There are places where things tend to end up sooner or later. Some as the unwanted, others as the most precious possessions in the world. All the rest can be found at the Shander Market.

Dozens of shops, food stands, trinket peddlers and fortune tellers all crowded together under a mesmerizing vaulted ceiling. It spread out like a maze before her eyes, and each of its corridors led to a maze of its own. She could feel the energy buzzing under her feet, making her steps lighter as she chased the smell of food she’d never tasted before. A million things called out to her, to be touched or eaten, worn or used for a good purpose or a dark one.

People came and went in every direction, with a variety of faces and clothing, of a kind one only finds in the buzzing heart of a city far away. She felt as though she’d stepped into a place that had no roots in her world and every familiarity could be severed at will. It was a place where magic flowed in abundance, and for the first time in her life, it was not a thing to be wary of.

“This looks like it belongs to you,” said an old woman pulling Myra aside. She grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her almost into her humble shop at the crossroads. Hundreds of baubles and hand carvings lay scattered all around and the woman had the uncanny resemblance of a witch from the children’s stories. She presented Myra with a long silver thread from which hung a black pearl, so uniquely dark it almost absorbed all the light around it.

“I’m sorry, I’m not looking to buy anything,” Myra returned, stepping back. Somewhere in between her amazement and a quaint fear of being tricked, she tried to remain calm, and not get swayed away by all the impossible things she was seeing. Down to the specs of dust and its very foundations, the market was made of magic, and she was the odd one out.

The woman did not want to take no for an answer, and insistently grabbed Myra’s arm, pulling her closer once again. No matter how much she wanted to resist, the woman made sure Myra did not leave her shop without the pearl.

“It’s yours,” she said pulling on her headscarf slightly backwards. She smiled, showing the absence of several teeth, and simultaneously increasing Myra’s conviction that the woman was either a very good merchant or a moderately evil peddler of cursed items. She had no way of knowing.

“A gift,” the woman added, trying to put the pearl around Myra’s neck.

“Please, you don’t have to…” she tried to stop her, but the necklace was already around her neck. “Fine. I’ll pay for it, alright? How much?”

“No no, do not worry yourself with that child. You’ll repay me when the time is right.”

The pearl felt warm in her hand, like her personal black hole that had no apparent purpose or meaning, and she decided she did not want to linger on it too much. Instead of questioning such a random act, she decided to keep wandering on, delving even deeper into the unknown.

“Get him,” she heard someone say from behind. “Myra!”

As she turned to see who it was, she was knocked down with great force, and the assortment of grilled meat she was holding went flying into the air like a rocket. From the ground she caught a glimpse of a running man who kept pushing through the crowds ahead, never mind if he was going to hurt someone along the way.

Ori was just behind him, with the whole of his face and most of his clothes covered in an orange powder. He sneezed as he ran, shedding layers of it onto the floor and the people around him.

To Myra’s eyes, he was nothing but an orange spice monster, and she wanted to laugh, had her bones not hurt.

“What are you waiting for? Get him!” Ori yelled again pointing forward.

Seeing that she had no other choice, Myra clenched her fists and bolted forward, limping at first but quickly gaining speed. Despite having no idea who it was she was chasing, she gave it her best, making sure her meal did not go un-avenged.

The runaway was faster than he looked, but his colourful shirt was not the best choice of clothing for a foot chase. Like a bloodhound, Myra kept gaining on him, even when he tried to cut corners through shops and over cages full of rabid gnomes. Beaten by broomsticks and bleeding from many bites, they kept on running until a single wrong turn left the runaway without a way out.

A tower of crates blocked an alley that was to be his escape.

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“Got you now,” Myra said, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off her forehead. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

Like a cornered animal, he looked at the walls and then at Myra, calculating his options. His eyes grew restless and he lounged forward, trying to knock her down again and keep going. But this time Myra made sure he was the one on the ground.

She did not expect it to happen in such a way, and looking back at her fist, she wondered whether she’d gotten stronger or the man was made of marshmallow.

“What did you do to him,” said Ori, as he finally caught up to them. His eyes were swollen and the orange spice still covered most of his body. “I need him to be able to speak.”

“Oh, he’s able. I think.” She took the man by the shoulder and flipped him over. He was out cold.

“You think?” Ori said mockingly.

“Who’s he anyway?”

“A smuggler. He knows who bought the curse.”

