The Seedbearing Prince: Part I by DaVaun Sanders

Flareze’s grin. “I don't
know how this world still turns without money, but we'll make do,
you and I. Come.” Dayn allowed himself a sigh of relief, then set
to lugging four heavy chests with iron locks over from the
offworlder’s cart. The man’s grin slipped even further after Dayn
finished the chore. “You didn’t even break a sweat.”
    Dayn shrugged as the man began unlocking the
chests. “What’s in all of these, more rocks from the torrent?”
    “Only a few,” Flareze admitted. “That one you
held nearly punched a hole in the transport that brought me here,
peace’s own truth. Those two that glisten, see how they pull at
each other?”
    To Dayn’s astonishment the two fist-sized
stones slid next to each other with a clink when the
offworlder set them apart. “Only pieces that were once near a
worldheart can do that. Common enough, but I figure I’ll always
find some fool taken enough to—Shardian, don’t touch that!”
    Dayn’s hand froze over the last remaining
chest. “I just wanted to help you, like we agreed. This one was
heaviest.”
    “That’s because it’s lined with lead. There’s
sickmetal inside. You won’t feel anything after a touch, but a week
from now a hole will be burned clean through your hand, or
worse.”
    Dayn stepped away and shot the trader an
accusing look. “Who would want that? I like things from the
torrent, but not if it will make me sick!”
    “It wasn’t meant for here,” Flareze allowed.
He gave a conspiratorial wink. “Raiders, lad, from the Eadrinn
Gohr. Heard of them, I see. Nothing like you fine folks. A cut from
one of their axes will weep blood for weeks. Or they’ll hide a
pinch in the stew of someone they don’t like, or worse yet, make a
helm out of the stuff. You can’t be around it too long, or it’ll
drive you mad, see? I couldn’t well let it out of my sight with you
locals poking around.”
    “People will leave your things alone,” Dayn
said, offended. “A thief on Evensong would be the shame of Shard.
If that ever happened, you should tell an Elder, so—” A muscle in
the Ista Cham man’s cheek twitched. The Elders don’t know! Dayn stopped with a sudden smile, and stuck his hand out. “Looks
like this is all you need?”
    “Looks that way.” Flareze shook his hand with
a rueful grin. “Maybe I won’t make out here as well as I thought.
Go enjoy your festival, young Shardian.”
    Dayn moved on, exhaling in relief. He
could’ve talked me out of all of my gems if given the chance. A
child darted past his knee, leaving behind a trail of staggering
adults. He wore a yellow shirt under his white garland. “Yonas?”
Dayn pushed after as carefully as he could, filled with sudden
doubt. If what Joam said was true, Yonas should be scared out of
his wits and sitting somewhere with bandaged feet, not running
through Evensong. A dozen more youngsters darted in and out of the
crowd, bouncing into hips and knees, laughing as they picked
themselves up off the ground.
    “Kincatcher, kincatcher, you can't catch me!”
They called. “Not one branch on your family tree!”
    A goodwife with a motherly face made an
attempt to stop the game. “You children know to stay on the
tangletoys. Now!” Her voice did not sound motherly at all.
    Dayn stopped near a blacksmith from Kohr
Springs who took down farmers' orders for tools and repairs. Yonas
would reappear soon enough, and then Dayn could ask his
questions.
    “Got you!” The goodwife emerged from the
throng with the kincatcher himself, a boy Dayn did not recognize
with a breathtakingly large head. The boy dangled precariously by
an earlobe as she marched him on tip toes out of the booths, then
firmly deposited him in the grass near the tangletoys. He rubbed
his reddened ear vigorously.
    Dayn grinned. A new kincatcher, this time a
Kohr Springs girl with brown hair and feet that blurred beneath her
blue dress, now ran through the booths. Every child she touched
would be added to her 'family'