The Seven Markets (13 page)

“I met a giant once. Big as a tree. Dumb as one, too. Sold him his own right shoe and y’wouldn’t believe how stunned he was to discover I had a left one to match.”

Ellie’s giggle turned into a shiver. Rossi removed his coat and laid it across her shoulders. “We should get back to the hotel,” he said.

“I could give you a ride, if you like,” the short man, who still had not introduced himself, said.

Ellie nodded, eager with discomfort. “Yes, please.”

Rossi helped the little man up into the cab of the truck, ignoring protests that he could do it himself if they’d only let him be.

“Lemme see, some heat would do right, no?”

He punched a button behind the steering wheel and waves of impossible heat issued forth from vents in the truck’s dash. Soon the layer of snow and ice was falling away from the windshield.

“My seat is getting hot,” Ellie said.

“Latest thing,” the short man said, winking at her. “Don’t tell anyone. Rules and such. Right place, wrong time, all that.”

“Yes, rules.”

He turned the key in the ignition and the truck began its slow, trudging way up the street. Ellie expected they would have to give directions—she couldn’t imagine that this odd little man actually knew where he was going—but they cut a sure and direct path to the heart of downtown. When they arrived at a building only a couple blocks from their hotel, the driver cautioned them to find something to hold on to.

“This next bit may be a touch . . . dicey. Truth be told, never done this with passengers. Still, the principles is sound.”

He shifted the truck into reverse and backed away, cutting the wheel so they were traveling perpendicular to the building where they’d paused before. The engine groaned, and the halo of dark smoky exhaust surrounded them. Ellie heard a shrill
beep beep beep
as they reversed. It ceased when he shifted the truck back into drive.

“Here we go,” he said.

Bearing down on the steering wheel as if afraid he might be thrown clear, the short man floored the accelerator. The truck shot forward, the engine purring for the first time since they’d heard it approaching out of the drifting snow. The building grew larger and larger until it filled the windshield.

Rossi let go of his handhold on the door and threw himself in front of Ellie, shielding her body with his own.

“There we are, then. Right as rain. Care to walk around?”

Ellie pushed Rossi off of her and followed the short man out the driver’s side door. The truck, no longer spewing noxious black fumes, had been reduced to a silent observer.

They were in the building’s basement. A few steps from the truck’s grill was a rusted, silent boiler. A puddle of brackish water covered the floor in one corner, and beyond the range of the truck’s headlights Ellie could hear small things with too many legs skittering about in a mild frenzy.

“I was on time for something once. Didn’t suit me.”

“The Market is coming here?” Ellie said. Behind her, Rossi had recovered from their non-collision with the building and was climbing down to join them.

“More like here is going to the Market, but that’s close enough. Safe here, though. Y’said you had a hotel?”

“Yes,” Rossi said. The lone syllable was all he could get out.

“Well, come on, then. Three days of busy trade builds a powerful thirst. Best to get ahead of it is what I say.”

There was an additional room in Ellie and Rossi’s suite when they arrived back at the hotel. Neither was especially surprised to find the short stranger’s luggage waiting for him there.

“You know, I can’t remember your name for the life of me,” he said.

“Ellie. And this is Rossi.”

“Your cousin?”

“Not by half,” Rossi said.

“Call me Beesix,” the short man said. “S’close enough to right and I’ll mostly answer when I hear it.”

“Beesix,” Ellie said without a hint of recognition.

“No? I’d swear it was you, girl.”

The hotel room seemed to have warmed itself for their arrival. Ellie excused herself to tidy up and change out of her damp clothes before they went downstairs for dinner. “Will you please entertain our guest, Mister Rossi?” she called over her shoulder, closing the door curtly behind her. It was a light door and it shooshed closed as if floating on a curtain of air. If she was quiet, Ellie would be able to hear what Rossi and the strange man said in her absence.

“Nice girl,” Beesix said. “Hasn’t changed at all in two centuries.”

“No,” Rossi said. She could imagine the look on his face. It was not a happy one.

“How’d you end up tied to her? ‘Cousin’ my foot.”

“As she said, it’s a service for her husband, the Prince.”

