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The very day that Corene arrived in Malinqua, Leah headed toward the market, climbed to the top level, and browsed through the merchandise on display. She had dressed in her absolute finest clothes, by Malinquese standards—made of simple but expensive black silk—and visited as many booths as she could. She could usually get a sense of when people might be willing to deal, but none of the merchants on Great Four struck her as being open to trades or bribery.

So she returned to the harbor to ask her new friend Billini for help.

She had sized him up as a man who dealt in information, which meant he would respond to a truth better than a fabrication. So she was honest with him, up to a point.

“I just want to meet the new princess—the one from Welce,” she said to Billini over a beer. It was late by this time and the bar was nearly empty again, though Billini had had a packed house once the royal party finally cleared out of the harbor. “I want to be able to tell my friend back in Chialto that I didn’t just
see
the princess, I spoke to her. She’ll be so jealous.”

Billini was wiping down the counter while keeping an eye on the few remaining patrons. He grinned. “That she will.”

“And I thought, surely she’ll go to Great Four, right? And if I was working at one of the stalls when she walked up—” She heaved a sigh of self-pity. “But I was there today and I didn’t see a booth where an owner looked friendly enough to ask.”

“They’re a pretty closed-off lot,” Billini agreed.

“I’d pay,” she said glumly. “I’d pay a lot to have a chance to say five words to the princess.”

A man at the end of the bar called out for another beer, so Billini
stepped away for a few minutes. That was fine; Leah hoped it gave him time to think. When he came back, she changed the subject.

“I have the stupidest landlord,” she said. “He wants to start charging me extra if I keep food in my rooms. Says it brings in the mice. I said, No,
you
not clearing garbage out of the alley is what brings in the mice.”

“Landlords are assholes,” Billini said, nodding. “That’s why I’m so lucky I own this place.”

They swapped a few stories about the general unlikability of the rich and powerful, then Billini tapped his finger on the counter a few times.

“I might be able to help out,” he said.

Leah affected surprise. “With what?”

“At Great Four. I know somebody who wouldn’t mind doing me a favor.”

She let herself show excitement. “Someone who has a booth? Where I might meet the princess?”

He nodded. “If you mention my name, Chandran will listen. But he won’t give anything away for free.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t expect him to. But I don’t want to seem cheap. What should I offer him? What should I say to him?”

In between Billini’s next few customers, they discussed the protocol and price ranges of bribery, which wasn’t nearly as expensive as Leah would have thought. When she finally departed for the night, she left an exorbitant tip as thanks, but both of them knew very well she had already paid Billini in advance with her information about Steff’s arrival.

Just as she’d hoped. This was going to be a profitable relationship.

•   •   •

B
illini’s friend in Great Four was a commandingly tall, heavily bearded man who spoke with a trace of a Coziquela accent. Leah was intrigued by the idea that Billini only collected friends from foreign lands, but it made sense. They would tend to have less loyalty to the crown and much more loyalty to hard cash. She wondered how Chandran had managed to acquire a booth in the Market. Married for it or murdered for it, she supposed.

She didn’t ask.

He traded in foreign fripperies—embroidered scarves, painted vases, tiny glass music boxes that threw off prisms of light while their interior mechanisms spun with melody. He listened without expression as Leah laid her offer before him.

“One day only?” he asked when she was done.

“Unless I don’t manage to speak to the princess on the first day she comes here.”

A very small smile showed through the thick beard. “The royal party
always
stops at my booth.”

“Then one day only.”

“Would you pay in Welchin coin?”

She almost said,
No, of course not—I have Malinquese money
, but she stopped herself in time. “Would that be an advantage to you?”

“I have a supplier who would be happy if I were to buy his goods in that currency.”

“Then that’s what I’ll bring.”

“You will need to work while you are awaiting the princess’s arrival,” he warned her. “You will need to be courteous and knowledgeable about the items for sale.”

She glanced at the variety on display. “You might need to spend a few hours training me, but I’m generally quick to learn.”

