Novalee walked the streets. She had no idea where she was. She didn't know the way back to the Two for Joy Inn and Tavern. She figured the best thing to do was to head towards The Horn of Gius; it was the marker of the center of Central. It had been built by Gius the Great, who had saved Central, and it was still a city ordnance that no building could be built to block the view of the Horn. At the Horn all the main thoroughfares met, so she should be able to find her way at least somewhere.
Novalee made her way, winding through the confusing network of streets. The Horn was both the geographical center and the economic center of the city. The horn plaza was the largest in the city, and because that was where the Julis River forked into the Marus and the Caras Rivers, there were a multitude of ports around it. It was an open place where just about anything could be bought or sold. There were street performers of all kinds set up all over the plaza.
However, as Novalee made her way to the plaza something strange seemed to be happening. The streets were crowded and the people did not seem to be headed to the plaza to buy and sell. They were grumbling about something and many of them were armed.
Novalee grew up in the temple, and was rarely allowed outside. In the months since she escaped, she was more concerned with staying alive than with understanding the political and social temperature of Central. So it shouldn't be any surprise that she didn't understand what the people around her were complaining about.
When she got to the Horn, the plaza was packed, but not with venders. Everyone was listening to someone speaking about something. Novalee couldn't quite make out what it was about. Whatever it was, the people around her were reacting violently.
"Excuse me," she said to a woman a head taller than herself, “Do you know what is going on?” the woman turned. Her skin was dark purplish black and her hair was white. She looked at Novalee, then turned back to the crowd.
Novalee tried again, this time speaking deep speech, the language used by the dark elves and other creatures of the Underworld.
The woman looked at her again and, this time said, "He is complaining about the in-flux of refugees from Port Armath."
The dark elf glared at her and was about to say something, when everyone started to yell.
The yelling turned to violence, and the dark elf pulled out a rod from the inside of her robes. Purple eldritch magic collected in her free hand, and when someone went to attack her, he was blasted with the eldritch power she controlled.
Novalee tried to get away, but the crowd jostled her. She was so small that the crowd simply pushed her out of their way. She was knocked down onto the cobble stone pavement. Someone kicked her. Someone else stepped on her hand. She curled herself into a ball, hoping that it would somehow protect her. She was surrounded by stomping feet, and Novalee knew that she would be trampled to death.
Next---> Wrong Place at the Right Time Part 2