That same rough stone-on-glass laughter. It sent waves of cold shooting up Ellie’s spine. “Husband. Got you trained, no? What’s your game?”

“I’m looking out for her.”

“Are you?”

“Someone had to. Can you imagine?”

“Don’t have to. Seen it. That’s all there is to it?”

“What more would there be?”

“Oh ho. ‘What more,’ indeed. Never seen the like, have I. Almost the whole distance, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Rossi said. “You won’t tell her?”

“Me? I’m here for the trade, and that’s all. Job t’do. Might be better for you if I took the load, though, don’t you think? That storm’s going to bear right down on you. Think you can survive it?”

“For her,” Rossi said.

Ellie’s curiosity was piqued. They seemed to be having a rather serious discussion but whenever she attempted to focus on the substance of it, she found herself distracted by memories of her Prince. Anticipation of seeing him again. Thoughts of his touch, his vigor, his masculine beauty. Was Rossi upset or merely tired from a long day out in the elements? Was this new friend, who seemed to be staying overnight with them, agitated over some matter or was it just the long day of travel he’d passed?

She asked herself what her Prince would think and decided he would carry on his affairs without concern for those beneath him. Rossi was her friend, certainly, but he was also a servant. And this peddler, this tinkerer, while a cheery enough fellow, seemed inclined to rambling when he spoke. He couldn’t find the end of a sentence from its beginning with a length of rope, a head-mounted light, a map, and a compass.

She abandoned her vigil at the door and removed her clothing. She could imagine the Prince’s hands appearing from the air to touch and caress her, his lips to kiss her. He took her hands and led her, dancing, across the deck of the ship from her dreams.

The lobby was deserted, the lounge closed. Behind the front desk a lone concierge snored with his feet up on the counter and a cap down over his eyes. Ellie carried her boots; she wore only the thick wool socks she’d tucked away beneath the bed before telling the men she was turning in early.

“Big day tomorrow, Ellie,” Rossi had said. He and Beesix had become fast friends. The table between them was covered in empty glasses, playing cards, and scattered toothpicks, which they were using in place of money.

“Don’t stay up too late, you two. We’re getting an early start, remember?”

But they had stayed up late. Ellie had lain awake for hours waiting to hear the two of them stagger off to their respective beds. From the sound of it, Beesix had cleaned out Rossi’s supply of toothpicks and her companion was none too happy about his losses.

She gave them another hour to settle in before pushing aside her covers. Dressing in darkness, Ellie almost changed her mind a hundred times. Rossi would be waiting for her in the living room. He’d have his
I’m very disappointed, Ellie
face on, and this time when he saw her to bed, he’d make sure the door was locked from the outside. Might even prop up a chair to hold it shut. Or bring a blanket out to doze on the couch, one ear cocked for the telltale sounds of wayward youth. All for her own protection, of course.

Her bedroom door stuck. Ellie turned the knob and leaned against the stubborn thing with all the strength she dared. She expected it to give up the fight without warning and spill her out onto the common room floor.

Help me, my love.

She shouldered the door, bracing her feet and hoping she wouldn’t spill through when it opened, hoping the door wouldn’t fly open and bang against the outside wall.

It opened, the click of the lock impossibly loud. Ellie held her breath and counted to a one hundred, poised to fly back to bed at the slightest sign of wakefulness.

The night was a looming tombstone, impassive, silent. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the common room. Her boots waited by the door, along with her coat, gloves, hat, and scarf. As bitter as the chill had been earlier, she expected it would be well below freezing when she left the hotel’s warmth. She slung her cold-weather gear over one arm, cradled her noisy boots in the crook of the other, and exited into the hall. The wall sconces were miniature suns compared to the darkness within her suite. Ellie shielded her eyes and eased the door shut, terrified of making a noise loud enough to wake Rossi and his new friend. She didn’t like thinking about the little man with his flaming, bushy beard. He was genial enough, that was true. But when she looked at him, when he looked at her, Ellie felt a rotting emptiness at the pit of her being. They’d only just met, but the sense she got from him was disappointment. How she could disappoint a complete stranger was beyond Ellie’s ken, but there was no mistaking the man’s contempt.

