Stain didn’t mind not catching anyone’s eye. Being mistaken for an unkempt boy had fooled whoever dropped her in this wasteland to die and gave her an advantage, should she ever discover who they were.
Stain hurried past the first five booths where edible fares waited for purchase. The scent from Brannigan’s Breads and Cookies made her mouth water. The booth’s banner was a golden loaf stitched in thread upon a blue swatch of cloth. Her meager breakfast had left a hole in her belly, but she hadn’t time nor payment for filling it. Contrary to past bartering tasks, Luce hadn’t given her any gold, sterlings, or coppers—the three forms of payment preferred by the retailers.
Today her pouch held one item alone, vendible only to a particular recipient. Haggling without traditional currency added another challenge alongside having no voice. Luce maintained that her limitations needn’t limit her; that by using her mind and listening skills, the observations she’d garnered of each shopkeeper’s personal interests over the years could make her the wisest diplomat in the marketplace.
Now Luce was putting her to the test.
“Fresh sugar cookies, little sprout.” Puppy-eyed Brannigan’s yipping voice taunted her. The baker had once bred greyhounds for a nobleman in Eldoria, before he’d been caught racing them illegally to line his own pocket. Since then, he served the lowest of the low, adapting recipes he’d used for dog biscuits. Surprising how good they were. “Two sterlings for a dozen. Have some silver weighing down your bag?”
She averted her gaze, moving onward as three more booths passed in her peripheral. One was a candy shop with elaborate white-and-red peppermints twisted in the shape of skeletons. Blood and Crème Confections was run by a bald, cross-eyed butcher known only by the name Vice. He’d lost his business after stocking his meat hooks with his murdered partner’s remains. Then came a cheese-and-liquor stand under the keep of Alyse, a portly woman who held a steady discourse with her two dairy cows tied alongside the booth—selling only to whom they approved. Next stood an herb dispensary owned by a woodland dwarf named Winkle, who, after being cast out of the castle as the royal ratcatcher some years ago (he’d offended the king’s sister by chasing a rat into her chambers where it scampered across her bare feet), now pilfered wares from village gardens by disguising himself as a large rabbit.
Stain paused at Edith’s Edibles, where dried vegetables and fruits, salted meats, fried mealworms, and honey-glazed beetle larvae were the specials. Some might cringe at the menu, but tastes varied as much as people’s appearances. Old Toothless Edith knew this better than anyone, having worked for the royal kitchens some thirty years ago, until she and the finicky princess had a falling out. Edith was caught incorporating less than savory ingredients into Princess Glistenda’s breakfast for spite, and was thrown into the dungeon and plucked of all her teeth for her trouble. After serving a five-year sentence, she came here to stay, deeming herself too ugly to face the world again.
Stain glanced down the line where Luce leaned inside Crony’s booth, forearms relaxed atop the counter. No mistaking the expression on his celestial face: Get to it then.
Soon the walkway would be crowded with shoppers, and bartering options would dwindle. Stain’s nose crinkled and she eyed all twelve booths. Luce had given her a difficult puzzle: only one piece to start with, and five chances to grow it. Her end goal was to purchase a special item from Dregs—Luce had already specified what it should be, and it was something the hoarfrost goblin wasn’t likely to part with for cheap. Unless she could find the perfect payment with which to negotiate . . . something Dregs couldn’t resist.
A half smile tugged at Lyra’s lips. There it was, displayed on a shelf at Percival’s Frills and Footgear—a prize Dregs would desire with all his frosted little heart. Now to bargain her way to it. That’s how the game of diplomacy and barters was played.
She opened her pouch’s flap. Inside was an enchanted handheld mirror that could make a person see either their inner beauty, or if they had none, their demons. It was from Crony’s stash—one of many magical tokens stolen off corpses over the centuries. Stain hated to let it go; many a time she’d held it up for herself at home.
She did so now, standing directly beneath a lightning-bug lantern to watch the transformation only she could see in the reflection: a rag-tag boy becoming a girl with long silver hair and luminous moon-kissed skin—free of scars or smudges.
Shaking her head, she chided herself and tucked the mirror away again. She’d once told Scorch what she saw in the mirror. He had threatened to crush it beneath his hooves, telling her that entertaining perfect, pretty fantasies would make her weak and gullible.
This looking glass would mean nothing to a goblin, as the magic worked only on people; that’s why Luce had chosen it. To make Stain think . . . who would be most tempted by such a prize? She turned back to Edith’s Edibles and stepped forward.
Edith’s gummy smile greeted her—a gaping hole of slime and empty sockets amidst a wrinkled saffron complexion.
“Mornin’, boy. Thomthin’ caught your eye on my shelvth?” A whistling lisp edged her words, a flaw that made her reluctant to speak. But with Stain, who couldn’t even make a sound, Edith felt comfortable enough to be herself without fearing ridicule.
Stain nodded, pointing to a jar labeled: Cow Cud Crackers. The snacks were as repulsive as they sounded—flat, misshapen, and the greenish-black of tobacco spittle. True to their name, the main ingredient was predigested balls of food taken from the mouths of cattle on the way to slaughter. Stain couldn’t imagine who, other than a cow, would wish to eat such a thing, but it was that very logic that made this the ideal wage for her next stop.
“They be five copperth for a dollop,” Edith insisted, her small eyes sharpened. She hadn’t moved toward the jar yet, obviously noting that Stain’s pouch didn’t jingle as she wrested it open. “Ya ain’t got the meanth to pay, boy. Go bribe your keeper for coinage.” She jerked her thumb toward Luce, who was still watching. He tipped his head Edith’s direction, delivering a seductive smile. Stain had watched that expression put many a woman in dizzy, happy stupors for days.
Edith, to the contrary, choked back an embarrassed grunt and bowed her head, shoulders hunched, as if she wished to crawl beneath her booth’s counter. Her reaction made this exchange all the more gratifying, knowing it would bring the old woman some happiness.
Just as Edith turned to Stain with “No money, no deal,” on her tongue, Stain held up the mirror, aiming the reflective surface her direction.
A soft flash of light bounced across Edith’s face, indicating the glass clearing, then a moment of disbelief before Edith’s jaw dropped and her graying eyebrows lifted. She touched her cracked lips, tracing a smile. Blissfulness softened the sad lines around her eyes. “Ith that . . . me?” She reached for the handle but Stain pulled back, pointing to the crackers and then the mirror.