by Julie Kagawa
Bargain with the fey.
I searched the market until I found a booth that sold “potions for all ills,” run by a well-dressed, ancient-looking gnome. He stood on a stool beside a counter full of different-size vials and bottles. Vial of Forgetfulness, one read, next to a large display of Minor Love Potions and Jars of Friendship. The gnome blinked as we came up, raising an eyebrow that looked like a fuzzy gray caterpillar.
“Human?” His voice squeaked like a centuries-old mouse. “Unusual. How did you find your way into the market?”
“Does it matter?” I asked him, keeping my head down and my voice low.
The gnome sniffed, and his voice turned wheedling. “No, I suppose not. But while you’re here, how ’bout you buy one of my wares? I have a lovely selection of love potions. Guaranteed to work, you know. You have that pining aura all around you, boy.” He grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “Or perhaps there is a rival? This lovely vial right here will turn your enemy into a cockroach.”
“No,” I said, repressing a shiver. “I’m just looking for someone, a friend of mine. Part human, silver hair, my age.” I didn’t say exactly who he was; the gnome definitely would’ve recognized him, but I didn’t want word spreading that we were looking for the Iron Prince. If the vendor had seen him, he’d know who I was talking about. “Have you seen him? And if you haven’t, do you know of anyone who might have?”
As I was talking, I swung my bag off my shoulders, unzipped it and reached into the side pocket. The gnome gave me a sly grin, but before he could say anything about cost, I pulled out a full bottle of honey and plunked it on the table.
He blinked. “What’s this?
“Payment,” I replied flatly. “For information.”
“Hmm.” The gnome regarded it appraisingly, trying not to look eager, though I saw it anyway. “I do use honey in a lot of my potions, but I don’t know if that will be enough of a trade...”
I snatched the bottle off the counter and turned. “Fine. We’ll just find someone else.”
“Wait! Wait.” The gnome threw out his hand, scowling. “Very well.” He sniffed. “You drive a hard bargain, human. Give that to me, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Still wary, I handed it over, placing it within reach this time. The vendor snatched it up, sniffed the cap deeply and smiled. Tossing it behind the table, he turned back to me with a grin.
“Sorry, human. Haven’t seen him.”
I breathed deeply to stop myself from punching this faery in his smirking head. “That’s not what I asked.”
“You wanted me to tell you if I’ve seen your friend.” The gnome sounded smug. “And I answered. I haven’t seen anyone like that around here. I gave you the information we agreed on, human. This bargain is done.”
Dammit, this was why I hated faeries. I didn’t have many bargaining chips left, and we still didn’t know where Keirran could be. At least we hadn’t been negotiating for something important, like my voice or my future kid. I’d have to word any requests very carefully next time.
But before I could say or do anything else, Annwyl spoke up, startling us both.
“No,” she said, coming around to stand beside me. Her voice was firm, shockingly different than the shy, quiet girl I’d known so far. “Not everything. You’re ‘forgetting’ the second part of the question. Do you know of anyone who might have seen our friend? This market has an information broker, does it not? Where can we find it?”
“Ahhh.” The gnome shuffled his feet, not meeting Annwyl’s fierce glare. I was still staring at her in shock and also kicking myself for not catching that myself. “Well, like I said,” he muttered, “I haven’t seen your friend. But there is an information broker around here, I believe.”
“Where?” Annwyl asked, her tone hard.
“She has a tent two blocks down,” the gnome said, pointing with a crooked finger. “Not very obvious—you’ll have to be looking for it to see it. Just keep an eye out for the crows.” He glared at me. “And you’ll have to have something better than a jar of honey to get the information you’re looking for. She ain’t nearly as nice as I am.”
Oh, goody. More bargains. Wonder what this faery will want. If it even mentions my firstborn kid, I swear I’m going to punch something.
Without another word, Annwyl turned and headed back into the market. Giving the gnome one last glare, I followed.
