A/N: Ok, this is different to my usual. Its set in a fantasy world, kind of olde worlde but still with modern language. The style is a little different since this was written at a time where I had random ideas spouting through my head at all hours, so I'll apologise if it becomes too random as the story progresses. As always let me know what you think. I need at least three reviews for me to post another chapter, or else its coming off :P Working title-Caillou (aka stone)

Chapter one

The old, faintly red coloured wagon jolted back and forth along the track, it’s thin wooden wheels clunking along at every stone, pebble or ditch that happened to be on its path. It made a noise such as never heard before; a serenade of clinking, thudding and chiming. The horse, an old grey dappled mare named Dana, plodded at her own speed, taking no haste to get to the next destination.

Its only passenger didn’t mind these things. The rough, jiggling movement didn’t bother her like it would most others. The strange orchestra of things were making music to deaf ears, and the horse (whom she adored) was her most trusted companion and loyal friend. They were all part of her life and its ways, and she had grown used to it all like a dog to a new home. Without them, her moveable house would not be the same.

But it wasn’t just a house. Her whole income and survival came from the depths of this wagon, in the form of baubles and trinkets that were unusual and catching to the eye. She sold to live, and she lived to sell.

India Caillou was a woman of high intelligence and outstanding skill that had devoted her life to what she owned. The wagon, horse and the trinkets she made had been brought with her own money, skimping and saving until she had to practically bleed to get what she wanted. All she had longed for was freedom and a purpose in life during her younger years, even being no more than a child, but had assumed that she would never get it. Yet now she had it all, the freedom to go where she wanted, when she wanted, and the purpose of making people happy with her things. Whether it be the wide eyed child looking for something pretty, or the blushing new bride that was after a fidelity charm, she always had something for each and every one.

Crystals were Indi’s speciality. She loved making them into jewellery, charms or talismans for the people who admired them. From Abolite to Zircon she owned them all, working them in to gold, silver, brass and other things to make her profits. They all had special assets that would bring out the best in its owner, and were valued by all. And Indi never used coloured glass in an attempt to con the buyer. Her pieces were one hundred percent genuine.

Around the counties, she had made a reputation for herself. Tales of how good her work was and how helpful she always would be were widely known. Some villages even had lookouts waiting for her, standing atop the watchtowers day after day when she was rumoured to be near. But Indi liked to surprise them, taking the back way in the city and arriving at midnight, so it was as if she had just appeared in the dead of night.

But it looked as if she was going to arrive in the next village, Greenvale, in the early evening, just as the stars were appearing in the sky.

Indi clattered through the gates, pulling her cloak hood down briefly and hailing to the guards who waved and called out her name. Their faces, like always, were friendly and she knew that here, in this little nowhere village, she was loved and respected like every citizen within its walls. She had been here before, a number of times, knowing that the sales were always brilliant and the people so friendly and kind. And as she passed through the cobblestone streets, weaving slowly through houses she was greeted with shouts of joy, even though her hood was back up and she was mostly unrecognisable.

‘It’s India!’ they called, running after the wagon. ‘She’s here, she’s here!’

Indi found herself smiling as the warm night breeze lifted her thin cloak and wound itself through her light blue tunic. Her long, raven’s wing hair was ruffled by a larger breath of wind. This was truly what she lived for, she thought, as the breeze caressed her face. She couldn’t care less that people were following her, begging her to begin selling right away, pleading for charms and baubles as she entered the main circle. Other salesmen and vendors were already there with their wagons, from highly dressed merchants to the ragged peddler with the barrel full of junk. Some, by the looks, had already been there a few days. Indi knew she would make more than any of them put together.

‘Miss? Miss India? Have you seen the harpist?’ A boy of around five years old tugged on her sleeve as she jumped nimbly from the seat. ‘He’s really good.’