“I have time today,” he offered. He jerked his head in the direction of the open wall, where unrelenting rain was making the whole city miserable. “Not many will venture to the market in this weather.”

“I’m free as well.”

So she slipped inside the booth, which was the size of a small bedroom. Chandran and his neighbors had created divisions by lining up tall cabinets, back to back with each other, to delineate their own spaces. Some of Chandran’s cabinets had drawers, some had doors, and all were heavily locked. Instead of a back wall, there was a curtain, and through it Leah could glimpse a storage area filled with locked trunks and a very small seating area. On the other side of the curtained area, she surmised, was a vendor whose space backed up to this one. Chandran had one of the coveted middle aisles, close to the stairwell that delivered wealthy buyers and a comfortable distance from the open archways where bad weather came blowing in.

The front of the booth was a polished wood table laid out with samples of Chandran’s exotic goods. They were designed to catch the eyes of passersby, but Leah suspected that they were the least interesting of the items he had for sale. The very best pieces would be kept under lock and key and only brought out for the discriminating buyer who knew what to ask for.

The rain never let up and traffic remained slow, so Chandran had plenty of time in between customers to explain what he was selling and how it was priced. Leah was interested to learn that he accepted payment in any kind of currency and could convert monetary amounts rapidly in his head.

“Most of my customers pay in Malinquese coins, but some of my wealthiest patrons are from Dhonsho and Cozique,” Chandran explained. “They are willing to pay more for the convenience of using their own money.”

Leah had a chance to practice her math skills late in the day when an older woman accompanied her petulant granddaughter to Chandran’s booth and began picking through the music boxes. They wore the long, flowing clothing that Leah had learned to associate with Cozique; that, more than the fact that they spoke Coziquela, gave away their national origin. Nothing pleased the little girl until Chandran brought over a music box made of deep red glass and featuring a small gold rabbit that spun slowly on the lid while the melody played.

“I want that. Can I have that?” she demanded.

“Of course, anything to make you happy,” the older woman said. She seemed amused rather than irritated; Leah herself would have been tempted to push the little girl down the stairwell if they’d been anywhere near the center of the building. “I can purchase it with Coziquela coins, can I not?”

Chandran nodded and looked pointedly at Leah, who made a guess at the right multiplier and named a sum. She wasn’t sure if it was correct or not, but the woman handed over her payment without argument.

As soon as the customers were out of sight, Chandran gave her a nod of approval. “Nicely done.”

“I thought the number might have been too high.”

Chandran offered his buried smile. “She did not think so.”

The rest of the day brought a handful of additional customers, but they all possessed Malinquese funds, so the transactions weren’t too difficult. Still, by the time the floor cleared and merchants started closing up their booths, Leah admitted to herself that she was feeling fatigued. She wasn’t used to standing in one place all day, trying to look welcoming. Her cheeks hurt from the unaccustomed smiling.

That says something about you that you don’t want to think about too much,
she thought ruefully.

“I usually reward myself with a cup of keerza at the end of the day,” Chandran said. “Would you like some?”

Leah didn’t care much for keerza, which she considered either bitter or flavorless, depending on how it was brewed, but she never missed a chance to cultivate a friendship. “I would,” she said. “Thank you.”

Chandran stepped back into the little curtained area and set a kettle over a tiny portable firepit. Leah dragged out a pair of stools and arranged them in the middle of the booth, so she and Chandran would have room to sit comfortably. About half the other merchants were engaged in similar rituals, she noticed, taking this hour to wind down or tally up accounts or visit with neighboring vendors. The rest of the shops were completely deserted.

“How do you know your merchandise will be safe overnight?” Leah asked as Chandran handed her a steaming cup and settled in the chair across from her. “A determined thief could break into any cabinet he wanted.”

Chandran blew on his cup to cool it. “There is a ring of guards outside the market every night. Thefts are few.”

