an image of a hero or creature from them. It was research, too. She would begin the evening with a few shorter stories, things to lure a crowd in, and she needed to know what the current trends were. What stories parents were telling their children, and the stories that children were telling each other.
Tonight, after all, was not about making a profit, but about making a scene. No one spread gossip faster than a child, even if it was inaccurately retold at times.
After the children, she spoke with the slaves and servants. Then with merchants and vendors, and any one who would pause to watch her small displays. She sang folksongs that everyone in Amol-Kalit knew, punctuating iconic stanzas with illusions to illustrate them, walking through the center of the street with a lilting stride.
She ended each interaction with an invitation.
Do you want to hear the story of the dragon, the one who flew into Maraan? How he was enslaved by a wraith for 17,000 years, but was set free by a desert girl? Be at the Twin Arches at dusk for the tale.
Her hands already burned, but only mildly. By the time the night was over, she was certain they would be in agony. There hadn't been an opportunity for her to pay the pain toll ahead of time, so the magic would name its price instead.
When the foot traffic grew thin as the sun sat between the point of high noon and dusk, Seteta led Chaceledon back to the inn for a little rest. What people she hadn't been able to reach now would hear the news through their children, through their slaves and servants, through their spouses.
While they rested and ate in the dining room, Seteta continued to do little illusions for any children who wandered up and asked it of her, telling them shorter stories, illustrated proverbs mostly, especially when it looked like they were accompanied by weary parents.
Eventually, after they'd eaten, and for once she didn't have time to coerce more food into Chaceledon as she barely had time to eat anything herself, they snuck away back to the room to rest in quiet for a brief time and give Seteta's voice a rest.
"Can this come off for a little while, so I can lie down?" she asked, gesturing at the garments. "We probably need to shake the dust out of it anyway. There's only a couple hours till dusk now."
Chaceledon
