The Iron Traitor, Page 20

Page 20

 

  Someone pushed past me from behind, jostling me with barely a grunt of apology. I stepped farther into the bar and glanced back for Annwyl, nearly lost in the shadows.

  “All right,” I muttered, stepping up to the fireplace and turning to face the doors. Annwyl followed silently. “So, according to the dryads, we just have to turn widdershins three times and walk out the door on the right—left now, since we came inside—and we’ll be in the market. ” I checked my watch to make sure it was 12:00 a. m. Six minutes past midnight. “On three?”

  She nodded, and on my signal, we closed our eyes and spun counterclockwise in place three times, me feeling slightly ridiculous and hoping no one was watching.

  On the first two circles, nothing happened. But when we completed the third, I opened my eyes to find the inside of the bar had. . . changed. It wasn’t full of fey. The lights and tables and patrons sat where they had always been; really nothing had moved. But everything around us was slightly out of focus. Conversations were muted, and everything seemed to be going in slow motion.

  Except us. And the door a few yards away. It stood out sharply against the blurred, hazy backdrop, the opening shimmering like heat waves. That was it. Our entrance to the goblin market.

  I nudged Annwyl, and together we walked across the floor, past indistinct shadows and nearly frozen candle flames, and ducked through the opening.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SECRETS FOR SECRETS

  Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore was the cheesy first thought that went through my head as we stepped out into the street.

  Noise surrounded us—not the muffled sounds of cars and street traffic at night, but the louder, garbled sounds of a huge crowd. “Normal” Bourbon Street had disappeared; though I could see it was still the same stretch of pavement, the same buildings lining the sidewalks, it was definitely not the same world. Streetlamps had been replaced with torches and faery fire, orbs of blue-white flame floating overhead. There were no cars, but horse-drawn carriages glided down the road—only the horses’ hooves never touched the ground, and their eyes glowed blue in the shadows. The buildings, though they looked the same at first, appeared old and run-down on closer inspection, covered in vines and moss, as if we had stepped back in time a hundred years.

  And of course, there were the fey.

  They were everywhere, milling about the road in huge numbers, faeries of every shape, size and description. Short, warty goblins with beady eyes and huge ears. Hulking ogres, their thick knuckles dragging along the ground as they lumbered by. Redcaps flashing their shark-toothed grins at everyone. Rail-thin bogeys hiding in the shadows and narrow crevices. And faeries I didn’t have a name for, all wandering down Bourbon Street, looking like the world’s largest freak convention.

  Oh, this was going to suck.

  Shrugging off my backpack, I pulled out my swords and slipped them onto my belt. No way I was going out there unarmed. Taking out my jacket, I shrugged into it and pulled up the hood, hoping it would shield me from any curious looks. And if my luck held, hide the fact that I was human long enough to find Keirran and get out of here without trouble.

  Glancing at Annwyl, who looked slightly overwhelmed as well, I grimaced. “Ready for this?”

  “No,” she replied, her eyes wide. “But. . . lead the way. ”

  We slipped onto the crowded road, moving more slowly than I would’ve liked. Faeries weren’t the only thing making the street difficult to navigate. Booths and wooden tables were arranged in narrow aisles down the pavement, displaying the weirdest merchandise you’d ever see in your life: weeping fish and glass eyes and jewelry made of bones and teeth. Bird skeletons, crystal balls, shriveled hands and hats that whispered to you as you passed. A yellow-eyed woman in gypsy robes caught my eye and grinned, beckoning me toward her booth, waving a deck of cards in her long fingers. A kimono-clad girl with fox ears peeking from her hair gave me a coy smile, fluttering a fan and pointing to her table of rice cakes. I ignored them all and hurried on.

  After several minutes of wandering the aisles and dodging requests by persistent vendors to take a look at their goods, it became pretty apparent that the chances of just stumbling into Keirran were slim to none. This place was massive; I could walk right past the Iron Prince and never know. Luckily, that hadn’t been my only plan. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, though, because it meant I was going to have to do something I hated and tried to avoid at all costs.

  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.