Unlike the main market, the side market had a busy, hurried air of impermanence about it. Goods cluttered rugs, and rarely tables, as their sellers coiled tightly to make space. On the garden side of the street, bushes and trees were used to display everything from colorful trinkets that reminded me of Kyrae’s bird to adzes of varying size hung by their blades off a large branch. Distantly, over the trees of a small, dry garden, I could hear a commotion where the coiling for the play was being assembled.

The people here were a lower-class mix, though I spotted the shine of silk from more than one distant patron. Many of the looks here were less knowing of exactly what we were—a lot of eyes looked only at our wealth with the hopes that we would spend well.

Eyes of that type were familiar; I knew them well.

Kyrae’s hand brushed mine and I took it without thinking. This place feels a little more familiar. My sister pulled away after a short squeeze, and with an approving gaze from Ssiina, we split very slightly, moving while keeping an eye on each other.

Despite the spirit of a festival, this place felt more alive—less unusually clean and upfront. I liked it.

My eyes traveled over the items on display in search of something practical. Already, I knew I’d have to negotiate hard just to pay double what anything was worth, and I smiled despite myself. I ignored the calls from people I passed as I looked, keeping a careful watch on my sisters.

Already Ssiina had been waylaid, trapped in a conversation all her etiquette training couldn’t get her out of. Someone who didn’t care about subtle meanings and reading body language was going to probably end up selling her something she didn’t need for ten times what a lesser-dressed person would pay. But like I needed those etiquette lessons, she needed this lesson. Besides, Kyrae was also watching her.

“A blade to defend yourself?” someone called from the side by the garden.

This time I listened, and slithered closer to check the items laid out on the rather nice rug. Plain, practical knives were arrayed in a row at the back, while shining blades with glittering handles formed a sun-like pattern nearer the street.

“A lady of high class should never be without a blade,” the seller said smoothly.

“Or her fangs,” I flashed the man a smile, and looked up from his wares to him.

He looked ke’lania, but he was small and his scales were a deep brown. Round features had been pulled almost to sharpness by his thin physique, and he had a small scar under one of his black eyes. His clothing was rugged—the kind that could stand to get covered in wet and mud time and again.

He gave me an appraising look at my latest words and expression, and his posture shifted. But he said nothing. I noticed callouses on his hands, and behind him hammers were stacked inside an aged, crusted crucible sitting amongst a pile of tools up against the short wall. Above and behind the man, other bronze tools had been hung from a small, gnarled tree.

Did I mess up? Did he notice my size—does he suspect I’m kelaniel? No, it’s unlikely.

Although, Ssiina was visible behind me. It was possible this ssen’kaa now knew I was kelaniel. That didn’t mean he would cut me a deal—it meant he’d be careful.

“Or her fangs,” the man conceded after a moment. “But a blade is impersonal—you won’t debase yourself. And you cannot skin, peel, or, slice with fangs.”

He does have a point. All the blades I’d trained with under Phaeliisthia had been either dinner knives, or daggers and longer blades. What I saw here were the in-between: wider, more robust blades with just a little more length to reach vital organs, but not so long as to be difficult to conceal in a wide sleeve or between my breasts. The latter with a sheath, of course.

“That you cannot,” I answered simply, showing interest and peering down.

Immediately, I dismissed the shiny, pretty blades. Some looked good, but the handles were impractical. Moreover, they were closer to the street, and thus easier to steal in addition to looking more attractive.

That meant those knives were for the people who’d never use them.

I had shadow powers and people after me. What I wanted was something I could slip between ribs if need be, and easily excuse or hide. A proper dagger, according to Ssiina, would be gauche at any social event. I looked at the knives in the back—plain bronze blades, but very sharp. So what if my blade didn’t have a shiny handle?

The point was that it wouldn’t be noticed.

I expected the knife seller to point me towards the ones in the front. The expensive ones that were cheaper and faster—and made with worse bronze. But either he saw my eyes drift to the row of plain knives at the back, or he gauged my posture.

“Interested in a simple, effective tool?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered simply. “But I already am capable of much in terms of self-defense. And I do not lack for weapons.”

“You want something simple and easily concealed then?”

Quickly, I found myself slipping into old mannerisms, colored curiously by my education. “Yes, but such things are easy to come by, I’m afraid.”

“Blades of this quality are not so simple to find.”

“They don’t look special.” I rose.

“How about a demonstration?”

I shot him an impatient glare. “Make it quick.”

“Certainly.” He slid a knife out of his own sleeve and reached for a specific piece of well-notched wood.

“No,” I said quickly. “I want to see that one slice the branch above you.” I pointed to a knife I had my eye on and a thick, old branch above his head.”

“That branch is an aged part of this garden; I cannot vandalize it. Now, this blade is nearly the same—see the shape, and the shine. Watch.”

He’s smooth. I watched.

