“Get a medicine woman to look at that when you get back to the city, and you’ll be fine,” I say as I snag the axe up off the ground. “After a few months, anyway.”
Oxel just releases a stream of ugly names that would make even Hodges blush.
“What’s the matter, Oxel?” I call back to him as I start jogging toward the riverbank, stowing the axe in my satchel. “Aren’t you enjoying the game anymore?”
My anger is still as taut as the string of my bow, but I try to swallow the rage down. It won’t do me any good. Besides, Oxel was right. Every prize, every piece of coin, has a price, whether it’s blood or sweat or fear.
And I’ll pay it all if it means buying my freedom.
Chapter 2
Leah
“I’ll give you five strats for it,” says the dealer, stroking his full beard.
“Come on, Tivolt, it’s worth ten at least!” Hodges argues, leaning in closer to Tivolt’s stall as a man pushes past us carrying a cage of colorful birds. One of them clicks its beak against the bars, its yellow-ringed eye surveying me.
“I’ve had four vials of demon blood already today,” Tivolt replies. “Unless the price is right, I don’t need more. Now, if you had some of the silver stuff…” He holds out his hands to indicate that would be a different matter. “Ephilium blood’s the hotter commodity lately.” Hodges murmurs quiet complaints under his breath but still accepts the five coins Tivolt offers with a begrudging nod. The dealer quickly ushers us away when a group of well-dressed, masked customers come along. Most decent people pretend they’ve never been to the market at the Three Bridges, but the truth is they swarm here on the sly to get a taste of the extraordinary—exotic animals from the remote northern regions, bootleg ephilium wine smuggled off a cart coming through the official government rift and, yes, black market goods scavenged from the plains.
“Hey, cheer up,” I say, clapping Hodges on the back as we turn toward the rest of the market. “At least we got good money for the axe.” The dealer we sold it to was a locksmith and very interested in the runes on the handle. I didn’t ask why. All I know, and all Icareto know, is some runes open rifts.In Strata, only Assembly officials are allowed to do that. Anything else—like using runes to make an unbreakable lock box like the ones the smith sells—would be terribly illegal. And well above my pay grade to care about.
“Yougot good money for it,” Hodges corrects me.
I push my hands into my pockets and pull out a pair of crisp notes, presenting them to him. “And here’s your cut.”
He backs away, hands up. “No, Polaris, you nearlydiedgetting that thing.”
“And a deal’s a deal,” I say, cornering him by a jewelry stall and shoving the notes into the front pocket of his coat. “I know your mother’s license renewal is coming up soon, so don’t bullshit me saying you don’t need it.”
We’d been working together a few months when Hodges told me how his father was a lumber mill worker killed in a factory accident. The Carpenter’s Guild was decent enough to offer his widow, Hodges’s mother, continued access to his license—provided she could keep paying the annual fee, of course. That’s what made Hodges take up scavenging. A family without a guild license is a family that’s considered a “public charge” and shipped straight off to the workhouse. Nothing like desperation to motivate you to make money fast. I give Hodges a firm shake of my head when he tries to hand the notes back to me. “If nothing else, take the money so you can rub it in Oxel’s face next time you see him.”
Hodges’s jaw tightens. “That snake. You can bet the next time I see him I’ll?—”
“Do nothing to get yourself into trouble,” I finish, glancing down at the jewelry stall, distracted by the faint glow of a tray of lockets. They must be imbued with ephilium feather to shine like that. I make a mental note to come to this stall next time I have some to sell.
Half the stuff available here is contraband, but it’s difficult to stomp out such a thriving industry. Plus, the wardens tend to lose interest in said stomping if the dealers bribe them enough.
“How’s your leg?” Hodges asks, catching me rubbing the fabric of my pants. I grimace.
“Itchy. I think that demon got some of her blood on me.” I pull my pant leg up to show him the rash forming on my skin.
He smirks. “Better a rash than a missing limb. Is there anything you’renotallergic to?”
“Yes,” I say pointedly. “Nice young men who don’t annoy the shit out of me with stupid questions.” Hodges barks out a laugh as we weave our way through the crowds of people toward the medicine woman’s stall. Most scavengers avoid touching demon stuff directly for fear of bad luck. Everyone knows demon magic can bring misfortune if handled too carelessly. But my long list of sensitivities means I try to steer clear of the green stuff altogether. It’s far from the onlything that causes me to break out into a rash, but it’s one of the more annoying.
I barter with the market’s best medicine woman, Martha, settling on offering her my jar of shadow mist in exchange for the drops that nip my allergies in the bud before they become full-blown flare-ups.
“Thank you, my dear,” she smiles as she stores the jar under her stall. “This stuff helps make the best cough syrup, but it’s so pricey.”
I could mention I’d pay ten jars of mist to keep from being an itchy, sneezy mess all the time, but that’s just bad negotiating. Instead, I turn around to see Hodges eyeing up a dark tent tucked tightly away in a corner, underneath the sagging trusses of one of the bridges that earns the market its name.
“What do you want withhim?” I ask, my voice wary.
Hodges unclasps his own satchel, pulling back a pile of rags to reveal something nestled beneath.
A skull. Ademonskull from the shape of sharp teeth curved between its jaws.
“I found it half buried in the riverbed,” he murmurs to me. “It must be why no one else snagged it before now. You think Ingold will be interested?”