“I thought you didn’t remember anything about goblin markets,” I said as we dodged around a booth to avoid a troll stalking by, sharp tusks curling from his jaw. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I was just surprised. Are you starting to remember?”
“No,” Annwyl said, back to being quiet and shy, not looking at me. “But I’ve made a few bargains in my lifetime, and I know my way around the tricks and loopholes.” Her voice hardened. “I wasn’t going to let that gnome get away with not telling us about Keirran.”
“Well.” I exhaled, suddenly very glad that she was there. “You’ll have to help me out with this information broker, then. I’ve avoided making deals with the fey my entire life, so I’m a little rusty.” I glanced around the market, with all its crazy, surreal merchandise and vendors, and repressed a shiver. “I swore I’d never do this,” I groaned. “So, just poke me if I’m about to bargain away my voice or something.”
Annwyl nodded solemnly, and we continued deeper into the goblin market.
* * *
The market thinned out a couple blocks down. Booths and tables still lined the sidewalks, but not as many, though there were still crowds of fey milling between them. I kept my head down and my hood up as I skirted the edges of the booths, searching for anything that might be our mysterious information broker. Keep an eye out for the crows, the gnome vendor had said. What was that supposed to mean?
“Any idea what we’re looking for?” Annwyl murmured at my shoulder.
I was about to reply when I caught a split-second glance of a figure gliding through the crowds of fey. A girl...with long raven hair streaked with blue. My heart gave a violent lurch and I turned quickly, running into someone in my haste.
“Excuse me.”
The faery I’d bumped into turned, a tall Winter sidhe with a furry white cloak draped over her shoulders, the head of a fox peering sightlessly down at me. Her tone was as icy as her eyes and hair. “What’s this?” she said, glaring down her nose at me and Annwyl. “A dirty little human and a Summer harlot. Did you touch me, human?” Her blue lips curled with distaste. “I will never get the stench out of my cloak.”
“Sorry,” I said hastily, backing away. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, but you did, all the same.” The Winter faery’s voice was cruel, and she snapped her fingers. Three trolls stepped out of the crowd, boxing us in. They were bigger than the normal variety, their skin pale blue instead of green, their lank hair white. They growled, baring curved tusks, flexing long black claws. The Winter faery’s lips curved in a slow smile. “I believe compensation is in order,” she purred as my hands twitched for my swords. “Or I will have my pets take it out of your hide.”
“Milady, please,” Annwyl began.
“Silence, Summer filth,” the Winter lady snapped, giving Annwyl a look of pure hatred. “You’re lucky the mortal was the one to transgress. I would have ripped out your weak Summer heart and fed it as a treat to my pets. Dare to speak to me again, and I will.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I snapped, pulling my weapons. “Unless you want to take home three less pets than you started out with.” The trolls surrounding us snarled, but the sidhe woman laughed. I bristled at that laugh but tried to keep my voice reasonable. I did not want to fight three scary-ass trolls in the middle of a goblin market. But I also did not want to bargain with a Winter gentry, not now. “I don’t want any trouble,” I told the faery, who offered a patronizing smile in return. “Just let us go, and we can get on with our lives.”
“I don’t think so, little human.” Her eyes narrowed to b
lue slits, though that sadistic smile didn’t waver. “And I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do. So, what’s it to be, mortal?” She edged closer, looming over us. “What do you have to offer for your pathetic blunder?”
“Nothing,” I snarled, raising my swords. “I don’t have anything.”
“What he means to say,” interrupted a new voice, making my heart stop, “is that he has to wait for me to make any bargains on his behalf.”
The faery turned, the trolls grunted and I stared...as Kenzie pushed her way into the circle and stood in front of me, facing down the sidhe. Annwyl gasped, but I couldn’t move or even make a sound.
“Another human,” the gentry mused. “The market is practically infested with them tonight. Well, go on, then, mortal.” She waved an airy hand at the girl. “Tell me who you are, before I have my pets rip off the boy’s head and turn his skin into a new cloak for me.”