Myra took a long look at the man on the floor. He appeared more like a waiter at a tropical bar than a black market smuggler, but she kept an open mind. Slowly, she took him by the arms and pulled him over to the wall. She tried to make him sit up like one would an unfortunate drunkard, but the limp body kept falling.

“Looks like we need to wait for a bit,” she said and pointed to Ori. “Did he do that to you?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you zap him, or turn him into something? Why have me chase after him?”

“I am allergic. And you are overestimating my power,” he returned as his face prepared for a sneeze.

“Some use are you,” she mumbled, gently nudging the smuggler with her foot. “You knew I was following you, didn’t you?”

He smiled, patting his clothes, while holding his nose closed shut. “Yes,” he said. “But I didn’t think you’d be able to… achoo!”

He sneezed again, this time releasing a shock wave of energy so strong that it made the sleeping man wake up.

With a terrified look on his face, the man held onto his hurting jaw and awaited his judgement.

“There we go,” Myra said pulling her badge out of her pocket. She did not care if the market even fell under her jurisdiction but she needed to reinstate her image as a servant of the law and not a backstreet thug. “You feeling alright?”

“Rasty!” Ori yelled, bending down. “I did not expect this from you. You have managed to disappoint me once again.”

“I’m sorry,” the man cried. “I was startled. You know how I act when I get surprised. I don’t even go to my own birthday party because of it. You know me, Ori.”

“Ori?” Myra held back her laughter, only letting out a small chuckle. “Really?”

“Not now Tamon,” Ori hissed and returned to his interrogation. “Look here,” he presented Rasty with an immaculate drawing of some unsavoury human-like figurine, which stood prompted on at least a dozen needles. The paper was old, the lines smudged, but the details remained equally vivid. “Have you seen this before?”

Rasty blinked, then looked at Myra. “You won’t hurt me, will you? I’m sorry for the last time. I’m just trying to make a living here. The market isn’t what it used to be. I’m just a businessman. Please?” He raised his eyebrows and scratched his bleeding hands and fingers.

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ori said getting up. “Tell me what you know, or I’ll let her hurt you again.”

“It’s always threats of violence with you. No wonder you have no friends,” said Rusty as he looked for something to help him stand up. “Not that I want to be your enemy, just to be clear. I hear you already got a big one.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Ori said as his composure began to fall apart, and the redness of his face only grew in strength. He turned to Myra and made a light gesture with his hand, like a weary general commanding a weak army. “Hit him.”

“No, no need for that,” Rasty screeched with arms raised against the wall. “I’ve had that thing for a few years. I don’t even remember when I got it, but it was obvious that no one wanted it. I had no idea what it was so I tried to sell it as a bad luck charm because it was too ugly to be anything else. I was actually planning on throwing it away, but then a man came looking for it one day. He paid good money, a lot more than I asked, and told me not to speak of it to anyone. That’s all I know.”

“Who was he?” Myra asked, now perfectly still.

“I can’t exactly memorize all my customers. I only remember he was tall, pale and looked like he knew what he was after. He didn’t even question what the damn thing was. And I did not care.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Perhaps, but I would prefer not to see either of you ever again.”

“You don’t really have a choice there,” Ori said checking the time on his watch and wiping it clean.

“Rasty?” Myra said handing Ori a pack of tissues he desperately needed. “There’s a story there. I can tell.”

They made long strides in search of the exit. The raven’s warning was not a play of words and Ori did not want to risk spending the night trapped inside a place that may or may not open its gates again.

“All I can say is that fortune and misfortune go hand in hand with that one. But he is our eyes and ears around here.”

“Is that why he coated you in spice and ran away?”

“No, that’s because he kicked me off a boat a few years back. In the middle of the ocean.”

“Makes sense,” Myra mumbled spotting the familiar array of shops she saw on the way in. Strangely enough, the old woman and her shop were no longer there. She thought about telling Ori about it, but decided it was better to focus on the more pressing matters.

“Isn’t there some magical way to see into someone’s memories?” she said. “Wouldn’t that be of use in this case?”

“There is. It’s just… we’ve already done it to him too many times. I fear he’ll completely lose himself if we do it again.”

“Wow, you may not be as boring as you seem.”

“You have no idea,” he returned as he knocked on the wall that marked the market's beginning and end.

The bricks opened up before them just like before, revealing the grim reality of Helden on the other side. But, something was not quite the same as it was before.

“How’s this possible?” Myra gasped as the clock on the tower ticked midnight. “We were in there for a couple of hours at most. What just happened?”

“Don’t panic,” Ori said checking the time once again. “Magic has its price.”