“I told you already, I’m not leaving,” said Clemency firmly. “She’s my responsibility. So Char and Nick can go, but I’m staying with you.”
“Ya know, you really should know better’n that by now, Ven,” said Char. “But it’s important someone get the word to the inn—and get Ida home. She’s prolly fleeced the whole city of Kingston by now, and they’ll be lookin’ to hang her in the morning.”
“Nick, will you do that?” Ven asked, turning away from the dismal alleyway.
Nick sighed. “Sure, if that’s what you want. I’ll do my best to see if I can get someone back here before the Market closes. I’ll try the constable first, and if he won’t help, I’ll get to the inn as fast as I can. And then I’ll come back to town for Ida. She’s not supposed to meet us for a while, so I can’t take the time to look for her in Kingston.”
“Thanks,” Ven said. “Be careful on your way back across the floor, then head straight through the center of the town square until you get to the main gate. Don’t stop for anything.”
“Right. Stay together, you guys,” Nick said. He clapped Ven on the shoulder, then inched his way back through the bloodstains and the fallen axes until he got to the door. Then he waved one more time and disappeared into the color and noise of the Thieves’ Market.
The three remaining friends went down the back steps into the dreary part of the Outer Market past the First Row and onto the main street that ran north. Each of the side streets of this main road had signs—CUTPURSE ST., BURGLARS ROW, COIN RD., and the like. Even the alleyways were marked—FEVER LN., DARK A’WAY, PINCHER A’WAY.
As they walked, they passed many people, a few of whom had tokens around their necks. They were visiting shops and houses that were much seedier than anything in the bright market, their eyes darting around as if they wished not to be noticed. Children were more abundant here, running between the decaying buildings, playing hoop toss or tag, but none of them wore ribbons around their neck with the ticket out of the Gated City.
“Where do you even begin to look for a stolen person?” Clemency said aloud. “It would take us months, maybe even years, to look in every one of these places. She could be anywhere, Ven.”
A tattered old woman passing by stopped in the street next to them.
“Sorry, dearies, did I hear ye say you’d had somethin’ stolen?”
The children stopped. “Yes,” Ven said, unsure of the wisdom of doing so.
“Well, then, ya might try lookin’ in the Stolen Alleyway.”
The three children followed her finger with their eyes. She was pointing past a large, open well in the middle of the road to a dark side alleyway off the main street, where a thin vapor of mist appeared stuck between the buildings. At the opening of the alleyway there was a sign. STEAL A’WAY it read.
The old woman wiped her nose with the back of her tattered sleeve. “If yer looking fer somethin’ that was stolen, ya best check there first, laddie,” she said, her black teeth glistening in her mouth beside the holes where there were no teeth at all. “That’s the place where stolen things are sold.”
“Isn’t everything in a Thieves’ Market stolen?” Clemency asked.
The ragged woman drew herself up as tall as she could and snorted in contempt.
“That’s a lie,” she said angrily. “Not everyone in the Gated City’s a thief. Some of us’s just the kin o’ thieves from long ago. Many honest folk works here in the Market.” She seemed to reconsider her statement. “Well, maybe not many, but there’s some here and there. Now, git.” She shooed them away with her fingerless-gloved hands.
“I—I’m not sure about this,” Char said nervously. “That place looks even creepier than the rest of this creepy city.”
“Come on,” said Ven impatiently, starting for the alley. “We don’t have time to waste—if Saeli’s in there, we have to get to her before she’s sold. Let’s go.”
Clemency nodded and followed Ven, with Char catching up a moment later.
* * *
As soon as we stepped onto the sparse cobblestones of the Stolen Alleyway, I could understand why Char hesitated. It was almost impossible to see the buildings in the mist, but what I could see looked dark and abandoned, even in daylight. The street itself was winding, and curved off into the fog.
People were walking along the alleyway, stopping at the booths and tents that lined the street, just as they did in the circles in the square of Outer Market. But these shoppers were different. Unlike the people wandering the brighter parts of the Gated City, glancing at all the different wares, these people seemed as if they were looking for something specific. They also seemed much more nervous, much more desperate.
We understood how they felt.
* * *
The booths of this alleyway were not so brightly colored as the ones in the main streets. Instead of the carefully painted banners and the carved boothplates there were simple signs above each stall made from ragged gray cloth, each bearing the name of the goods offered, printed on them in ink.
Char and Clemency stopped in the middle of the street as Ven approached the first booth. He squinted to read the sign.
KISSES
Ven’s eyes moved down from the sign to the person sitting beneath it.
A white-haired woman, or what appeared to be a woman, grinned back at him toothlessly, the wart on her chin sprouting hairs as long as the ones on her head.
Ven backed away in alarm.
Clem grabbed his arm and led him deeper into the alleyway.
“Might want to avoid that one,” she said.
“Er—yes.” Ven coughed.
“This is the oddest place I’ve ever been, and I’ve been in some doozies,” Char muttered as they made their way past the huddled shoppers, looking at the strange booths and the signs above them.
