I duckedunder a string of glowing crystals, their pale blue light casting shadows across the cramped stalls of the Hollow Market. Click chittered from his perch on my shoulder, his brass tail ticking against my collarbone with each mechanical swing. The sound blended with the general chaos, haggling voices, the hiss of steam vents, the distant clang of metal on metal from the forges below.
“Easy,” I murmured, reaching up to scratch under his chin. His scales were warm beneath my fingers, and he butted his head against my palm before settling.
Kora walked half a step behind me, close enough that I knew she was there, but far enough away to watch my back. We’d been doing this dance for years now, ever since we were teenagers sneaking our first haul past the Assembly’s guard posts. She knew how to move through a crowd without drawing attention, how to keep her hand near the blade hidden in her boot, and how to read a room for threats.
“Three stalls down,” she said quietly. “Varek’s there.”
I didn’t turn to look. “How’s his mood?”
“Probably foul as ever.”
“Perfect.”
The market sprawled through the old mining tunnels beneath the Merchant Quarter, a warren of passages that the Assembly had declared unstable and off-limits two decades ago. Which made it ideal for people like us, people who dealt in things the Assembly didn’t approve of. Unsanctioned anchors mostly, and artifacts from dead realms that could be salvaged and re-sold. Everything that could get you thrown in the Dredge if you weren’t careful.
The air tasted metallic, tinged with the scent of unregulated elemental magic. Someone was running a fire forge nearby, and the heat pulsed through the tunnel in waves. I could see the orange glow reflecting off the rough-hewn walls, making the embedded crystal veins shimmer. It was a small miracle that whoever was running the illegal forge hadn’t been sniffed out by the Assembly guards yet.
Click’s claws tightened on my shoulder as we passed a stall selling what looked like parts from a dismantled skiff. Probably stolen. The vendor, a woman with fire magic tattoos spiraling up her arms, watched us with flat eyes but didn’t call out. She knew better than to hassle customers who looked like they had a destination in mind. Fire made Click nervous. I’d found him in a forested realm years ago, and while he loved the warm climate of the Prime Realm, he hated fire magic.
“Juno,” Kora’ warned.
I followed her gaze and spotted the Assembly guard near the entrance to one of the side tunnels. He wore the standard black uniform with brass buttons, and his hand rested on the hilt of an air baton. Not uncommon. The Assembly liked to remind everyone that even at Hollow Market, they were watching.
But this guard was too focused, his eyes scanning the crowd with purpose rather than boredom.
“Looking for someone,” I said.
“Not us, I hope.”
“When is it ever us?”
Kora snorted. “Do you want that list chronologically or alphabetically?”
“Alphabetically sure does sound more impressive.”
We moved past the guard without incident, though I felt his gaze track us for a few seconds too long. My hand drifted to the pendant hidden beneath my shirt, feeling the familiar shape of the anchor crystal through the fabric. Black as the void between realms, shot through with pinpricks of light that looked like trapped stars. My father had made it for me on my sixteenth birthday, back when I’d been naive enough to think scavenging dead realms was an adventure rather than a necessity.
Now I knew better.
I didn’t wear the crystal on the outside of my clothing, keeping it tucked away from the eyes of the guards who could ask me for my registration at any time, and seeing as my crystal was indeed illegal, I avoided it at all costs.
Varek’s stall occupied a prime corner position where two main tunnels intersected. The old bastard had been running this spot for as long as I could remember, selling everything from rare elemental crystals to questionable tonics that claimed to cure everything from heartache to hair loss. Most of it was garbage, but Varek had connections throughout the city’s underworld, which made him valuable.
He looked up as we approached, his weathered face creasing into a greedy grin. “Juno Farren.” He dragged out my name unnecessarily. “And the lovely Kora Teller. Come to grace my humble establishment?”
“Humble.” Kora crossed her arms. “That’s a new word for overpriced and highly questionable.”
Varek’s smile widened. I leaned against the stall’s support beam, careful not to disturb the precariously stacked merchandise. Click scuttled down my arm and perched on the counter, eyeing a jar of preserved something-or-other with interest, his forked tongue tasting the air.
“I need to move some items,” I said. “Interested?”
Varek’s watery eyes narrowed. “What kind of items?”
I pulled a small cloth bundle from my satchel and unwrapped it on the counter. Three crystal fragments, each no bigger than my thumb, glowing with a soft amber light, and an antique brass astrolabe that remarkably still worked. The crystals were rough-cut raw material from a collapsed fire realm called Veil’Sheerah. Rare, valuable, and completely illegal to possess without Assembly documentation.
Varek picked up one of the fragments, holding it to the light. The glow intensified, casting warm refraction across his pocked and lined face. “Quality,” he murmured. “Verynice. Where’d you pull these?”
“Does it matter?”
