#sygnet

The Vanar market practically buzzed with life. Fabric draped over stalls and stretched across the mingling space in between so that the sunlight skipped between the vibrantly dyed hanging scarves, throwing light in irregular patterns throughout the place and reflecting off of bejeweled lamps and shining kettles.

In the midst of all the chaos stood a girl in her black coat, her reddish-gold hair hanging straight down to her waist. Her dark outfit contrasted against the warmly colored garb that most of the bustling market-goers wore, though she paid no attention as she stared absent-mindedly at the same pair of slippers—and had been for the past fifteen minutes. The annoyed shopkeeper had given up on catching her attention a while ago.

“Is that Krista? Smiling?”

Sygnet emerged from a stall, arms laden with a voluminous mound of fabrics. The bolts stuck out every which way behind her, only tenuously remaining in her grasp as she wove fluidly through the bustling market crowd. A passing man bumped Sygnet’s arm without apology, and some of the material went flying.

“Careful!” Krista lunged forward, just barely catching the wayward bolts before they could hit the ground and become trampled—and considerably less valuable. Sygnet shouted an insult to the man’s back before adjusting her grasp on the material that hadn’t slipped.

“Sorry about that—”

“What took you so long?” Krista interrupted, her expression icy once more as she scooped the fabric closer to her chest protectively. Her fingers trickled over each fabric sample out of habit—the very soft, very black wool for outer-layers; the creamy, blonde-colored linen for under-layers; and the dark, smooth goldenrod silk for more elaborate trimmings.

Sygnet pursed her lips at being interrupted but gave a willowy gesture back to the stall she had just left.

“The man—” she began, exasperated already at having to recount their encounter, “—had the gall to stand there and count out each and every coin I gave him in payment, and these fabrics, as I know you are aware, were costly, so it took some time.”

Krista made a face at that. “Why would he insist on—”

“Well,” Sygnet interrupted now, “I don’t believe he cared for me very much.”

The other woman opened her mouth to respond, but Sygnet cut her off before she could start.

“And now I know what you must be thinking: ‘Sygnet, what could he possibly find displeasing about you?’”

“That really wasn’t what—”

“I suspect that somehow he recognized me.” The woman flicked a long strand of dark hair over her shoulder, her jeweled rings clinking together at the movement.

Krista snorted a laugh under her breath, eying up the flashy, bright metallic gold of the woman’s dress and the numerous scarves arranged elaborately around her shoulders. Hair pins flashed bright hues of garnet and citrine in her glossy hair, and the simultaneous clinking of her rings and coin purse turned heads if any aspect of her outfit failed to.

“You are very memorable, Sygnet,” she admitted, and the older woman smiled a brilliant pearl smile at that, “though I still do not understand how that could lead to a man distrusting your coin. If anything, it ought to have done the opposite.”

Sygnet nodded absently at the girl’s conclusion. Taking the lead, she hurried them forward while there was a gap in the current of the crowd, streaming towards the exit nearest where their ship was docked and awaiting their return. A moment passed in silence as Krista focused on attempting to pass through the crowd without bumping shoulders with the busy shoppers.

“He would find me no more trustworthy than my own family would, likely,” she finally answered as the crowd thinned out.

Krista whipped her head away from a stall pushing crystallized honey crisp-cakes and expensive tea to instead seek Valhalla’s Keeper of Coin. “Your family?”

Sygnet nodded again, this time turning to find the girl’s face. “We are from here,” she gestured around them at the stalls draped in shades of lapis and gold and topaz. “We had a family shop I used to work, as well. We sold jewels and jewelry, precious metals … anything valuable, really.”

“You suddenly make much more sense,” the younger girl pulled a face.

Sygnet’s laugh rumbled deep in her chest at that.

“And imagine their luck once they realized my abilities to count coin by merely setting them in the center of my palm! I could also approximate a jewel’s worth, as well. Precious metals are a little trickier, but I come much closer than anyone else without my gifts. I’d never seen my parents so happy—or rich.”

The smell of cooked lamb and spices overtook them as more stalls faded from luxurious silken golds to a softer, buttery yellow. The food stalls were also much busier, and Krista sidled up a little closer to Sygnet’s side as once again people pushed up against her in their haste to move around the slower-moving Valkyries.

“So,” Krista ventured, turning the idea over in her head, “you made your parents rich, but they still didn’t trust you?”

Sygnet’s gaze fell upon the clearing beyond two pillars—the exit where cobblestone fell off to a dusty orange-tan sand. Her thoughts seemed to extend beyond even this, however.

“They didn’t want me to leave,” she said simply, though her sharpened nails sunk into the cool feel of the fabrics she carried. “It was never my seithr they distrusted—it was my intentions once I realized I didn’t want to work a shop stall forever. My passions lied elsewhere, though, despite my reassurances otherwise, they suspected I was going open my own shop to undercut their business.”

“And you never considered doing so?” Krista asked, unaccusatory but curious in her questioning.

Sygnet barked a laugh at that, her nails easing back from the fabric. “Oh no, absolutely not. I want to wear jewels—not sell them.”

Krista laughed long now too, her smile lingering on her small mouth even after she quieted once more.

“That does sound more like you,” she admitted.

“Yes, I know,” Sygnet breathed out another laugh, “though my parents would hear none of it. They swore to our family—and our entire community—that I was lying, which isn’t necessarily uncommon here on Vanaheim—” she shrugged, “—but once you develop a reputation of untrustworthiness, it’s difficult to prove otherwise.”

Krista soaked in the information, saying nothing but thinking over this new side to Sygnet she had yet to encounter.

“Allying myself with Lady Freyja also did not help me much,” Sygnet continued.

The girl looked up at that.

“But she’s from Vanaheim,” Krista objected, “and the daughter of Lord Njord, a law-giver here. A respected law-giver, I’d heard. How could that not help?”

Sygnet shook her head.

“She might be from a respected Vanir family, but she married an Asgardian,” she tried to explain, “and attached herself to him when it was still … unpopular, politically. She also never returned home once he passed. Instead, she went to a dead realm and, I believe the word I have heard used is lured, Vanir daughters away from their families to join her.”

“Lured? Really, that is just ridiculous—”

“Valhalla is a noble fate from the tales of Asgard, not Vanaheim,” Sygnet gave a small smile for her reaction. “Our idea of death and passing, of the afterlife, is much different. Living in the realm of the dead comes across as a bit … deranged to many here, I suppose. We’re turning their daughters and wives into death witches.”

Krista pursed her lips at the phrase. “I suppose.”

A silence settled between the two as they came upon the exit at last. Krista gave one more look to the older woman leading the way still, an entirely new person it felt to her. She noticed now too how the crowd made a point to keep their distance from the woman, giving her both a wide berth and sharp expressions of distaste. Sygnet raised her hand in greeting to them, the gold ring of her oath to the Sisterhood branded around her forefinger flashing in the sunlight. Those who caught sight of the thing startled before making a faster pace in the opposite direction. Krista’s own oath brand tingled where it sat at the base of her neck.

“Sygnet?” the girl asked as they exited through the towering pillars.

“Hm?”

“Why haven’t you told me any of this before? You practically haunt my studio when I’m trying to work.” Sand slid beneath her boots unevenly so that she had to step delicately.

Sygnet gave a small, defensive scoff, her stride remaining confident. “Haunting! I just like knowing what new clothes the Valkyrior will be endowed.”

Her eyes flickered between the silent younger girl and the docking area ahead of them and back again.

“Why haven’t I told you?” she started again. “Why haven’t you told me what it is you were smiling about? It’s a matter of … trust. And vulnerability.” She cleared her throat.