Indeed, as Indi went forward to lead the horse, the haunting notes of a harp floated over on the light breeze. The music wove around her, telling sad tales of love lost and reborn, soaring through the air in swift motions that made her stop and simply listen. India absorbed the music with not a word, closing her eyes as pictures of true love came to her. The music was enchanting, entrancing, and enthralling, echoing in the otherwise silent night like a lost, lone wolf, calling for it’s home. The source came from a small campfire which crackled merrily right near her allocated spot. And as she approached, Dana’s weary hooves dragging slightly behind her, Indi could see that a small crowd of around ten people were all crouched round the hidden creator of music.

Whoever it was playing, she decided as she backed the wagon into place and let the exhausted horse drink her fill from the trough, they were magnificent.

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He watched her with narrowed eyes, the firelight flicking over his face as his hands deftly played the strings. Her cloak swirled around in the cool night air, revealing a bright slash of blue beneath it. The hood of the dark material was up, and he could not see her face, but she moved with a kind of easy grace that most women did not possess.

Many women, he mused as he assured himself that the bodies around him hid him accurately, would not come here alone. He had only seen various old women unchaperoned, but most were too batty to even know where they were. The market circle at Greenvale was no place for a lady, not really even a merchant’s wife, but yet here this one was with no male figure in sight.

She was placed near him.

He would have to find out more about this lone wench, he decided, smiling slyly to himself. If there was a woman who had ever been able to resist Marco Harper’s charms, then he’d be the first to know.

‘Miss India?’

India smiled down at the young girl of around sixteen who was her first customer that morning. The sun had barely risen when her shutters had been thrown open, and only now were people flocking through the many entrances to the circle. This girl, however, must have been an early riser.

‘What can I do for you? And it’s Indi, please,’ she said to the sage eyed girl. Today, Indi had taken the liberty of looking as nice as she could, letting her long, raven's wing hair hang loose about her pale face and wearing her midnight blue tunic with the glittering silver embroidery that set of the natural brilliance of her sapphire eyes. She hoped that it would make an impression on the customers.

‘Please,’ the girl whispered, incredibly shy. ‘I’m only just married. My husband will expect children, but…’ The girl blushed and looked at her feet. ‘I’m afraid-’

Indi smiled warmly at the girl she had known so many like. ‘No worries. See this crystal?’ she produced a large lump of deep green piece of stone from her collection. ‘It’s an old, ancient Chinese stone. In the East, they used this as a soother, a calming stone, but there are many other properties. The crystal, 'the Earth Stone' as it's sometimes called, is actually named after the very first Chinese princess, a beautiful woman named Jade. It eases fear and anxiety and also,’ she winked at the girl, ‘brings fertility to the woman who use it.’

The girl gasped. ‘My name is Jade!’ she exclaimed, looking up in fascination and wonder at the crystal bearing her namesake. ‘How much for it?’

‘Seven pennies, for you Miss Jade, and I’ll weld it to a chain free since you are my first customer this morning.’ India announced with a smile. ‘Collect it in an hour so you can wear it about your neck. You can pay me when you return.’

Jade flushed with gratitude, right to the roots of her silvery blonde hair. ‘Thank you so much Miss India, I’m ever so grateful,’ she gasped and hurried away to gather seven pennies.

Indi smiled softly to herself as she opened up the rest of the wagon’s side hatch. The wind chimes and dream catchers hung from the roof, the ornaments and jewellery glinting brightly in the dawn sun, and the precious gems sparkled in clear trays, catching the eye off all who approached.

But something had caught her eye. From the canvas tent next to her, a man had emerged, his deep chestnut hair ruffled and wrinkled from a night of sleep. Her breath caught as the morning sunlight sparkled off breath taking green eyes. She had never seen such a clear resemblance to emeralds before, and they were so sharp! The man stretched his arms high towards the sun, and, for the first time in years, Indi’s stomach twisted at the sight of the taut bronzed skin that was revealed.

She shook her head, and looked away, trying to clear the feeling that had swamped her. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel lust for a man for years, and she wasn’t about to start again now.

Absorbed in clearing her head, she almost jumped out of her skin when he hailed her.