“What can this possibly mean?” Clemency asked as she read more of the signs on the booths.
THOUGHTS
MOMENTS
GLANCES
“They’re all things that can be stolen, just like actual stuff,” said Ven, passing a gray rag banner reading DREAMS. “Stolen thoughts, stolen moments, stolen glances, stolen dreams—I’ve heard of all those things, but I never thought they could be resold.”
“Well, if you ever had a kiss stolen, you can go back an’ get it from her,” Char said, pointing over his shoulder at the booth where the warty old woman had been. “But she can have the one Lucy Dockenbiggle took off ’a me when I was nine, thanks anyway. I can’t believe anyone would buy that one—it was pretty awful.”
“Who is Lucy Dockenbiggle?” Clemency asked.
“Keep moving,” said Ven under his breath. “I don’t think we want to linger long here.”
They continued down the Stolen Alley, past signs for YOUTH, KNOWLEDGE, IDENTITY, and TIME. Some of the booths were empty, while others had a single person sitting within them, waiting for customers. Ven slowed down for a moment in front of one reading SHIRTS. Within the drapes of that stall they could see shirts of all sizes and colors hanging, flapping gently in the foggy breeze.
“This one doesn’t make sense to me,” he said, coming to a halt. “Shirts? What is this doing in the Stolen Alleyway? Shouldn’t it just be in the Outer Market with all the rest of the goods?”
“No,” Char said, tugging at his arm. “Haven’t ya never heard of someone losin’ his shirt? It means he got taken for everything he had . I don’t think we want to be near this booth especially.”
“Yes, my guess is that the residents of this place could steal the shirts from our backs and we might not even notice,” added Clemency. “Keep moving.”
“I only see three more booths anyway, and no sign of Saeli,” said Ven anxiously. “It was probably a mistake to come here.”
They hurried down to the end of the alleyway, passing booths for stolen IDEAS and FUTURES, until they came to the last stall on the street. The ratty gray sign read
CHILDHOOD
“Saeli!” Ven shou
ted, looking up and down the street. His word seemed to be almost instantly swallowed; it did not echo as it should have.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Clem, glancing around. “She must be somewhere else. I think we should look for a flower seller—that’s the kind of person who might make use of a Gwadd.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Char urged. “I wanna go back to the normal part of the market, where everyone is just a thief looking to take your money. This place is givin’ me hives.”
Ven nodded, and turned to head back out the way they came. Just as he did, he and the other children heard a soft female voice behind them call out.
“Char!”
The three turned around in shock.
There was no one in the street looking their way, just the same shoppers with their heads down, their eyes averted, milling through the alleyway toward the booths they sought.
“Saeli?” Char called.
“Over here,” replied the voice. It was coming from within the last booth, the one labeled CHILDHOOD.
“Saeli!” Ven shouted again, as the three ran toward the booth.
Just as they came to within a few feet of it, the drape in front was pulled back. Inside the booth was a young woman with dark eyes and hair, and a bright, warm smile. Her eyes never glanced at Clemency or Ven, but rather went directly to Char. Her smile widened.
“Char,” she said. Her voice was soft and warm in Ven’s ears.
Char’s face was as white as snow.
“How—how do you know my name?” he stammered.
* * *
I thought back to something McLean once told me when he called me by name even before being introduced to me. He said that once I had spoken my name in the inn it was on the wind, and could be heard by Storysingers and other people who know how to listen to what the wind hears.
The young woman in the booth might have been part Lirin, though she seemed very human. Perhaps she was a Singer, but my guess was that she was not. Singers take an oath to always tell the truth, and I had my doubts that anyone in this alleyway could have ever made good on that promise.
* * *
The young woman looked for the first time at Ven, then at Clemency. Then she shook her head.
“No, I’m sorry, I have nothing for you two,” she said briskly. “You must both have had happy childhoods—or acceptable ones.” Her attention returned to Char. “But you, now—you were robbed of yours fairly early, weren’t you, Char?”
Ven glanced at his friend. Char was trembling violently.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking him by the shoulder.
“Wait!” said the young woman quickly. “If you leave now, Char, you may never get the chance to find it again.”
Char’s eyes were focused straight ahead. He shrugged off Ven’s hand and walked slowly up to the booth.
The woman within the stall smiled again. She reached under the counter and pulled out a tiny glass box with a purple oval stone set in the top.
“How—how much?” Char asked, his voice shaking.
“Char—don’t,” Ven said, but his words seemed to be swallowed again by the mist in the alley.
The woman’s smile grew brighter, and her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “For the whole box—one thousand gold crowns,” she said sweetly.
Char’s face went slack. “I—I don’t have that kind of money,” he whispered. “I prolly won’t see that much in my whole lifetime.”
The woman nodded. “Some people are willing to spend everything they gain in a lifetime to recapture their lost childhoods,” she said. Her voice was smooth as caramel candy. “That’s a high price to pay. But for a single gold piece, I would be willing to let you see a moment of yours.”
