By Divyansha Sehgal
Art by Kit Cronk
Rehan jumped in surprise and nursed his injured finger.
Anti-theft enchantments, he groaned. His fingers were still pulsing with pain, though there wasn’t much evidence of a burn. Given how often he came across them, Rehan should really have gotten better at identifying them by now. But the sellers mostly forgot about them after they did the spell, so it wasn’t information he could easily pluck from their minds. He was thankful that his instincts, honed over years of close scrapes, kicked in before he lost the use of his fingers.
The merchant nodded to him as he moved on to another stall. Rehan had spent the last 10 minutes talking up the man, learning about his day and how much he really wanted to make it to the inside of the Veil next year. There was a bit of hope and quite a lot of weariness that Rehan had collected while he pretended to be interested in the troubles of inventory update. There weren’t a lot of those who could see other people’s emotions, much less who could cut them and bind them to inanimate objects. As a result, totems and charms that could make people feel a certain way were very limited and fetched a good price. He deposited the hope and weariness he had collected in their respective pockets and shuffled the folds of his coat to find the one holding burn ointment. He hoped it would all hold until he got back to his workshop.
It didn’t.
Instead, one of his newly collected emotions turned into a liquid that soaked through the thick lining of his coat, turning it to a deeper shade of blue than it already was. His usually trusty coat was throwing a fit as it tried to attract his attention yet again to the tear in his side.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know,” he said to the garment. “Why do you think we’re here?”
The liquid dripped through the seam and onto his shoes.
“Wow seriously? Come On!” he muttered in frustration. “Stop dripping all over me. I just needed to check on the knife!”
He had been on his way into the Veil to collect some thread for repairs when he got distracted by a knife on one of the stalls by the entrance. He just so happened to have a set that was missing a knife of that particular shade of silver.
He felt another pocket start to lose its carefully constructed container enchantments.
“Fine, fine I’m going now! “he said. “You’re such a fussy thing!”
His coat had a lot more vanity than a piece of cloth should. But at least it stopped destroying everything.
Knife abandoned, he made finally made his way into the market for a very special old weaver.
*
Rehan double-checked to make sure he had the right tent. The rolls of fabric and stitched clothes that lined the tent suggested that he did. He was expecting an old woman hunched over a dress or a shirt that needed proper mending. Instead, he was faced with a young girl of no more than ten who repeated the same thing at him no matter what he tried to say.
“The lady of the shop is not here right now. Please come back tomorrow.”
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow if he needed his supplies to stay intact and not dissolve in a mess of goo in his pockets.
“It’s urgent. Maybe you can call her? Or someone who knows the shop?”
“I know the shop!” she said indignantly. “She’s busy. Please come back tomorrow.”
“I can’t. How about you sell me that blue thread,” He spotted the blue spool he needed on the display behind her.
“The lady of the shop isn’t here right now. I am not permitted to sell anything. Please come back tomorrow,” she recited her rehearsed line.
He sighed. He was tempted to just take the thread and be on his way. If it wasn’t the surest way to get banned from the market, he would do it too. He refused to be one of those who haunted the entrance of the Veil, away from all the real treasures just because he was stupid enough to think he could break the Watchers’ rules. Catcher’s Veil was the largest market of its kind anywhere in all the worlds. Enterprising merchants came together for the grand purpose of trade with the faith that their wares would not be stolen or tampered with before they had a chance to be sold. The Watchers maintained that faith and doled out consequences when it was broken.
He tried another tactic.
“Maybe you can trade me for the thread then?” he suggested.
“The lady of the shop is… “she began.
‘Is you now,” he interjected. “You’re a lady, are you not? And you’re here!”
She nodded.
“You’re the lady of the shop now! You can trade with me for the thread if you don’t want to sell it to me.”
She considered this carefully.
“Okay,” she said after significant thought. “What do you have to trade?”
“You could take some of my coins here.” He presented the right amount on his palm.
“That’s just selling,” she crossed her arms. “I thought you wanted to trade.”
“Okay then,” he said theatrically. He held his coat open so that the girl could look at the pockets that lined the inside. The coat was cooperating too. It showed off a lot more pockets than were usually present. Rehan used his other hand to select one with more flourish than was necessary and pulled out a ring. He offered it to the girl. “The ladies of the pink mountain love this particular gem.”
She inspected the ring. It was a simple gold band with a pink rock that shone in the sunlight.
“It’s beautiful!” she said, her eyes shining. “But Mama would never let me wear it anywhere.” She returned the ring to him, and he deposited it back into its spot.
“How about this?” he asked pulling about a doll about 3 feet high from one his pocket. Girls liked dolls, didn’t they?
The girl gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the toy. He could tell she was impressed. But she returned it to him all the same.
“I can’t keep this. I’d have to share with my younger sister, and then it would just get ruined. She doesn’t have any sense of propriety,” She said with emphasis on that last work. He had a feeling she’d recently learned it.
“So, no jewels and no toys that your little sister can ruin,” he said. “I have a game I think you’ll like. You can play it with all your friends!” he began digging around in his coat again.
He didn’t need to be able to see emotions to know he had struck a nerve there. The girl’s face, which had until now been proper and business-like, fell.
“No need sir,” she said sadly. “Misha had to move away with her parents. The other kids and I don’t like each other very much.”
He could understand that. He grew up with 3 brothers and it hadn’t always been easy. He was the youngest, and so the easiest to pick on. He’d learned very early how to be the fastest and the quietest person in the room so he didn’t draw any attention unless he explicitly wanted to. He’d spent a lot of time away from people and found the best ways of entertaining himself.
“I have just the thing for you,” he said.
Rehan pulled out a small book from the folds of his coat and handed it to the girl. He watched her face light up as she flipped through the pages. “What’s it about?” she asked.
“Everything.” He replied. “It’s is the book of endless stories. There will always be a new story in there every time you need one.”
She stared at the book in her hand and then at him with confusion. “It doesn’t seem to have a lot of pages.”
“It’s a very special book,” he said mischievously. “So, what do you say? Is that a fair trade?”
She nodded, grinning.
She stepped on the chair behind her and pulled out the spools of blue thread that Rehan had pointed out. She found a pair of needles, stuck them on the thread and handed the bundle to him. He slipped them into his coat with the rest of his weaving supplies.
“Pleasure doing business with you!” he waved as he left the tent.
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