‘Ah, so you were the one who arrived last night.’ The man wandered over, those green eyes locked on hers. Indi found herself fighting not to let her jaw go slack as he leant casually against her counter. He smiled, and she gulped, fighting to keep her expression passive.

Marco surveyed the woman in front of him. Her black hair hung down to her waist, two electric blue streaks clipped back from the front with a deep sapphire grip. Her eyes, the most amazing blue he had ever seen, seemed to have hidden depths that only the brave would venture into. The face was elfin, pale and delicately boned, whereas her features wore an expression of bored ease. There was just a tiny hint of curiosity about her, and Marco found himself looking at a woman that was actually undermining his confidence.

He coughed once. ‘So. What’s a lone maid doing all by herself in these rough and tumble parts?’

‘The same as you are,’ Indi answered, trying to keep her voice as cool as possible. ‘Selling my goods.’

‘I don’t sell,’ Marco grinned, knowing that this woman had no idea of who he was.

She hoped he didn’t notice her slight downward collapse as her knees buckled. That grin was pure evil. ‘Oh,’ was the only syllable she could manage.

When he stuck his hand out, she stared at it like it was a viper. ‘I’m Marco Harper,’ he said as she slid her hand into his, intending for a brief handshake. He, however, took advantage of her trust, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. But danger brewed on the surface when her eyes narrowed.

Indi extracted her hand from his grip, now seeing him for the supposed charmer he thought himself. ‘Well, you best get back to your sleep Mr. Harper, since you obviously need it. I, however, have customers to attend to.’ She went to turn away and disappear out the other side of the wagon, but he grabbed her elbow.

‘Wait. Don’t I get at least a name?’ He smiled that melty smile again, and she shook her arm from his grip.

‘It’s Indi.’ She scowled at him.

‘Short for India I presume?’ he asked. ‘And a last name?’

Indi’s scowl deepened. ‘What is this? The national inquisition or something? I’ve got work to do you know!’

‘I know,’ he grinned, ‘but I haven’t. So how about we make polite conversation while you work hmm?’

Indi made a sound that was remarkably like a growl and retreated back into the wagon. However, when she came back out five minutes later with a tub of Agates, he was still standing there leaning against the counter and watching the customers who fought for her attention. He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes, switching to a sweet smile for the privilege of the customers as the day began.

‘Miss India! My wife has a baby due and-‘

‘India! Please, my son has an important job interview. Can you give me-‘

‘What do I need for-‘

‘What would be best for-‘

‘My husband-‘

‘What inspiration gem would you recommend-‘

‘I need help with concentration!’

‘What would improve my wealth?’

‘I need a lucky charm!’

On and on it went, people crowding up to the wagon, after this that and the other for every purpose under the sun. It went on for hours. Indi found herself being grateful of Marco, since he offered to help. At times, she would send him into the wagon, after a certain gem or crystal or to see if there were anything alternative to what the customer wanted. And she was amazed at his capability to work without complaint.

During one hour at twelve thirty, she pulled him inside during a quiet moment and told him to sit.

‘I’m taking a lunch hour,’ she explained as she brewed some tea. ‘Well, half hour. Want anything?

‘Tea would be great,’ he admitted. ‘I’m parched.’

‘Thanks for the help,’ she grudgingly said as she poured steaming hot water onto the leaves. ‘I think I might have struggled without it. This has been the biggest crowd so far.’ She shook her head, handing him his cup with a smile. ‘You were great. Most people would have killed themselves by now.’

Marco grinned. ‘I’ve got stamina,’ he said, bringing his cup to his lips gratefully.

There was a small silence in which they both drunk their tea, contemplating.

‘It’s Caillou,’ Indi came out with suddenly.

‘What?’

‘My last name. It’s Caillou.’ For some odd reason she blushed and stared at her cup. ‘It’s French for stone.’

‘India Caillou,’ he said, rolling the name around in his tongue and grinning. ‘Pretty.’

