would have hurried right here to tell you herself,” he said before remembering he wasn’t supposed to speak. But Vada looked quietly pleased as Dorinda’s cheeks flushed. Leo felt the best course of action was to leave as quickly as possible.
“Vada, come,” he said sharply. He turned without waiting and strode off through the crowds with no idea where he was going. Tents in bright colors dotted the landscape alongside pens of animals, little brick houses with thatched roofs, and grocer stalls boasting baskets filled with all sorts of fruits and vegetables—ripe peaches, dark purple plums, and some sort of orange fruit with spiky blue leaves were nestled among shiny cucumbers, red tomatoes, and thick bunches of carrots. He finally stopped between a fruit seller and a butcher shop and Vada clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well done,” she said. “That was getting dicey, no?”
“Yeah,” Leo said.
“Well, now we know you can pass yourself off as a Byrne.”
Leo didn’t find any comfort in that. “What if she tells the Misarros about us?”
“The Misarros would not wish to be messing about with a Byrne,” Vada reassured him. “Unless the world has gone truly mad. Come, we need to get you clothes. And something to eat; I’m starving.”
She bought them each a pear and Leo felt his anxiety ease slightly as he sank his teeth into its sweet flesh, letting the juice dribble down his chin. It had been fifteen days of salted pork, stale bread, and hard cheese. He was fairly certain this pear was the best thing he had ever tasted.
“We should bring one back for Sera,” he said through another mouthful.
Vada raised an eyebrow.
Leo’s face went hot. “I only meant . . . just because she doesn’t eat meat,” he stammered.
“Yes. I am sure that is what you were meaning,” she said with a sly smile.
They made their way past a silversmith, urns and platters and spoons reflecting the late afternoon sun, then ducked down an alley that led to a little square ringed with stalls in various shades of umber and maroon whose vendors only seemed to sell rugs. They skirted a woman on stilts dressed in flowing robes of brilliant green juggling four striped balls, then pushed through a band of musicians playing a cheery tune on fiddles and pipes and drums. Misarros seemed to be around every corner, but Vada always found some path to avoid them. Leo kept his head down until they had turned a corner and he was nearly blinded by a stunning array of jewelry.
“How big is this market?” he wondered.
“Very big,” Vada said. “There is a famous story that a wealthy woman from one of the northern islands came to see its splendors and was lost for twelve days. When they found her, she was skin and bones and nibbling on a dead rat.”
“Ugh,” Leo said, and Vada laughed as she ducked underneath a thin sheet of colored silk hung between two apothecaries, pungent herbal smells emanating from their open doors. Leo followed and found himself in a row of tents dyed in shades of lilac and lavender and violet. Pants were folded neatly on tables inside one, shirts hanging in another, and a third had the most stunning collection of dresses Leo had ever seen. There were tents selling seashell headdresses and ones displaying all types of shoes and still others with a wide selection of scarves.
“This,” Vada said, spreading out her arms wide, “is the best place to buy clothes in all the market. The question is where to start. . . .”
“Agnes will want pants,” he said. “Something comfortable and functional.”
Vada nodded. “We can dress her to have the look of the daughter of a merchant or a wealthy sea captain or a high-placed servant.” She glanced at him. “Perhaps servant is working best for our scheme.”
His sister wouldn’t like the servant part, but she’d be happy about the pants. “What about Sera?” he asked.
Vada’s brow furrowed. “If anyone sees her skin or her hair it will cause a fuss and we are not needing fusses right now. . . .”
They passed down the line of tents and stopped abruptly at a pair of Misarros with golden suns on their chests patrolling the outside of the fanciest tent in the whole row. Ofairn’s Fine Gowns, Leo translated as he read the sign above it, right before Vada pulled him back. But there were Misarros behind the tent as well. Vada cursed under her breath and, in a movement so