She took the stairs down to the lobby, afraid of risking the elevator. It pinged when it opened on their floor, and that was bad. The muscular grinding it made as it parked on a floor and settled into place was worse. There was no way Rossi would sleep through a racket like that.

She should have put her boots on, but every whisper was a scream, every creak of old construction a tortured wail. She couldn’t conceive of how noisy the tick tock of her boots would be if she attempted to hoof it all the way down to the lobby in them.

She passed through without incident, stopping at the hotel’s unmanned front entrance—it appeared doormen didn’t work through the wee hours of the night—and sitting to pull her boots on. Ellie wiggled her toes, remembering how difficult it was to move with any speed in these ridiculous things. The only other footwear she had were fancy shoes, a pair of open-toed sandals and another pair of high heels. Her feet would have turned to icicles the instant she stepped outside in those, so: uncomfortable boots.

The night was
much
colder than the day had been. Tightening her scarf and pulling down the ears of her hat, Ellie still felt the knife of winter sliding between her ribs, between the joints in her fingers. She was grateful the walk ahead of her was not long.

“Here for the Market?” came a raspy voice from overhead.

Ellie turned to look, certain Rossi had followed her downstairs. For an instant she allowed herself to hope he would understand. He might even come with her.

Not Rossi. “It’s very late for a walk,” the dragon said. It was blue in the moonlight and curled up on the balcony above the hotel’s broad double doors. A close-cropped beard like a dusting of snow covered its chin and its right ear was pierced in nearly a dozen places. There was nothing in all the world it could be but a dragon.

“You shouldn’t try to eat me,” Ellie said, screwing up her courage.

“Eat you? Why would I possibly do a thing like that?”

She racked her brain. Why
would
a dragon want to eat her?

“Because you’re big and I’m small,” she said after some consideration.

“You think I eat everything that fits into my mouth?” The dragon uncoiled its body, which was long and slender, like a prowling jungle cat, and much bigger than she’d initially thought. It dropped down to the ground without making a sound. “You think they’d let me visit the Market if I started eating everyone?”

“I suppose not,” Ellie said.

“Of course not. Anyway, have you ever eaten a human? Horrible, wriggling things. You don’t cook up right, and the screaming, heavens above, the noise is just unbearable. Hardly matters if you pop the head off first or save it for last; all you do is scream and scream and scream.”

“I wouldn’t scream,” Ellie said.

The dragon moved with a sinewy ease that belied its obvious size and weight. It reminded Ellie of the feral cats that stalked the woods behind her and Rossi’s home.

“You wouldn’t scream? Listen: are you
trying
to convince me to eat you? It’s been a long day and I had a nice supper, but I’ve never been above performing favors for pretty girls. Or for midnight snacks.”

Ellie stepped back, feeling for the hotel’s doors. She’d only taken a step or two, but they seemed as distant as the morning sun.

“I swear,” the dragon said. “I never met a people so excited about being eaten. It’s all we ever hear, ‘Please don’t eat me’ and ‘I’ll do anything if you don’t eat me.’” It leaned down and in a conspiratorial voice said, “Between you and me, that last bit is worth its weight in gold. The ‘I’ll do anything’ sort tend to be well off and used to buying their way out of trouble. Scorch the hedges a bit, take a bite out of one of the horses, and you can write your own ticket.”

“What—”

It shook its massive anvil of a head. It tried to smile. “Let’s start over,” it said. “Preferably without the screaming and the running away. Which, to be fair, you didn’t do. Come to think of it, your whole ‘you shouldn’t try to eat me’ bit has the vague air of a threat, doesn’t it? What’s your game, little girl?”

Ellie felt the Prince’s gem against her chest, beating in time with her own heart. “Just what I said. You shouldn’t
try
to eat me. My husband protects me.”

The dragon’s eyes grew drawn and distant as the horizon. It looked both ways up the street, left and right. “We seem to be alone, miss.”

“Even so.”

“He must be fearsome indeed, your husband.”

“Oh yes.” Ellie found she rather enjoyed her sudden boldness. It felt somehow appropriate that she should be bold. Like shrugging on an old coat you’ve found in the attic and remembering how perfectly it fits.