‘And Marco Harper. I gather you were the musician I heard last night when I arrived?’

‘Yup,’ he nodded, draining his tea and setting down the cup. ‘You heard me and my meal ticket.’

‘You’re really good,’ Indi praised, taking both cups and putting them in the sink. ‘What you played was beautiful. It was so enchanting. It made me think of what my life would be like if I was completely happy. What was it called?’

To her surprise, Marco shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess you could say that my music comes from the heart.’

‘That’s quite a skill,’ Indi marvelled. ‘Are you able to play the same tune more than once?’

‘Yeah, it just depends on my mood. If I’m feeling happy, cheerful tunes come into my head, but if I’m sad…Well, you can guess last night.’

‘Poor thing,’ she mused, beginning to wash the things. ‘Well, like I said, I’m grateful for your help. I should be fine from now on, but if there’s anything you want as a gratitude token…’ She waved her arm dismissively around her. ‘Take your pick. Or if you want money...'

Marco had approached her quietly, and had effectively trapped her with one arm braced on the counter either side of her. ‘I don’t want money.’

Indi turned around, intending to slap him, but found herself in an even more uncomfortable position. ‘Just what,’ she began shakily, ‘do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’d like to negotiate payment.’

Seeing his meaning, she shoved him painfully, and with surprising strength, away from her. ‘Well you aren’t going to get it. You’re such a typical man, won’t do anything unless there’s a profit at the end of it.’ She pushed the side door, regarding him with a cool look. ‘I’m grateful for your services Mr. Harper, and I’d be equally as grateful if you leave now.’

Marco threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘Bloody hell! Woman, I’ve never met one like you!’

She very nearly hissed at him. ‘Get out.’

Still chuckling, he descended the steps. ‘I’m going, I’m going.’ And surprised her even more, by giving her a small bow as he went. ‘India Caillou, I’ve never had more pleasure in talking to a woman. Farewell.’

He was gone, leaving a boiling Indi behind him. How dare he presume that she was just one of those stupid, stupid women that answered to men like him at their beck and call. Did he think that she was one of the most slut like women around? What a bastard! Annoying harpist. Musicians were always like that, she mused, ever so arrogant, so self absorbed, thinking they were god’s gift. She had come across many in her time, but he was the utmost worst of the worst.

It didn’t help that she had been intensely attracted to him at first. She had nearly dropped down dead when he had come over to her; the looks and voice completely throwing her system. And it was a good thing that she saw him for the arrogant git that he was in time, or else…Well, Indi shuddered at the thought of what might have happened. He was a complete imbecile, and from now on, she would go out of her way to avoid him.

But just before the next client arrived, something made her stop in her tracks. Marco was playing again, and it was exactly as haunting as last light, and it made the whole circle go still. Indi simply dropped the large chunk of rose quartz she was holding and threw open the side shutter.

A large crowd had gathered around Marco, but she could see him quite clearly, sitting cross-legged with the harp in his lap. His eyes were closed, but his graceful fingers strummed nonetheless, and she found herself sinking into that wonderful tune that floated in the air.

And then he began to sing.

Indi was paralysed with how sweet and resonant his voice was. Her hand dropped, boneless, from the shutter handle as she simply stared. That voice...It slid over her, through her, making her forget just what a bastard Marco Harper really was, infiltrating her brain until her eyes had widened to an almost impossible diameter in wonder. She had never heard anything as beautiful as the harp and his voice mingled together. They melded perfectly, like two streams joining together and flowing as easily as water.

She was entranced.

So entranced in fact, that she didn't notice him grinning at her for quite some time. When she did, it made her slack jaw snap shut to preserve her dignity. Narrowing her eyes, she despised him for having such a gift when he was such a twat. And Indi felt that the look she gave him transmitted that very well.

However, all he did was grin still, and to her utmost annoyance, blew her a kiss before he began on the next verse.

