Vaulted arches and marbled cobbles defined the market. Towering white pillars anchored colourful curtains. In a patchwork canopy blunted the day’s heat.

People traveled, by feet and hoof. Or rickshaw when the inconvenience of inhumanity met wealth. Rumbles, laughter and the shuffling cloth blended. Like the forests she’d never seen. If she closed her eyes, imagined.

She could mistake her lot. Be, citizen to this ancient capital. Great, despite the world’s centre shifting away. She’d go to school and learn. Hunger’s pang could become a lesson told to her children. In a warm tenement somewhere far away.

No disdain for the green scales that littered her limbs and dappled her cheeks. She’d smile, her gesture returned by passersby. While she fiddled with a mechanical clock she could never afford.

There lay the flaw. Her slitted eyes snapped open. Richly dressed men and women strode by. Though for her most things were. Their eyes attentively roamed the wares and seamlessly slipped past her.

Her patchy brown cloak might as well grant her invisibility.

She supped the air and tasted their mood. Not all were happy. Bright smiles matched impatient strides. Yet even the most resolute drunks. Head bowed in hangover. Walked without fear.

How much would she give for that? But she couldn’t. never would, if she let daydreams steal her attention.

She drank. A wave of scents and impressions rose. Too much to parse a single note. But if she could. No, when she did. Her freedom would come.

If only she could silence her aching stomach now. She sighed. The sound more hiss than breath and pushed free of the stall. Whose tender threw another pile of chicken atop the wood stove

She slipped into the crowd. Passage eased by their inattention. The current took her deeper into the colourful maze.

She tasted wealth with every step. Literally in the perfumes that hung about those she passed. More poignantly in its pointlessness. They had the luxury of being clean. That, beyond trinkets and well-spun clothes, she envied. Their full stomachs, she envied more so.

Metaphorically, she tasted wealth in joy. Though spiced with pain and the foibles of mankind’s descendants.

The raw, satisfaction of a merchant twisting a deal to their favour. The joy of a child who saw treasure in a cloth doll. The love of the woman looking down on him.

That was prosperity. She couldn’t understand it. Yet it dug at her thoughts. Prying at distant memories. Her closest recollection was a family of mice and a full stomach.

She didn’t need to understand. Find the rich scent that matched the cloth she’d been given weeks ago. Then, she could go. Somewhere, less taxing.

***

She followed a scent. With the faint hope, it wasn’t another fop Tainting the air with their cheer.

She found its source perched over an unassuming stall, in a thinly trafficked corner of the market. Perusing fruit.

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Two squinted. Clad in a hooded dark brown coat. Only her light hum hindered their gender. She looked unremarkable.

But, there was a depth about them. Normal people oozed emotion like steam. Most of her emotions followed that logic. Yet the next moment, she gained an inexplicable intensity an intimacy. It smelled like a home she couldn’t remember.

She froze, struck by the feeling.

The woman turned. Eyes of silver blue met hers. She smiled, and Two waved without thought. They turned away.

Two returned to herself, and with utmost leity walked away. Rounded one corner, then the next, and two more after.

She placed herself in a shaded corner, and let panic rise.

She’d been sent to find a cultivator. The kind that could twist hearts without effort. She leaned deeply into the wall. She steadied her breath.

This, she didn’t know what to think. But that had most definitely been her target. She lurched upright.

She’d have words for Butch. What special talent? They’d wanted someone disposable, and desperate. The thought burned.

She could, should ditch. She paused then her steps continued. But she wouldn’t. Her fire guttered. She’d been pushed for any opportunity. This wasn’t her best option it was her only one.

Her morose figure attracted glances. She reaffirmed her veneer.

So she’d keep going. Despite the risk. What else could she do?

***

She glared down at the ‘beggar’. With a snarl in her heart. She let the anger go.

He wasn’t even trying. Dressed in gray scraps. Or very generously clothes. Butch reclined on a mat, At the street’s side.

That was the extent of his accuracy. His light skin clung to lean muscle. The goat’s shaggy gray hair and pointed beard made no doubt of his ancestry. He gazed up at her with a lazy confident smile. Idly rubbing his curled horns.

All he needed was a pipe to complete the image. Though it was ruined by the coin-filled hat.

“You found her,” he said, conversationally.

“Yes,” she replied with calm she didn’t feel.

“Wonderful,” he clapped and leapt to his feet. Attracting numerous gazes. He placed a gangly hand on her shoulder. Meeting her glare with a broad smile.

“So,” he quirked a bushy brow, “Where is she,”

His breath was stale. He reeked excitement in general and disdain for her. Nothing masked the depth of his emotion. Self-confidence was etched into his flesh. A squeeze would be enough to crush her bone.

Still, if she was screwed she need to know how bad. “She’s, very interesting.” She squinted.

A full-body laugh almost sent him toppling. By her ancestors, he practically oozed suspicion. And it splashed on her.

She sighed shoulders slumped. “Why, didn’t you tell me”

He collected himself after several long seconds. “That wasn’t my idea. But did you really think we got paid for easy jobs” he chortled.

She had many choice words. The flowing crowd dissuaded her. His folly wouldn’t rub off on her. “We’ll have words.”

“Sure, sure,” he waved her off. Then flipped the hat onto his head. Her gaze remained fixed on the fallen coins. She raised it to glare at him. “Don’t worry about the change. Let’s go!” he pushed her into the crowd. She sighed and slipped from his grip.

She could use some daydreams right now.

***

The scent proved easy to rediscover. Despite Butch’s constant distractions.

Short shallow breaths. She reminded herself. “Butch,” she whispered.

The tall man’s tangent paused. She struck before he found another. “She has this effect its-“

He chuckled, “I know,” he said palpably smug.

She hissed. Her forked tongue sampling the air. Anger burned her chest.

She spotted the woman. “Ten metres in front to the left. Brown cloak.”

Butch scanned the crowd. Before landing on the woman. “You sure,” he glanced at her.

“Yes, shouldn’t you know.” She said tersely.

“I should” he scratched his short beard. “But we think she’s got some item on her. Blacks perception.”

She stared blankly. He grinned.

“Did you see her face?”

“Yes,”

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

She remembered seeing a face. But save those bright eyes. Every detail eluded her.

“No,” she whispered her heart racing.

He chuckled, ” Well are you sure,”

She nodded.

“Then,” he rolled his shoulders. A touch of malice entered his scent. “Be off, I’ll give you a bit before the real work starts.

He flashed her a bright smile. ”You know where to be.”

She nodded but he already turned.

There was little doubt what would happen next. She hurried. She didn’t want to see it.