Chapter 8 Market Day for the Unranked
I promised Lyra I would come on the next market trip. Today I get to keep it.
We leave at dawn, the four of us plus Cali in a basket that Lyra rigged to hang from her pack.
The arrangement required negotiation. Cali wanted to be carried at chest height.
Lyra pointed out that chest height would block her vision.
They compromised on shoulder level, which Cali declared acceptable but undignified.
Suki stays behind to watch the house. She pressed her hand to mine before we left, her fox ears swiveling toward the treeline. No words necessary. She's still thinking about those tracks.
The road to Thornwick is muddy from yesterday's rain, and I'm grateful for my good boots. Luca walks beside Nella, pointing out every garden we pass. She keeps rejecting his suggestions for theirs. Apparently pumpkins would take up all her bean space.
Lyra catches my eye and smiles. Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing with familiar ease.
The market sprawls across Thornwick's central square when we arrive. Stalls crowd every available surface, vendors calling out prices and promises. The smell hits first: roasting meat, fresh bread, animal musk, and something sharp from the tanner's corner that makes Cali sneeze.
Cali sneezes over the edge of her basket. "Something died here."
I point past the fountain. "Fish stall."
Her head turns at once. "Take me there."
Lyra keeps walking toward the seeds. "It can wait."
Lyra pulls out her list. Seeds for Luca and Nella. Thin leather for repairs. Shield straps. A charm component I've been wanting.
"Seeds first." Lyra points toward a row of stalls near the fountain. "Then we can work our way around."
The seed vendor's stall is easy to spot, bright packets displayed in wooden racks, a heavyset man in a stained apron presiding over the display with proprietary satisfaction. Luca heads straight for the pepper seeds, Nella trailing behind with her eyes on the beans.
I'm examining a rack of herb packets when the vendor's voice cuts through the market noise.
"Hold on." The man steps around his table, positioning himself between Luca and the seed display. "Rank?"
Luca's hand drifts toward his shield before stopping. "Excuse me?"
"Your rank." The vendor folds his arms across his chest. "I need to know your rank before you buy."
Luca turns the packet over, as if a rank requirement might be printed on the back. "Why would that matter for seeds?"
The vendor's lip curls. "I don't sell to Unranked. Bad for my reputation. People see Unranked buying from my stall, they think my seeds are cheap goods."
Heat rises in my chest. I start to step forward, ready to explain exactly what an Archmage thinks of his reputation, but Luca speaks first.
"I see." His voice is calm. Completely, deliberately calm. "Thank you for clarifying your standards."
He turns his back on the vendor and walks to the next stall over, where a woman with grey-streaked hair is selling the same seeds at the same prices. Nella follows without a word, her jaw tight.
The first vendor sputters. "Now wait, I didn't say you couldn't look."
Cali rises from her basket, whiskers bristling. "You sell seeds. Stop acting important."
Several shoppers turn to stare. The vendor's face goes purple, mouth working on words that won't come.
Cali settles back into her basket with immense satisfaction. "Keep walking, Lyra. He might start talking again."
I catch up to Luca at the second stall. The grey-haired woman has already gathered his pepper seeds and is recommending a variety that tolerates cool nights.
"These are the milder ones." She turns the packet so Luca can read it. "Want those?"
Luca tucks the packet into his bag. His hands are steady, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
"You handled that well." I keep my voice low as Nella selects her beans.
He shrugs, not quite meeting my eyes. "People like that don't change their minds. You can only choose not to reward them."
There's old practice in the words. Six years of being dismissed, and he's learned how to walk away with his dignity intact.
The grey-haired vendor adds Nella's beans to the order and throws in a packet of herbs for free. "For your new garden. Good luck with it."
[Purchase canceled.No rank requirement on the next stall. Amazing how seeds work for everyone over there.]
We finish the seed shopping and drift toward the center of the market. Lyra spots a food vendor selling meat pies and fresh cider, and steers us toward a low stone wall near the fountain where we can sit and eat.
The pies are hot, the crust flaky, the filling rich with herbs I can't quite identify. Lyra tears off a piece of crust and offers it to Cali, who accepts with the air of a queen receiving tribute.
"These are better than Elena's." Lyra takes another bite and closes her eyes in appreciation. "Don't tell her I said that."