“You don’t need to know my name,” Kenzie said in a clear, unwavering voice. “All you need to know is that I can pay for whatever he—” she jerked her head back, though she didn’t look at me “—owes you.”
“No!” I started toward her, but one of the trolls moved. Lightning fast, it lashed out with a huge fist, slamming me in the stomach. Pain exploded through my gut, and all the air left my lungs. Gasping, I dropped to my knees on the pavement, feeling the world spin around me and trying not to hurl.
Annwyl sank down, trying to help me up as the trolls closed in, growling. Kenzie spared me a brief, frightened look, then turned back to the Winter faery, holding something out to her. From my angle on the ground, I couldn’t see what it was.
“Here!” Kenzie said as I struggled to get up, to stop her. “You can have this. Take it and leave us alone.”
The sidhe’s thin eyebrows rose. “A Token?” she mused, unable to mask her surprise. “Well, how very generous, little mortal.” She reached out, plucking something bright from Kenzie’s hand, and snapped her fingers. The trolls backed off, still growling, but retreated until they stood behind the Winter faery. “I suppose this will do,” she said, and her gaze strayed to me, still on the ground. “You’re very fortunate, boy. Next time, I will have your lovely eyes on a string. Run on home, before you get in real trouble, mortals. You don’t belong here.”
She glided off, her trolls stumping along behind her, and the small crowd that had been watching dispersed.
I rose, breathing slowly, carefully, to make sure none of my ribs were broken. “I’m all right,” I rasped, to ease the concern on both Annwyl’s and Kenzie’s faces. But while Annwyl hovered anxiously, her green eyes solemn and worried, Kenzie remained where she was, watching me with a mixture of concern, wariness and anger.
My shock hadn’t faded. I didn’t know what to feel; my insides were such a chaotic, churning mess of emotion, I didn’t know what to settle on. Relief that she was here. Anger that she was here and not safe with her family. Astonishment that she had found us. A horrible, gnawing guilt that I had ditched her, left her behind while I went looking for the fey.
And of course, there was that knowledge that she had just saved us. Again. I remembered Kenzie’s quick thinking in the Nevernever, when I’d been in trouble and she’d managed to turn it around. The odds hadn’t looked good for me a few seconds ago, either. Those trolls probably would’ve torn my arms off.
Why didn’t you want her to come, again?
Oh yeah. Because she was gravely ill. Because there was a creepy faery assassin following me around. And because, no matter what she said, the world of Faery and everything in it was dangerous.
And I couldn’t lose her to Faery the way I’d lost Meghan.
“Kenzie, what are you doing here?” I snapped, which didn’t come out as strong as I wanted as my lungs were still a bit flattened. “How did you even find us?” Her eyes flashed and shifted all the way to anger.
“I asked around,” she replied, glaring at me. “You’re not the only one who can see the fey anymore, remember? When we got here, I kept my eyes open and found a faery living in the hotel we’re staying at. A brownie, I think. He was all too happy to tell me how to find and get to the goblin market.”
“Dammit, Kenzie,” I growled, glaring back at her. “What did you give him for that information?”
She raised her chin. “I brought a whole suitcase full of gifts and bribes, tough guy. It’s amazing how far costume jewelry will get you.”
Relief spread through me. At least she hadn’t come unprepared, though, really, what had I expected from her? It wasn’t even that much of a shock that she had found her way with little to no information. Kenzie would always find a way, whether it was a good idea or not.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I insisted, and her expression darkened.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now,” Kenzie shot back. “So unless you’re going to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman and cart me out, I’m not going anywhere.”
I clenched my fists, wondering how badly she would hurt me if I did just that. But Annwyl moved up beside me and touched my arm.
“Ethan, look,” she murmured, nodding to something across the street.
Tearing my attention from Kenzie, I followed Annwyl’s gaze. On the other side of the road, I caught sight of a line of birds perched along a telephone wire, black and nearly invisible against the darkness. Below them sat a plain, nondescript tent, also nearly invisible against the carnival-like backdrop of the market.
