If Rin bounced any higher, he would fly to the clouds. Lapis wanted to smack him down to the muddy streets, but decided she did not want to deal with whatever sly thing he would do in retaliation. Or maybe he would annoy Lykas to the point the rat would smack him for her. By his sullen, pissed-cat glare, she did not think he enjoyed the exuberance either.
Ciaran had offered to accompany her, but she knew his presence would scare her stake into silence. Rin and Lykas, however, would not, so she had two apprentices in tow rather than a rebel as backup. She hoped they appreciated the implied trust.
The crisp winds caused her to shudder, and she thankfully scurried into the Night Market’s warm interior. Despite the guards making rounds screaming about curfew, workers who wanted a meal and entertainment packed the place. More customers stood around waiting for tables than she normally saw, and she wondered how many other establishments the city guards had frightened into closing during the early evening.
Rin and Lykas breathed deep and smiled. Lapis did the same; she loved the scent of the Night Market. Smells of fried meats and fresh breads wafted through the air, accompanied by the delicate sweet of sugared pastries and the pungent spices that flavored foods from across Theyndora. She loved the lighting as well; the dim fruit oil yellow gave the atmosphere a homey, cozy feel, despite the number of people who dined, shopped, and entertained there.
She glanced up at the mezzanine through the large square hole over the center of the food court, and by the number of heads bobbing over the railing, the markets were busy as well. The entertainment areas were probably overflowing, making their search for the fixer more difficult.
The better-lit second-floor markets hustled, and the one that sold Dentherion-specific food swelled with shoppers. If tourists stranded in Jilvayna were short on funds but wanted the taste of home—or couldn’t afford another establishment—it made sense they visited the famous Night Market. Hopefully their stake was not among them; with so many bodies milling around, they could easily miss him.
Seating for the theater at the end of the shops was shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, with people spilling into the walkway and standing on tip-toe to see the outrageous comedy act taking place on the not-high-enough stage. A nice seller lent them a box to stand on—Lady Lanth in a hood meant she was on a stake, and helping always thrilled the bored shopkeeps—and Rin, as the tallest, peered over the heads. He finally jumped down with a shrug, and the keep took her box back, disappointed. She bought a Ramiran flaky pastry as thanks for the assistance and divided it between the three of them as they made their way to the upper floor.
Lapis never had the funds for third-floor entertainment; the food was expensive, and the nightly theater performances targeted the fallen nobility and wealthier merchants who lived in the Grey and Stone Streets rather than the average, lower-class customer. She only stepped foot inside when on a stake, and then only a handful of times, which kept her uncomfortable and wary among the wanna-be elites.
The stern bouncer glanced at her, at the chasing writ she displayed, and nodded to the curtained doorway. She murmured thanks, relieved that Night Market employees never demanded bribes during official chases, and slipped inside.
The atmosphere was always dim in the dining room, with only tabletop fruit oil lamps and the stage lights as illumination. Delectable smells came from rich dishes, with the punch of smoke and alcohol underlying the fare. Servers moved between guests, but not with the ease or quiet of a normal night.
Bored Dentherions stood in the generous space between the black-swathed tables, much in the way and heckling the stage where actors clashed with swords that bent and wobbled in unnatural ways. Their ostentatious, gem-bright clothing, their gleaming jewelry, their stiff curls and gelled hair, their offended side-eye looks targeting the locals who dined . . . it all spoke of wealth and unearned privilege. The poor staff, suffering under the harshness of tourists needing to take out their anger at being stranded on someone else.
“Hidin’ like usual,” Rin murmured. He patted her arm then took the lead, weaving through the customers standing against the charcoal grey walls at the back, complaining about the lack of accommodation. A couple made disparaging remarks about them and only her sharp “No” kept Rin and Lykas from casting ill-thought retorts their way. They did not need a fight with a snarly Dentherion intent on making others as miserable as themselves.
Sitting at the table in the far back corner was Diz. He held an entire wine bottle, and by the look of his pristine jacket with shiny shell buttons, slicked brown hair, and neatly trimmed fuzzy beard, he meant to have fun during the outing, not sell info. Then why entertain another chaser? She recognized Nolin and wondered what he needed from the man.
“Lady!” Diz called, raising a hand and motioning to her. Interesting, that he hailed them instead of hunching down and running away. Maybe the crowds kept him rooted. She nodded, taking the opportunity to scooch behind annoyed tourists so she could stand next to the table. “Didn’t ‘spect yous t’ be here t’night. You knows Nolin?”