“I—I—”
“Leave him alone,” said Ven angrily. “You’re a cheat and a charlatan! Nobody can buy back childhood. Come on, Char, let’s get out of this place.”
“Shut up!” Char snapped; his eyes were glowing with interest and fear. He fumbled in his pockets and produced the single gold piece the moneychanger had given him, then held it out, his hand quivering, to the young woman.
Her hand shot out quickly, like all the other hands of the sellers in the market, and snagged the coin. Then she slid the box with the purple stone forward on the counter.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Have a peek.”
Slowly Char took hold of the top of the box and raised it.
Ven looked inside. There was nothing in it, just a velvet lined bottom the color of a cloudless sky.
“You tricked him,” Clemency accused. “Give him back his gold piece.”
The woman’s smile grew brighter still. She looked at Char, who was staring into the box, his eyes glistening.
“Do you want your coin back, Char?” she asked, amused.
“No!” Char gasped, his voice harsh. “Shhhhhh.”
* * *
I have no idea what he was looking at. The box was empty; I could tell from Clem’s expression that she was seeing it the same way I was. But Char continued to stare into it, his eyes gleaming, until the young woman slammed the top down. Then he looked as if he had been slapped across the face.
* * *
“That’s all one gold piece buys you, I’m afraid,” she said to Char regretfully. “But you can take it if you want.”
She opened the box again. Char reached in quickly, and pulled his hand back as she closed the top again, gently this time.
“I—I could work for it,” Char said. Ven was alarmed by the intensity in his voice. “I can cook, an’ I have experience as a deckhand—”
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose we could arrange something like that.”
“No! Char, snap out of it!” Ven shouted, shaking his roommate by the arm. With Clem’s help he dragged Char, struggling, away from the table, away from the woman with the warm, black eyes, down the street of the Stolen Alleyway, and back into the bright light of the late afternoon in the open air of the Outer Market.
Ven did not stop until he had reached the well in the center of the street. He pushed Char down onto the well’s rim, then hauled up a bucket and splashed the water from it in his friend’s face.
“What happened?” he asked as Char shook his head, spattering drops of water everywhere. “What did you see in that box?”
Char looked down at the cobblestones of the street.
“I can’t explain,” he said finally. “Happy times, the warm grass—maybe a picnic. Images of things in my memory that didn’ make no sense at the time, and don’t now. But they were real; she wasn’t fakin’ me. Especially this.” He opened his hand.
In it was a red glass bead.
“I remember this,” Char continued. “I’m not sure how, but I remember being held and playing with this. Maybe a whole string of ’em.” He turned the bead over in his hand. “And the smell of lemon and roses. I remember that still, too. Whoever was holdin’ me smelled like lemon and roses.”
“Did you see anyone’s face?” Clem asked.
Char shook his head.
In the distance, near the main gate, a bell clanged harshly.
All around them, the visitors to the Gated City looked up, checked the tokens around their necks, and began finishing up their shopping.
“That’s the warning bell,” said Clemency, looking nervous. “One hour, and the city closes for a whole week.”
“We can’t abandon Saeli here,” said Ven. “She’ll never get out on her own. We have to keep looking.”
“There’s no way Nick made it back to the inn already,” added Char. “And even if he did, no one’s gettin’ back here before those bloody gates close.”
“Where do you suppose the constable is?” Clem asked as a group of shoppers stopped for a drink at the well before heading to the gates.
“Feedin’ whoever’s in the jail supper about now,” said Char. “He’s not comin’ in here. He’s got no authority here, anyway.”
“I hope he’s not feeding Ida,” said Cl
emency. “If she got arrested for stealing, that would just make our day perfect.”
Ven ran his hand over his chin, stopping to rub the single whisker on it.
“She’s not in jail,” he said. “She only gets caught when she wants to.” His head began to itch fiercely. “You know, maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe when she said she knew her way around the Gated City, she was telling the truth.”
“Well, that would be a first,” muttered Char. “You think a street kid with no money has been inside a market that costs ten gold crowns to get inside ‘a bajillion times’?”
“Maybe not a bajillion,” said Ven. “But maybe once. I don’t know—it doesn’t make sense, but there’s no harm in trying at this point. For the next hour we need every pair of eyes that we can get.”
“I’ll go get her.” Clem stood up and pulled Char up from the well’s edge with her. “I can be back in fifteen minutes. I know all her favorite hunting grounds in Kingston.” She held up Saeli’s lost token. “I’ll need to use this to get her in, so we may have some trouble getting everyone out. But we can jump off that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, you two keep looking for Saeli. We’ll meet by the soup pumpkin in the market square.”
“Go,” Ven agreed. His gaze wandered to the ladders that led to the streets in the air. “I think maybe we need to be looking at things from a new angle.”
14
The Skywalk
* * *
We walked Clem as far as the center of the square in the bright Outer Market. We could see her get all the way to the gate from there, which made Char and me feel a little bit better. We had been told over and over again to stick together, and all we had done was split up. I wanted to make certain Clem at least got out, and didn’t get stolen as well.