Lost in the Moment and Found (Wayward Children #8)(17)

She looked nothing like the cat-people around her, but none of them stopped her or even looked at her twice. She passed stalls selling fruit she’d never seen before; stalls selling nuts roasted and poured into twists of paper; stalls selling flowers and jams and jellies and what looked like jars of golden honey. Everywhere she looked, there was something new to see.

Despite the impossible crowd, she caught several glimpses of Vineta, who didn’t seem to be following her, only making her own way through the market; Vineta’s attention was on the merchants who took her strange copper coins in exchange for the items she placed in her basket. Antsy kept walking, and felt better when Vineta didn’t follow. The idea of an adult following her right now was …

It wasn’t good. She might never know exactly what Tyler had intended, but she knew she had been lucky to escape it, and she knew she didn’t ever want to be in that position again, not even with a little old lady who looked like a stiff wind might knock her over. Antsy kept following the scent in the air.

Then she came around a corner, and there was the stall. It was being operated by a bright blue cat-person with paler blue rosettes on their cheeks, wearing another of those long robes, and the counter was covered in an assortment of baked goods that would have put every bakery she’d ever passed to shame. There were croissants and danishes, and folded pastries she didn’t know the names for but that she longed to taste. Her stomach growled. Antsy drifted closer, until the merchant took notice.

“A traveler child,” the merchant said, sounding surprised but not displeased. His words were a little oddly shaped, accented by the shape of his muzzle, but they were comprehensible all the same. Antsy met his eyes and froze, not sure what to do.

The merchant blinked, whiskers shifting forward in a way that meant friendliness and curiosity from a smaller cat. “To here, or to somewhere close on here? We don’t often see furless travelers in the market. You tend to be uncomfortable and can’t read us half the time, and so it seems likely you might be from somewhere close.”

“I, um,” said Antsy. Then, with an air of desperation, “I have money. I’m supposed to buy whatever interests me and put it in my basket and then go back to the door. Hudson’s keeping it open so we can go back when we’re done with the shopping. He didn’t come shopping because he’s a bird.”

“Yes, this is not a good place for birds,” said the merchant. “I’ll make you a bargain, traveler child: reach into whatever purse you have, and give me the first thing your fingers touch. I’ll give you twice its value in pastry, as a gift of welcome, and I’ll tell you which way you should go next, if you’re meant to buy whatever interests you.”

“Everything is interesting here,” said Antsy, a little plaintively. But it was true. This place was so new, so unfamiliar, and so brightly colored, it felt like she’d been dropped in the middle of a parade on television, or in an amusement park the way they looked in the commercials, where there were no lines and no sunburns and princesses appeared with open arms every time you went around a corner. It was all so much.

“Yes, but a thing being interesting doesn’t mean it has to interest you,” said the merchant. “That’s what a market test is, for you travelers; it’s to see if you have good instincts when it comes to what catches your eye. And so far, I’d say you’re passing. I make the best pastries in this whole market. Not the cheapest, but I have the finest butter and the hottest oven, and what I lack in affordability, I balance out with quality.”

For the first time, Antsy looked alarmed. “What if the first thing my fingers touch isn’t even worth a roll?”

“Then I’ll give you whatever you ask for anyway, as welcome and well-met.” The merchant’s whiskers pushed forward again. Oh, that had to be a smile. There was no other way to explain it. Antsy smiled back, careful not to show her teeth. She remembered dogs didn’t like it when people showed their teeth, and maybe cats were the same way.

She reached into the envelope she’d been given, brushing her fingers against the top of what felt like a solid wall of coins. Then she grasped the first one that distinguished itself from the rest and pulled it out, revealing a flat silvery disc about the size of a half-dollar, with a stern-looking cat-person in three-quarters profile and tiny, unfamiliar writing all around the edges. She held it solemnly out toward the merchant, whose eyes widened.

“I did not offer you a kindly bargain to cheat you,” he said, in a strangled voice.

Antsy frowned, glancing to the coin in her palm and then back up again. “Is this not enough?” she asked.

“Child, that is … that is a silver phoenix, from the reign of our first Empress. It’s worth more than my entire stall put together.”

“But we made a deal,” said Antsy. “And when Vineta gave me this money, she did it expecting me to spend it. Can we make another deal?”

“What deal would that be?” asked the merchant, eyes still on the coin.

“I give you the coin, and you let me have whatever I want from the things you’re selling, then you give the rest away to whoever wants it, and you come show me around the market for a little while. I’ll be able to relax and look at things more if I’m not afraid of getting lost, and you can tell me if I’m trying to pay someone who’s not as honest as you are more than I should.”