"Your secret dies with me." I lean my shoulder against hers, feeling the warmth of her through my sleeve. "Worth the walk?"
She answers by kissing me, quick and warm, tasting of cider and spiced meat. "Worth the walk."
Luca and Nella sit a few feet away, eating in comfortable silence. The tension from the seed vendor has faded, replaced by something easier. Nella points out a juggler performing near the fountain, and Luca watches with a faint smile.
We finish eating and split up to cover more ground. Lyra heads toward the records hall on the north side of the square. I want to check the charm vendor and the leather-worker before we leave.
The leather stall has what I need: thin sheets for patching, already cut to workable sizes, and a set of shield straps in good condition. The straps are adjustable, the buckles solid brass.
"For your friend?" The leather-worker nods toward Luca, who's visible across the square examining a display of garden tools. "His current straps look worn through."
I look across at the frayed strap against Luca's shoulder. "You could tell from here?"
"I notice leather." She wraps my purchases in oiled cloth. "These will last him years if he treats them right."
The charm vendor's stall sits in a quieter corner of the market, away from the main traffic. The woman running it reaches beneath the counter when I ask for moonstone dust.
"Ground fine." She measures a small pouch and ties it with black thread. "What's it for?"
"Experimental work." I tuck the pouch into my belt. "Trying to weaken an enchantment. I don't know if it will help, but the theory suggests it might."
She nods without pressing further. "Let me know if it works. Always interested in new applications."
I find Lyra emerging from the records hall with a folded paper in her hand.
"Found something?" I fall into step beside her.
"A certification with the same mark." She keeps her voice low as we walk. "Issued years ago, different region. The certifying official's name is Severin."
"Severin." I turn the name over. "Never heard it."
"Neither have I." She tucks the paper into her bag. "It's a legal copy. Not proof of anything, but it's the same mark that's on Luca's certification and yours. Could be coincidence. Could be a connection."
I glance at the paper before it disappears into her bag. "You think they're connected."
"I believe in patterns." She takes my hand. "This is a pattern. I don't know what it means yet."
We collect Luca and Nella near the garden tool stall. Nella has acquired work gloves that actually fit her hands, and Luca is carrying a small trowel with obvious satisfaction.
"The straps." I hand him the wrapped bundle. "Yours are about to give out."
He unwraps them slowly, running his thumb along the leather. "These are good."
"The leather-worker noticed your old ones from across the square." I watch him test the buckle mechanism. "Said these will last years."
His throat works. Such a small thing, a set of straps, but I understand what it means to have something that works, something that's yours, something that will hold.
He folds the straps into his bag instead of letting them brush the muddy ground. "Thank you."
"The records hall had a lead." Lyra addresses both of them, her voice careful. "A name. Severin. An official who signed a certification with the same mark as yours." She looks at Luca. "And Gregori's."
Luca's expression doesn't change, but his hand moves to his shield. "I don't know that name."
Nella stays quiet. Her fingers worry at the edge of her new gloves, but she doesn't offer information. I don't push. If she knows something, she'll share it when she's ready.
We start the walk home as the afternoon light begins to soften. Cali has fallen asleep in her basket, paws twitching with dreams.
We're half a mile from home when Suki meets us on the path.
Her ears are flat. Her eyes are hard.
"More tracks." She falls into step beside me, keeping her voice low. "From the usual observation point, but this time they came closer. Almost to the garden wall."
My stomach tightens. "When?"
"While you were gone. The Wall felt them approaching, started to move toward them. They retreated before it reached them." Her jaw is set. "These tracks were harder to find than the last ones. Whoever it is, they're learning where I look."
[Watcher unidentified.New tracks reported closer to Royal Health.The Wall drove them off. That does not tell you they are gone for good.]
I think about the footprints from the dinner. The pressed grass on the hill. Now this, tracks leading almost to our boundary before retreating.
They're getting bolder. And more careful at the same time.
Lyra's hand tightens on mine. Luca and Nella have gone quiet behind us, their earlier satisfaction replaced by watchful tension.
"Keep checking the perimeter." I meet Suki's eyes. "Vary your patrol times. Don't let them learn your patterns."
She nods and melts back toward the treeline.
Someone is watching Royal Health. Someone patient and persistent and increasingly interested in what we're doing here.
The question settles into my chest like a stone: what happens when watching isn't enough for them anymore?