“Come on,” he whispered, and I thought I caught a tremor in his voice. “We’re not going far, but we have to hurry. The Market keeps its own hours, and if we don’t reach it in time, it will disappear.”
A wild howl rang out of the darkness, and we looked back at the crowd. The Winter fey had gone back to their partying as if nothing had happened, but there was a meaner, desperate edge to their revels now, as if the promise of war had only whetted their appetite for blood. A pair of redcaps and a hag squabbled over the body of the dead goblin, and I turned away before I was sick. Ash took my hand and pulled me on, into the shadows.
WE FLED THROUGH the city, keeping to the shadows and darkness, somehow avoiding the mobs in the street. At one point, we very nearly tripped over a redcap exiting a hole in the wall. The creature snarled an insult, but then its beady eyes widened in recognition and it turned to shout a warning instead. Ash gestured sharply, and an ice dagger thunked into the creature’s open mouth, silencing it forever.
We reached a circular courtyard on the banks of a huge underground lake, mist writhing off the water to drift along the ground. Colorful booths and tents stood empty as we passed through, flapping in the breeze like a dead, abandoned carnival. An enormous white tree stood in the very center, bearing fruit that looked like human heads. A narrow door was embedded in the thick trunk, and Ash quickened his pace as we approached.
“The Market is through here,” he explained, pulling me behind the tree as an ogre lumbered past, its steps slow and ponderous. “Now, listen. Whatever you see in there, don’t buy anything, don’t offer anything, and don’t accept anything, no matter how much you want it. The vendors will try to make a deal with you—ignore them. Keep silent, and keep your eyes on me. Got it?”
I nodded. Ash opened the narrow door with a creak and led me inside, shutting it behind him. The interior of the trunk glowed softly and had a putrid sweet smell, like decaying flowers. I looked around for another door or way out, but the trunk was empty except for the door we came in.
“Stay close,” Ash whispered, and he pushed the door open again.
Noise exploded through the doorway. The circular courtyard now thronged with life; the booths overflowed with merchandise; music and faery fire drifted through the night, and fey milled about in huge numbers, buying, talking and haggling with the vendors. I shrank back against the trunk, and Ash gave me a reassuring smile.
“It’s all right,” he said, leading me forward again. “In the Market, no one questions why you’re here or where you came from. The only thing they’re concerned about is the deal.”
“So, it’s safe, then?” I asked, as a faery with a wolf’s head stalked through the crowd, carrying a string of severed hands. Ash chuckled darkly.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
We joined the throng who, despite the jostling, shoving and snarled insults, paid us little attention. Unearthly vendors stood beside their booths or tents, crying out their wares, beckoning to passersby with long fingers or claws. A warty goblin caught my eye and grinned, pointing to his display of necklaces made of fingers, teeth and bones. A hag waved a shrunken pig’s head in my face, while a hulking troll tried handing me some kind of meat-on-a-stick. It smelled wonderful, until I noticed the crispy bird and rat heads stuck on the kebabs between other unidentifiable chunks, and hurried after Ash.
The oddities continued. Dream catchers made of spider silk and infant bones. Monkey Paws and Hands of Glory. One booth had a prominent display of still-beating hearts, while the tent beside it offered flowers of delicate spun glass. Everywhere I looked, I saw wonders, horrors, and the just plain weird. The vendors were incredibly persistent; if they caught you looking, they would leap in front of you, shouting the marvels of their wares and offering “a deal you can’t refuse.”
“A few locks of your hair,” cried a rat-faced imp, holding out a golden apple. “Be young and beautiful forever.” I shook my head and hurried on.
“A memory,” crooned a doe-eyed woman, waving a glittering amulet back and forth. “One tiny memory, and your greatest wish will be answered.” Yeah right. I’d done the whole memory thing before, thank you. It wasn’t pleasant.
“Your firstborn child,” quite a few of them wanted. “Your name. A phial of your tears. A drop of blood.” With every offer, I just shook my head and hurried after Ash, weaving my way through the crowds. Sometimes, a glare from the Ice prince would cower the more persistent vendors who followed us through the aisles or latched on to my sleeve, but mostly we just kept moving.