“Just around the corner.”
I squinted past the hustle and bustle, trying to see where the corner was. The street seemed to stretch on forever. My arms felt like they would fall off any second.
Lana glanced at me. “Here!” She waved at a passing witch with a cart full of crudely-made wagons. He pushed one down to her and proceeded through the crowd. Lana gave the wagon to me.
“Thank you,” I said, but she was already halfway down the street. I hurried behind her. A few men with scarred faces and wild beards were mixed in the rabble. I wasn’t eager to mingle with the likes of them.
Lana and I walked on for a minute or so before I saw the corner she was talking about. It opened up to a slightly wider street with a stone archway at the end of it, through which people were entering.
Humans, I noted. Not witches.
I wanted to peek in and see what lay beyond, but Lana stopped before an empty stand and set our crates onto the table. A piece of canvas was pulled over the top of four narrow posts, sheltering us from the strengthening sunlight.
“You may help me handle the wares and the payments,” Lana said.
I nodded and joined her behind the stand, seating myself on the hard bench.
“How long does the Market stay open?” I asked.
“All day, every day,” Lana said. Her eyes flicked to my wrist, where my bracelet of silver bells gleamed. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
I did. But I shook my head anyway. I would have to make up an excuse for Ash later.
A hunched, wrinkled woman approached us with a pole over her shoulder. Two large baskets hung from either end, reeking of fish.
“What have you got this time, Lana?” the woman croaked, squinting at the glass jars of antidote.
“Antidote for mild poisoning,” Lana said. “Works wonderfully if you’ve eaten bad seafood.”
The woman harrumphed. “Is that a jab at my fish, you old witch?”
I was both appalled and amused that someone had the guts to call Lana an old witch.
“Not at all, Nina,” Lana said. She smiled—actually smiled. “And what have you brought?”
“Fresh salmon from the river,” Nina said, reaching into her basket to pull out a limp fish the length of my forearm and thrice as wide. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Quite. Two for two?” Lana said.
Nina squinted at the jars, holding one of them up to her wrinkled face. The antidote gleamed prettily in the light.
“I would’ve suggested two for three but these seem useful. Very well, two for two it is,” the fisherwoman said. She pulled out two sheets of wax paper from her basket and wrapped the fish in each. Lana did the same for the antidotes and they exchanged their wares.
An hour passed and we had sold a good amount of our stock. In exchange, Lana got three heads of cabbage, a spool of twine, a hefty jar of honey, and five sticks of cinnamon. I loaded all this into the empty crates and set them on the wagon. By the time the sun was high in the sky, we were down to three jars of antidote.
“This was a particularly good day,” Lana said. “I hardly expected it.”
“Why not?” I asked. Lana seemed to have more than a few regulars.
“The Royal Guard has been preventing people from entering. There’s been several arrests, so I’ve heard.”
“Ah.” I thought back to the poor fellow who got thrown in prison after being accused of dabbling in witchcraft. Perhaps he just wanted some extra sticky glue.
The sound of horse hooves broke through the chatter. A cart rolled in through the arch, carrying a mass of something covered in a canvas sheet. The driver rolled to a stop near our stand. Judging from his skinny limbs and crooked stature, he was quite elderly. Despite that, he leapt nimbly onto an empty crate and struck a dented pot with a piece of wood. Witches approached the cart—many of them were smiling.
Lana was not.
“What is happening? And who is that?” I asked, glancing at the elderly man.