Kenzie glanced at the line of birds and the tent beneath it. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. “Crows,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Am I missing something? I thought we were here for Keirran. Do we think he’s in there?”
I slumped. “No,” I muttered, picking up my dropped swords and sheathing them at my waist. No use in standing around arguing. Kenzie was here, and she wasn’t leaving. I was certain she’d lay into me about it later, but right now, we needed to find what we were looking for and get out. “But it’s a place where someone might know where he is. Just...we have to be careful. I don’t think honey and fake jewelry are going to work here.”
Kenzie still looked pissed but gave a stiff nod. Still, something nagged at me, and I caught up to her as we crossed the road, heading for the tent. “Wait, what did you give that Winter faery?” I asked in a low voice as we passed under the telephone wires, hearing soft, garbled caws overhead. “She said it was a Token.” A Token, in faery terms, was an item that had been so loved, hated or cherished in real life, it had actually developed a life of its own. The item, whatever it was, became the embodiment of that emotion and was like a lump of pure glamour to the fey. “That wasn’t costume jewelry, was it?” I asked, and Kenzie swallowed.
“No,” she whispered, not looking at me. “It was...my mom’s ring. I was saving it, in case I needed something really valuable to offer for trade.”
I stopped, looking at her in horror. “Kenzie...”
“It’s fine, Ethan.” But she still didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t regret it. And it was the only thing I could think of.”
The guilt I’d felt before was nothing compared to the bone-crushing weight I felt now, squeezing the air from my lungs. I didn’t know whether to apologize or yell at her for doing something so stupid, giving up something so precious, for me. But Kenzie walked doggedly forward, head and back straight, and ducked through the tent flaps at the edge of the sidewalk. Annwyl and I had no choice but to follow.
The inside of the tent was dark, musty and warm. Orange candle glow flickered around us, on tables and hanging lanterns, and the air smelled of bark, dust and animal droppings, making me stifle a cough.
Near the back of the tent, a ragged, hooded figure sat in the center of what looked like a huge nest. Twigs, string, grass stalks and branches were woven into each other, surrounding the hunched form in the middle of the nest. A pair of crows perched on the edge, regarding us with shiny black eyes.
The figure in the center of the nest stirred, cocking its h
ead like it was listening for us. “Visitors,” it rasped, its voice low and harsh. “Step forward.”
We eased up to the tangle of sticks and branches, where one of the crows cawed and aimed a sharp peck at the side of my face, making me flinch. The robed figure burbled a laugh.
“Watch your eyes,” it warned. “They like shiny things.”
I eyed the crow warily, then noticed something else. The bottom of the nest was covered with feathers, string and bird droppings, but beads of brilliant color glinted among the offal. Rings, keys, earrings, buttons and other shiny objects were scattered about as well, but even they seemed dull compared to the glowing orbs of color lying among feathers and bird crap. Eyes shining with fascination, Kenzie reached out to touch the closest one, but the hooded figure swatted her arm with a folded paper fan, and she pulled back with a yelp.
“No, no,” the figure rasped and raised its head. Beady eyes glinted under the cloth as I stared into the face of a huge raven, beak snapping in irritation. A scaly black talon reached out and plucked the bead that Kenzie had been reaching for, drawing it into its chest. “Secret is not for you. Not without a price.” The bird-thing rolled the glowing green marble back and forth in its claws and watched us, unblinking. “You seek information,” it said, its gaze settling on Annwyl. “All who come here seek information, secrets, hidden things.” It closed its talons, and the bead vanished. “Perhaps I have what you seek, yes? Ask. Ask.”
“What is the price?” Annwyl asked instead, echoing what I was thinking. “You spoke of a cost. What do you want for the information we seek?”
“Depends” was the croaked answer. “Depends on the secret, how well hidden it is, how hard it was to discover. Don’t know until you ask.” It clicked its beak with a grinding sound. “Ask,” it demanded again. “Ask. Then see if the price is too high to pay.”