The knife slid through the wood easily—probably too easily. I rose a little on my tail, and snapped the end of the branch off where it was narrower and newer. The man sputtered a protest that died under the imperious gaze Ssiina had trained me to use.

“Try this.” I held the branch to him. “As you can see, it is already broken from the tree, and will only go to waste otherwise.”

The seller glared at me. I expected him to find a way to refuse. To try to guilt me into leaving or buying something else. Maybe even to draw enough attention to warn other vendors.

He didn’t.

He took the branch, and before I could ask him to use the knife I had on my mind, he sliced clean through it with the older, well-used blade he’d cut the first piece of wood with.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

So it has a good edge. That one does at least.

“As you can see,” the ssen’kaa said carefully, “there is no deception.”

I nodded, and pointed to the demonstration knife in his hand. “I’ll take that one, then.”

“This one? It is old and nicked. Any of these newer knives would cut much better—and would look far nicer. I could not bear selling a defective blade to one such as yourself, miss.”

“I understand.”

His eyes lit up.

“Perhaps I will find someone whose blades are all fit to purpose then.” I turned and started to slither away.

“Wait!”

I stopped, surprised. He must really be desperate. I guess not a lot of people in a city as secure as Uzh—and during a bright, happy festival—are buying knives.

“Yes?” I turned my head back and arched one eyebrow.

“This one is truly unsuitable, but I have another just like it.” He fished around in the tools behind him and pulled out a simple knife in its sheath.

“Show me its edge.”

The man nodded and cut the same branch again, with ease. “See? A finer blade you will not find.”

I smiled at that, showing fangs. “Wonderful! How much for it?”

“Miss, you must understand this is not just a normal blade—I do not have a specific price in mind as I never intended to sell it.”

He’s hoping after all this that I don’t understand the value of a tail. My smile only got wider. Now was the real fun part.

***

Kyrae drifted from vendor to vendor, only mildly interested in what any of them had to sell. Only a few short years ago, she would have been head over heels to have the money she had on her right now—disbelieving probably. It would have been saved, hidden away, and used for food and a dry place to stay. Now though?

Well, she saw a cute-looking snake made out of what looked like real scales that were hand-laid, and she actually found herself wanting it. She worked hard to keep her hands to herself—she hadn’t stolen anything all day and really didn’t want to start now. I have money; I can pay for it.

Moreover, she could negotiate for something. Like she saw Issa doing, her nearly-royal looking sister wearing a mischievous grin as she haggled with someone selling knives. Ssiina on the other hand… a quick look revealed that her hssen-raised sister had already bought a few trinkets, and she didn’t seem to be negotiating very hard at all.

Poor Ssiina. It disturbed Kyrae less than she thought it ought to that Ssiina was so wealthy that it didn’t matter. After she watched Ssiina buy yet another trinket for far too much, Kyrae sighed and moved to get Issa. We should stick together—at least for Ssiina’s sake.

***

I’d just left with my new knife tucked safely inside my sleeve, angled so I could draw it out if needed, when I saw Kyrae walking toward me.

“Ssiina’s getting taken,” my sister said.

Alarmed, I snapped my head in our sister’s direction, only to find her calmly talking to a vendor selling seedlings in clay pots.

“Not that kind of taken!” Kyrae hissed.

Just as she did, I noticed all the things Ssiina must have bought, either carried in a satchel or worn by her. “Oh.”

“We should help her.”

“Should we?”

“Issa!”

“Fine… I was joking anyway.”

Kyrae took my hand to lead me through the market, then stopped. “You first, and remember I’m beside you so don’t bowl me over with your big scaled butt.”

I giggled and took the lead, weaving our way through the crowd to Ssiina. We weren’t far apart, and enough people shifted out of our way that we made it through the mess of serpentine lower bodies to coil up near my sister.

She was still at the seedling vendor, and I noticed they had a small shelf against the building behind them, loaded with smaller seedlings as well as small tools like trowels.

I do need to get Phaeliisthia a gift. She wouldn’t want anything flashy or fancy—she has that. She’d want something she could use, and lately I’d noticed her trowel was worse for wear.

“Kyrae, Issa,” Ssiina acknowledged with a broad smile. “Have you been enjoying the market?”

I nodded, and Kyrae replied with a yes.

“I’m going to teach you how to haggle,” my elf sister told Ssiina.

“Hmm?”

“There’s a lot more to it than just saying a lower number and meeting in the middle—a lot more.”

While the two of them talked, Kyrae carefully keeping her tone formal enough to maintain the illusion of hierarchy we’d done probably a poor job of, I looked at the trowels.

Each was simple: a bronze blade with a leather-wrapped handle. But they looked to be made well. “How much for a trowel?” I asked.

The vendor, a wiry lania’el man with the leathery skin of someone who spent much time outside, responded with a number.

I raised my eyebrows. Not from how high the price was, but from how reasonable it was. I guess this was still Uzh, after all, and the folk of this city were unusually candid.