Leah sipped her keerza, which was on the strong and bitter side.
Why would anybody drink this stuff?
“Guards? Paid for by the merchants?”

“Originally,” Chandran said. “But given the importance of the Great Market to the economy of Palminera, it has become an expense borne by the crown. Of course, the rents we pay to lease our spaces are a source of income for the crown, so in some sense we
are
funding the guards.”

Leah took another swallow. It might not be so bad if she had a sweet to go with it. When she came back tomorrow, she would bring something sugary—enough to share with Chandran. “How long have
you had a booth here?” she inquired. That seemed safe enough to ask; if he felt chatty, she might learn how he’d managed to acquire the space.

But he didn’t. “For ten years. A very lucrative ten years.”

She grinned. “I imagine so.” There was only about half the cup left and she chugged the rest of it down, just to get it over with. She felt her stomach turn over in protest. Welce and Malinqua had healthy trading arrangements, but Leah couldn’t imagine this particular item catching on in her home country. “So what time should I be back tomorrow? When would the royal party arrive?”

“They might come at any time—or they might not come until the next day, or the day after. It is hard to gauge.”

“Then I guess I’ll just keep returning until they do.”

He nodded. “As I expected. Be here when the market opens. I will give you a pass that will see you through the guards in the morning.” He gave her a stern look. “It will
not
get you past the perimeter at night, should you be thinking of returning and appropriating a few items from my fellow merchants.”

That made her laugh. She appreciated suspicious people; they reminded her of herself. “What, you don’t know me well enough to trust my good intentions?”

“I don’t know you at all,” he said. “As you do not know me. Either of us might be much different than we seem.”

She acknowledged that with a rueful look.

“Would you like more keerza?” he asked.

“Thank you, no. I need to get home.” And the sooner the better; the keerza was not agreeing with her stomach at all. She gathered her feet under her, preparing to push herself off the stool, but he held out a hand.

“One moment,” he said, his voice darkly serious.

She tried not to show the tension that suddenly tightened all the muscles in her back. “What is it?”

His black eyes studied her as if he wanted to read her soul. “Why are you so interested in meeting the Welchin princess?”

“I told you—”

“The truth,” he said. He gestured at the empty cup still in her hand. “I put poison in the keerza. If I do not like your answer, I will call the
guards. I am not interested in playing any role in an attempted assassination.”

Poison!
Oh, she’d been a fool for not even suspecting. Even by keerza standards, this cup had tasted foul. Malinqua’s early history was rife with tales of deadly drinks served to unsuspecting rivals, and even today a fatal brew was the preferred weapon for murder. She was an idiot.

Leah’s mind raced as her gut cramped. She had a whole range of medicines in her lodgings—including more than one antitoxin—but judging by the way her abdomen was clenching, she wouldn’t be able to make it that far without puking her guts out. Or worse.

“I am not interested in assassination, either,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. He hadn’t specified if the drug he’d administered would kill her or just incapacitate her, and his solemn bearded face didn’t give away any clues. “The truth. I am in Malinqua as an agent of the Welchin crown. I send back any useful information to the regent, Darien Serlast—who will shortly become king.”

“You’re a spy.”

“I am.”

He considered that a moment. “Relations between Welce and Malinqua have been generally friendly.”

“That’s right. And there’s been nothing damaging in my reports. Just—information.” As he thought that over, she added, “The empress has spies in Chialto as well. You know that. Just as she has spies in Cozique and they have spies here.”
You might be one of them,
she thought, but decided it was more prudent not to say so. Her stomach was really knotting up now, and her hands felt sweaty. One way or the other, this was not going to be pleasant. She tried to push down the panic that kept rising at the back of her throat. It would only make the situation worse.

“Why do you want to make contact with the Welchin princess?”

Leah rubbed her hands on her trousers. “She’s Darien Serlast’s daughter, and she came here without his permission. He’s afraid for her safety. He wants me to discover if she is well, and to offer to be a friend to her if she isn’t.”