We arrived at the same market I had passed through when I first arrived in the city. It was certainly fancier than the one in our little village square back home.
As well as the usual meat and fish and vegetables and flowers, it had a whole stall devoted to ornamental cages, some of which were filled with feathery creatures of all colors, and one to little jeweled collars for dogs, of all things. One stall even sold an assortment of cheap furnishings featuring the king’s familiar face—plates and tea towels and such.
There was nary a beggar to be seen. They probably gave them a kick and sent them rolling downhill if they dared to venture up this far.
I was surprised at the ordinariness of the sorcerer’s shopping—herbs and powders, twisted roots, even a bunch of evil-smelling flowers. He ambled between the stalls, seemingly oblivious to the stares and whispers, and I trotted along at his heels.
As he made his purchases, he stowed them away in his cloak pockets, and I came to realize that they were magically capacious, as there was no way they could hold such a bulky assortment of plants, herbs, and spice packets without spoiling the perfect line of the tailoring.
I don’t know what use I was, trailing after him, as he didn’t give me anything to carry, nor send me to fetch anything he needed. I suppose he just wanted to keep me from cleaning the House into oblivion. Or exploring it further while he was out and unable to keep an eye on me.
I became aware of a susurration in the crowd, and a wavelike movement as people drifted to either side of the market, clearing a path. I craned my neck to see what was coming and saw another one ofthem. The magic-workers.
The sorcerer came to a halt, and I went careening into his back. I clutched at the warm leather of his caped cloak for a moment to steady myself, and the warm spice of his scent rushed up at me and made me giddy.
I let go and stumbled back, stepping one foot into a puddle of mud, right up to the ankle. Lovely. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, fighting back the wave of adoration that muddled my head.
It was quite the sight. A sorceress with hair as golden and gleaming as a sweet wine, trimmed with expensive cloth and fine jewels, was riding something like a fancy rickshaw. The rickshaw was all decked out with shinies and curlicues as well. Of course. Pulling it was a youngish man, tall and gangly, but with wiry muscles visible on his bare shoulders and arms. He would need them, clearly, pulling that jewel-encrusted monstrosity around.
Why couldn’t she use a horse? I suppose it was to show off her power—to intimidate. I would have expected her servant to be straining and panting at the weight, but his face was oddly blank and rigid.
What surprised me most was that the crowd started to cheer as she passed—respectfully, no rowdiness or rude remarks. I heard, “Bless you, my lady!” more than once. Back home, we would have goggled and stared, of course, but silently—certainly no cheering, as we knew what they had come to us for.
Things were clearly different here. Children laughed and pointed with no fear, and the men and women gazed and smiled with not just the expected adoration, but with approval. I was used to seeing the magic-workers worshipped—butliked?That was a new one.
Sylvester hadn’t even looked up.
“It’s one of your lot,” I said.
He glanced her way. “So it is,” he said without expression.
She had spotted him too. He was hard to miss.She reached for a pair of reins—reins?She was really using reins on her servant?—and pulled on them, bringing the rickshaw to a halt. I could hear the tinkle of her bracelets as she lifted her hand, and her dress shivered and sparkled before settling, all those elaborate folds reacting to the movement.
I watched her servant come to a halt. His bare torso gleamed with sweat, but his face remained impassive. The jewel-encrusted reins linked to a collar around his neck, also elaborately decorated, so they seemed more for show—and humiliation?—than practical use. If he felt shame, though, he showed none. I could see nothing living behind his eyes.
As far as I could tell, no one in the crowd seemed surprised or outraged at the sight of him, as we would have been back home. A servant drawing a rickshaw for a fine lady, all right, but wearing a collar and reins? There would definitely have been some mutterings back in the village.
The people around us dispersed respectfully, muttering prayers or blessings as they departed and went about their business. I knew enough about the nature of people, however, to be sure that their attention was still fixed on us, even if they turned their backs and pretended to be absorbed in their shopping.
“Sylvester,” the sorceress greeted him. Her eyes flickered over me, widening just a little as they took me in. I was face-to-face with a sorceress, closer to one than I had ever been.
The word “dazzling” didn’t even come close. It was like looking into the blue heart of a fire or tasting a spice that set your mouth to burning. The perfection of her face hurt me; the symmetry sliced me open.
It would not matter who was behind that face—the most evil-minded, meanest, and most rotten-cored person could have been inside there, and it would not have mattered. I would have worshipped her all the same. Anyone would have.
“Clarissa,” said Sylvester. Of course she would have a name like Clarissa.
“I don’t often see you at the market,” she said, and a thread of judgment wove through her crystalline voice. “I am glad to see you out and about among the people.”
I stole a glance at the sorcerer. I’d never seen anyone less pleased to be out and about. “I needed more herbs,” he said shortly.
“You’ve been selling spells? Even better.” She seemed pleased, which made him glower even more.
“Go,” he said, turning to me. I blinked. Go where? Then I realized that, of course, they would want to speak alone, and embarrassment stung my cheeks. Dismissed, like the servant I was.
I swallowed down the ache in my heart as best I could and walked away, trying to look like it didn’t matter to me one way or the other. The bespelled part of me felt jealousy twist in my gut, even though he hadn’t seemed overly pleased to see the sorceress.
Well, it was a chance to look about for someone who seemed likely to have the knowledge I sought about retrieving my heart. I wasn’t going to accost just anyone.
