Shortening Nipper’s lead, I move through the tables with my head bowed to avoid the notice of overeager vendors. When a not-so-lovely-smelling flower wafts in my face, I sneeze, and a few tables down, I wince when the scent of fresh vanilla pods tricks my senses into thinking that Meredy is nearby.
I lead Nipper toward the far end of the market, drawn to the smaller crowds and a sense of quiet. Clouds of dust and pollen dance lazily in beams of sunlight streaming in through the sides of the last few tents, and Nipper flicks her tongue at them.
“You there.” The gentle rasp of an older man’s voice forces me to look up. His shoulders are hunched, perhaps from the weight of carrying so many years, and his dark clothing covers everything but his head and his gnarled, waxy hands.
I pull Nipper to a stop—she’s more interested in the rosesbehind me than this old man’s display of carved stones, copper dragon statues, and jewelry boxes.
“Can I help you?” I ask, my free hand trailing over my heart as I check to make sure my master necromancer’s pin is still stashed with my things at the boarding house.
The old man’s smile is gentle. “I believeIcan helpyou.” He reaches toward a small cabinet on one end of his table, turning it so its glass front faces outward. Inside is a large chunk of pale blue crystal, a little bigger than my fist. Nodding to Nipper, he adds, “You look like a lady who’s interested in the rarer things in life. Dare I say—the priceless things?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. This guy wants all my gold for some stone? “Sorry, but no thanks. You picked the wrong girl to swindle today.” I turn to leave.
“I see. So you’ve never lost anyone?” The man doesn’t raise his voice, but it somehow carries.
I glare at him, thinking of Evander, Master Cymbre, and Master Nicanor. I’m even afraid I’ve lost Meredy, in a way, but he doesn’t need to know any of that.
He continues to press. “There’s no beloved spirit you wish you could speak to without ever having to set foot in the Deadlands? No absent voice you’ve been longing to hear?”
I pause and turn back to him, shivering despite the sunlight pouring into the tent. We seem to be alone in here now, except for Nipper and two other vendors who have already started packing up for the day.
Thinking of Evander, Master Cymbre, and Master Nicanor, whose spirits would have simply disappeared after their untimely deaths, I say firmly, “No. No one I love is in the Deadlands, and that’s the truth.”
“You’ve lost someone with blue eyes, then,” the man says quickly. “Someone whose spirit you’ve feared you could never reach. Well, with this, you can.”
As I watch from the corner of my eye, he picks up the pale blue crystal. “This was stolen—not by me, of course—from the Temple of Rella, and infused with the magic of one of her priestesses.” He cradles the crystal against his chest almost reverently. “It will allow you to talk to any spirit, even those who don’t move on to the Deadlands after their body dies, and hear their voice as clearly as if they were standing beside you...” He lets the words trail away, no doubt for effect, then adds, “If you can afford it, that is.”
I stare at the crystal, trying to keep my face blank. It’s probably just a hoax. Some junk this man sells to tourists, drawing them in with his little story about Sarral’s death goddess. But I’d give up all my gold and more for the slightest chance to talk to Evander, even one last time. For another chance to memorize his laugh, and to hear that he still loves me, too, after everything I’ve done.
“How much?” I say, feigning boredom by picking dirt from under my thumbnail.
The old man looks hopefully at Nipper.
“Not a chance.” I pull the dragon closer. For the first time, I realize just what having Nipper beside me means: I have a companion again, one I can rely on, and that’s even more important now that Meredy seems content to pretend I don’t exist. “You can’t sell me anything that’s worth a life.”
The old man’s eyes harden. “Fine,” he grumbles, clinging to the crystal as though he thinks I’ll snatch it away without paying. “Make me another offer, then.”
When all is argued and negotiated, I’ve barely got enough money left to buy a couple of cheese-covered snacks to share with Nipper.
As we amble back toward the busier part of the market, a hot feeling of shame spreads up my neck and face. I just spent a good portion of my savings on a lame stone. I don’t even know if it does anything, let alone what the old man swore it could. Glad it’s hidden in a bag, I vow not to tell anyone what I’ve done.
There’s no way the crystal works, besides. If there was some chance I could talk to Evander, I’d have heard of it before now. Or would I? I hadn’t heard of dragons until we landed in Sarral. Still, if it really worked, wouldn’t this old man be rich by now, not haggling in the back of a market with people who might not have a copper to their name?
By the time I hurry back to the opposite end of the market to return the blasted thing, the old man is gone, along with all his wares.
I slam my fist on the empty table.
He’s probably at a tavern right now, raising a glass to the foolish girl who just paid his wages for the next few years.
***
I’m not the only one who stays quiet on the ride back to the coast the next day. Azelie’s silence is much stranger than mine, as she normally never shuts up, but today she just sits in the back of the cart beside Nipper, looking thoughtfully down at her milk-white spirit orchids wrapped in paper. I suspect the gray sky, which reminds me of the ruined valley, has something to do with her mood—unless she, like me, was an idiot and spent all her money on a crystal that came with a good story.
“Kasmira said she wants to leave Sarral as soon as you’re back, provided the repairs are finished,” Azelie murmurs as the city of Skria Flor becomes a blur on the horizon behind us, still gazing down at her flowers. “That could be as soon as tomorrow.”
The reminder makes my shoulders tense. “I’m not surprised” is all I manage to say. Kasmira always gets restless quickly, but I like it here. I don’t want to think about leaving right now. I especially don’t want to think about facing Meredy and her sudden coolness toward me again so soon. What will sharing our too-small cabin on the ship be like when she’s so determined to ignore me?
“I’m going to miss you,” Azelie adds, drawing my attention back to her. “The older healers never talk to me this much. And your life issointeresting.” A shadow of a grin crosses her face. “Assuming it’s still standing after the Ezorans have their way with it, do you think you’ll ever come back to—?”
