“He didn’t mean what he said,” said Flick as they made their way to the market.
“Aye, he did,” said Kyra. To be honest, she should have expected it sooner. Kyra had noticed a change in the children the past few times she’d come. The newer ones especially, the ones who didn’t know her as well, looked upon her with suspicion. They took her money, but they kept their distance. It couldn’t be helped, she supposed. She was there passing out bags of Palace coin. And as far as they knew, everything from the Palace was suspect.
“Do they say the same things to you, Idalee?” she asked.
“A few, but it in’t so bad,” said Idalee. “I’m not always spending time with the wallhuggers like—” She stopped.
“It’s fine. You can say it. I’m the only one who spends all my time with wallhuggers,” said Kyra. Ollie’s comment still rankled. “Everybody thinks that’s a problem. Either I’ve sold my self-respect for money, or I’m a love-struck victim waiting to be chewed up and spat out. Does everyone really think that badly of my judgment?”
Flick winced at her words. “It’s not a matter of judgment, Kyra,” he said. “My ma was a woman of good judgment.” He broke off abruptly. “Sorry. We’re done with that topic now. I promise.” Flick squeezed her shoulder apologetically. “I’m going to go track down a locksmith for some tools. Good luck with your traders.” He disappeared into the crowd.
“You should marry Flick, Kyra,” Lettie said as they looked after him.
Coming from anyone else, that comment would have rubbed Kyra’s already raw nerves, but Lettie looked so earnest that Kyra had to chuckle. She and Flick had been getting those types of comments since before he could grow a full beard, but Flick was too much like a brother to her. It would have been strange.
She bent down to Lettie’s level. “He’s far too good-looking for me, Lettie,” she said, her face a mask of perfect seriousness. “Everyone would stare at us and say, ‘What’s that handsome lad doing with a girl in trousers?’”
Lettie’s face scrunched up. “But you’re pretty, Kyra, even if your bosom in’t very big.”
Idalee had a sudden and very violent coughing fit.
“Thanks, Lettie,” Kyra said drily. Maybe next time she should just say that Flick belched too loudly. “Idalee, do you two have somewhere to be?”
“We need more wool for our dresses,” said Idalee.
“Off you go, then. I’ll see you back home.”
The marketplace was still getting set up. Vendors pushed their carts into place and raised awnings to block the sun. None of the actual sellers at the stalls were traders, but they were the first step to finding the caravans that supplied them.
Kyra sweetened a fishmonger’s opinion of her by buying a bag of smoked mussels, then asked if he knew where the caravanners stayed. He pocketed her coin and pointed her toward a large, boxlike storehouse a few streets away. It was not unlike the building that the Assassins Guild had once used for its headquarters. There were a few wagons hitched out front with rough-looking, travel-worn men and women walking amongst them. Kyra approached cautiously.
A tall man stood near the front gate, directing wagons in and out. He looked at her. “You with a caravan?”
Kyra shook her head. “No. But I’ve need of a Far Ranger to talk to. Are there any here?”
“Depends on what you mean by Far Ranger.”
“Someone who’s crossed the Aerins.”
The man squinted at her. “You looking to cause trouble?”
Kyra pressed a coin into his hand. “I’m just looking to chat. The Far Rangers have got their ear to the ground more than most.”