“Yes.”
Nolin nodded to them. He looked better than the last time she saw him, so his stake payouts must have improved. Good. The guardhouses had enjoyed stiffing chasers on pay, but the community centers had a reputation to build, and correct compensation on stakes went a long way to raising their esteem.
“He might’ve gotten a tidbit for you,” Diz continued, tipping the bottom of his bottle at the chaser. Nolin’s slashing glare made her smile, though she wondered why the fixer took an active interest. He typically brokered info and then bailed first chance.
“That’s welcome news, if so.”
“Take a seat,” Diz said, waving at the one next to him.
“Thank you,” she said, sinking onto the padding. “I’m surprised you still have an empty chair, considering the crowds.”
Diz wrinkled his face into an unattractive snarl and took a swig from the bottle. “Ain’t no Dentherion shank gonna make me give up m’ table ‘n seats.”
“I wouldn’t give it up, either. You paid to be here, just like they did. So what have you got, Nolin?”
The chaser’s tenseness dwindled, and he sighed before running a hand through his blond locks. “I don’t know how important it is.”
“If Diz is pushing, it must have some weight to it.” She smiled with Lady Lanth sweetness. “And I’ll make it worth your while.”
Diz, rather than Nolin, leaned forward, scrunching up the black tablecloth with his stocky chest, his intense brown gaze tweaking her unease. “Lady, not that there’s lotsa rumors, mind, but they’s sayin’ in some circles, you hooked up with the rebel Leader. Intimate-like.”
Intimate-like? “He’s my brother. And I’m certain you know, if you breathe a word of that, Patch will want to have a talk.” Of course Diz would want to sell the info, but she knew, his fear of her partner would keep him silent.
“It’s not what you’s thinkin’,” he breathed. “Got a local group t’gether, t’ get better workin’ conditions at the docks. We knows this trouble in Dentheria’s crossin’ borders ‘n we’s not safe. Wanna have a talk, see iffen we c’n gets associated.” He sucked in a huge breath. “I’s in the info business, Lady. I’s hearin’ things, ‘n I knows it’s bad times comin’. Knows Granna Cup’s upta somethin’, too, so’s Underville’s not panickin’.”
She chuckled. “Worried, Diz? Granna Cup’s fine. And if she’ll vouch for you, I think we can work something out.”
“Y’should bring Tana with you,” Rin murmured. “Then they’d know yer serious. ‘N Lady? Lookin’ likes we gots interest in our meetin’ here.”
“Beryl,” Diz grumbled. “Heard they’s been cleanin’ up, ‘cause the Pit keeps all secrets.”
Wondrous. “Nolin?” she asked.
“I’m with you.”
“Good. Diz, if you don’t mind the hike, the Eaves is a safer spot to talk than this table. With Lykas and Nolin as company, you should get there without trouble. Lykas, grab the first rat and tell them to get Ciaran and Sherridan, then see me for a silver.”
“Lady, you're not comin’?” Diz asked, arching a shaggy brow as he slid down from his chair. His worry made her rethink her hasty plan, but unless she wanted to make a scene, she had no other way to slip him from the Beryl’s grasp.
“Rin and I are good at distractions,” she assured him. “We’ll meet up presently.”
“Them’s hunters, y’know.”
“Lady’s aware,” Rin said as he took the seat the fixer vacated and put his boots on top of the table. “No worries. We’s faced worse’n Beryl, these last few weeks.”
If he referred to khentauree, she agreed. “And Diz? When I get to the Eaves, I want to know everything you do about Mibi, Klow, and Mesaalle Kez.”
He huffed on strained laughter. “Funny, that.” He patted her shoulder and followed an impatient Lykas in the opposite direction of the room’s entrance.
“I’ll keep them safe.” Nolin rose and stretched, unhurried, as if they parted after a long night drinking together. “I think Diz’s lookin' for a haven. The Beryl wanted him to forge some docs, and when he realized what they were, he refused. They didn’t take kindly to the most underhanded fixer in Jiy tellin' them to go jump in the Pit.”
“Thank you for the help, and he wouldn’t have been so nice, if he didn’t want something in return. You know how painful it is to pry info from him without silvers of sweetener.”
“Bane of my existence,” he laughed.
And now that bane had brought unwanted friends to the gathering. It did not surprise her, Diz’s fixer ways caught him. Time to put on a ‘keeper hat and hope she did not regret her generosity.