Against my own better judgment, I asked to see the trowel. The vendor handed it to me like I wouldn’t steal it—probably because of what I was wearing. Glancing over it, it seemed simple and practical. Something that no one would think of as a gift for the Guardian of Uzh.

Something that she’d probably love because she would use. Most people I imagined assumed that servants tended Phaeliisthia’s garden, and while that was true, the serpent dragon herself spent just as much time digging, pruning, and weeding as anyone else.

I asked the vendor to repeat the price, I replied with a lower amount, and we simply met in the middle. After thanking him, I turned to find an exasperated Kyrae and a smug Ssiina both looking at me. Behind them, the once-dense crowd was quickly thinning as people headed towards where the play was to be held. If we wanted to see it, we should leave soon as well.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“See!” Ssiina gestured to the trowel. “Issa haggled the same way I do!”

“Issa,” Kyrae asked. “Why?”

I shrugged. “It was a fair price. Not all the vendors here are as cutthroat as in Ess’Siijiil or Ess’Sylantziis.”

“Can you at least tell Hssen Ssiina that this isn’t typical?”

I looked at my hssen-raised sister whose smug grin was deflating and shook my head. “It really isn’t normal. We’ll teach you how to haggle, don’t worry. Honestly, you’ll probably love the process.”

“I imagine anyone of noble birth would enjoy learning such a skill,” a warm voice said from nearby.

I realized immediately that I’d been paying less attention to the shadows for a while now—especially during the knife purchase I made.

We all looked over and saw the voice’s owner: a ke’lania woman who looked only a little older than us. She was wearing fine clothes of blue and white—but the blue was a different shade than the man Ssiina had put into a canal earlier.

She wore her long black hair straight over one shoulder into a loose braid near the tips, and her gray-blue eyes complemented her blue-green scales.

“Hello,” Ssiina greeted. “I am Ssiina Ssyri’jiilits. These two beside me are the other students of Phaeliisthia.”

“Greetings, Hssen Ssiina.” The woman—ussen probably—bowed. “I am Ysta Ssyt.”

Ysta Ssyt. I knew the Ssyt family controlled Kii’Hssiil province, where Ess’Siijiil was, but the name Ysta specifically was familiar. I couldn’t place my finger on it, though.

I bowed appropriately rather than risk thinking for too long. “I am Issa.”

My sister did the same. “I am Kyrae.”

“I hope you three are enjoying Tuo’Antzin,” Ussen Ysta said warmly.

“We are,” Ssiina answered for us, not untruthfully.

I realized Ussen Ysta glanced my way, so I nodded and she smiled. “Wonderful! Would you mind indulging my idle curiosity? That the enigmatic Guardian of Uzh has taken students is a most interesting fact, and I would greatly enjoy learning what I may.”

“To what end?” Ssiina asked with surprising bluntness.

Ussen Ysta tittered. “My own curiosity, I’ll admit. I am a sigilist myself, and I would love to glean what insights I may from perhaps the most accomplished practitioner outside the Temple—or her students.”

“So you wish to learn secret techniques?” Kyrae pressed.

Ussen Ysta’s smile turned apologetic. “I suppose you’ve seen through me in my eagerness. Yes, I would love to—but I’ll satisfy myself with learning what you are comfortable telling me. Perhaps there is even some insight the Ssyt family can give you in return?”

Ssiina narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps.”

“We did want to catch the play, didn’t we Hssen Ssiina?” I tried to change the subject. Ussen Ysta seemed earnest to me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncomfortable familiarity.

“That we did, Issa.” Ssiina said. “If you’ll excuse us…”

Ussen Ysta bowed again. “Certainly, although I am to watch it as well. Might we at least make our way there together?”

Ssiina gave Kyrae and me questioning looks. I shrugged despite my reservations.

“That is fine with us, Ussen Ysta,” Ssiina said.

“Wonderful!” the uncomfortably-familiarly-named woman said with an exuberant smile. “Please, lead the way!” Ssiina started to lead us, and Ussen Ysta continued, “Oh, and I might only be second cousin to the Ssyt family head, but I have an area reserved for me that is far too large if you wish to join me.”

Second cousin? I shivered at the words. I’m so close to remembering!

“Issa, are you alright?” Kyrae asked.

“Fine,” I muttered.

Ssiina glanced my way before turning her head back to our hanger-on. “That is awfully convenient, Ussen Ysta.”

“Truthfully, I’d wanted to talk to you earlier, but the ssyri’ssen with you seemed rather important, and you disappeared into the crowd after.”

Second Cousin Ysta…

“Fine. We should be able to find our own coiling anyway,” Ssiina said curtly.

Admonished, Ysta lowered her head, and said nothing.

When she did, a flash of memory came to me. It was Nyss’s voice…

“Just her. Ussen Ssyt’s second cousin Ysta won’t be missed.”

I froze in place. I had been leaving to kill Ussen Ysta Ssyt the night I killed Nyss.