This time she did hiss, slamming her shutters closed. What a man! Arrogant, self centred... Oh, but it's voice was...amazing. And the music he made...god. Was there any girl alive who could resist against such a combination? She had to though, knowing what a stupid pervert that he was, knowing that underneath the all the artistic cover, there was a man. A man that was so obviously a womaniser.

And Indi had no time for people like him.

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The next few days passed by in a flurry of sales, sales and more sales. Business was excellent, made even better by the fact that Marco Harper had obviously given up trying to annoy Indi. Not that he hadn't tried.

'Hey Indi?' He'd asked one morning as she'd opened up. 'Need a hand again?'

She had just scowled and opened the other shutters, slamming the one he peered through right on his nose. She refused to speak to him after what had happened, staying firm to her theory that he was a complete waste of space.

Marco grew used to such activities, and his reaction was that of a very bored man. He would simply shrug, turn away and begin to play on his harp. And always, out of the corner of his eye, would he spy Indi simply gaping out of her wagon. But that gape turned into a stony glare, which made him laugh, every time he grinned at her. Marco now sung and played just for the evil joy of annoying her.

And now it was sunset, liquid gold dropping from the sky as quickly as sand from a timer. It was one of the most beautiful things in life, Indi mused as she locked up for the last time. Whatever happened to this world, there would always be a sunset on the horizon that people would marvel at, that people would stop and think how beautiful it was. Combined with Marco’s singing, which now drifted over the breeze towards her, this sunset was almost magical.

She battled with the cart poles, fixing them only after Dana had stopped dancing around. Securing straps, tying knots, she was just about set to make her leave. All the things were packed neatly so that the journey wouldn’t destroy them, the horse had been fed, watered and prepared, and all Indi’s possessions were completely secure. There was only one more thing that she felt needed to be done…

Curling her palm tightly around what she was carrying, she made her way over to Marco’s pitch.

He sat, his back to her, bent over a fire that he was attempting to light, unaware of her presence. He was humming to himself, occasional burst of song forming on his lips. It was only when she coughed lightly that he spun around in awareness.

‘Jesus,’ he breathed, wide-eyed. ‘You scared the hell out of me. What’s up?’

‘Nothing,’ she replied shortly. ‘I just came to say goodbye.’

‘Are you off then?’ Marco’s eyebrow shot into space as he peered over he shoulder, spying the loaded wagon. ‘You work fast.’

‘Yes, well…I’m going, but I just came to give you this.’ Grudgingly, she held out her clenched fist, dropping the gold set, orange and red gemmed bracelet into his palm. He looked at it with a mixture of bafflement and surprise.

‘What is it?’

‘A bracelet,’ she snapped.

‘I can see that,’ he chuckled, looking back up at her. ‘But these are gems. What do they do? And more importantly, why are you giving this to me?’

Indi fought against those sparkling eyes that glowed emerald in the dying light and that grin that made her knees weak. ‘It’s a gift of thanks. You annoy me, but you helped me out, and I’m grateful. It’s gold, for the male creativity, and the gems are fire agate and carnelian, good for inspiration. But this -‘ she handed him a pendant that was also gold, but a single light pink, white doilied stone hung from it. ‘-Is rhodonite. It helps the vocal cords.’ She managed a thin smile.

‘You think I need help?’

To her astonishment, his voice had become dangerous. ‘No, all I did was-‘

Marco rose slowly, and she found herself taking a step back. The light had faded from his eyes, leaving them cold and hard and his tongue harsh as he spoke. ‘I don’t need you to judge me. You don’t like my music, fine, but it’d be wise if you just walked away. I don’t need the advice of a merchant.’

That last word was so full of contempt that tears filled Indi’s eyes unbidden. And at the sight of them, Marco seemed to regain his sense.

‘Oh, god, no, Indi! I didn’t mean-‘

‘Forget it.’ She slapped his hand away as he reached for her. ‘I’m leaving. Goodbye Mr. Harper.’

‘Indi-!’

But it was useless. She had already turned tail and ran.