Bargains
The Celestial Bazaar wasn’t a district of Satyrine so much as a symbiote, a pocket dimension that had sunk its teeth into the much larger city, sucking in clientele through its toll gates and expelling them back into the city burdened with curios, ephemera, and any other good the mind could conceive of—and some that it couldn’t.‡
The dense maze of vendors swiftly drew Rhea into the heart of the market. Its complex bouquet of aromas displaced the memory of the scent of dandelions she had given up as the price of entry. Bickering, haggling, wheedling, and boasting filled the air and assaulted her ears. The colors dazzled the eye, but the wares dazzled the mind. Feathered suits stood on display next to flocks of actual birds conveniently holding a suit shape. Bonsai trees in neat rows grew fast enough to watch as their keepers trimmed them into aesthetically pleasing curves and twists. An old fellow hawked tokens of the false, his cart heaping with dismal mementos of Shadow. A ramshackle booth stood where a Goetic with a plastic smile had summoned a bemused demon to answer esoteric and insignificant personal questions.
Through it all, she scoured the crowd for a watermelon ascot. She absentmindedly reached up to touch the peacock feather worked into her hair, hoping it was both tasteful enough not to draw stares and distinctive enough to recognize. Every sense buffeted from every side, Rhea stopped to orient herself and asked directions to the clockmaker.
Rhea found the cravat and with it her buyer, a tall man in a bowler hat and waistcoat, engaged in conversation with a grandfather clock. As he spoke, he stroked his handlebar mustache compulsively with one hand while the other traced detailed schematics in the air. She held back until a lull came in which to insert herself.
“That’s a lovely tie, Somberg,” Rhea said as she approached.
He turned, still talking to the clock, and then his eyes fell on the peacock feather. “Oh. Oh, yes, well met indeed.” He turned back to the clock. “I am so sorry, but I will have to end our discussion here today.”
“No problem, I’ve got all nine hours, thirty-two minutes, and fifteen seconds left in the day,” the clock answered. “A pleasure as always!”
Somberg stepped away, gesturing for Rhea to follow beside. They quickly fell into step down the line of exotic shops.
“I previously worked with another supplier, and the Marquis Quarter is not an ideal place to do business these days, and my neighborhood in Strangeglass, of course, is under embargo. The Triumvirate is not at all understanding of people who desire to circumvent the Consortium. I’ve heard great things indeed about what you’ve been able to source, truly rich emotions, and I have something special in exchange. Do you have it with you, by any chance?”
“I do.”
He pulled out a deep-blood-red pearlescent sphere and held it between thumb and forefinger with an air of magnanimity.
Rhea, unsure of what he held, asked, “Where did you find this?”
He gave a mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t believe the superstitions about these; I was given the most amazing discount.” He looked around. “A demontear. Most think they’re cursed magecoins, but if there is a curse, it’s of the owner’s own making. I’ve never had any issue with them.”
She reached out and held it a moment. I can always pass it on if it’s problematic, she thought, and reached into her own bag for the emotion leaf of distress.
His eyes lit up, and he took it, thanking her profusely and voicing desire for many more such exchanges in the future. A moment later, he was off.
Rhea put away the novel currency, and curiosity pulled her back to the suit shop. She perused the prohibitively priced clothing a while and then exited to be carried along with the crowds as she awaited her principal appointment.
Before her a courtyard opened up a view of a life-sized chess set. The board marked on the ground was nearly empty, and most of the pieces had been set aside. She watched carefully as Aberinkula took in its loss, shook hands with its opponent, and lit a pipe.
“You’re early,” it commented as she approached. It gestured around. “A marvel of a place, isn’t it? Every time I come I am delighted anew.”
“It is. I’ve never been here before,” she confessed.
“You haven’t?” Its eyebrows rose as it gave a grand smile. “Well then, we must take a tour.”
It ushered her away from the board to see caricature artists, a woman crying liquid gold to be harvested and sold, book and fabric shops, baskets of loose ideas for sale. Aberinkula introduced her to Namos, the pensmith, whose pens only wrote lies, and showed her the maker of bicycles that traveled on water. Around every corner there was some new wonder or entertainer. The bazaar rivaled Fartown in novelty and strangeness.
Aberinkula finally brought her to a halt at a coffee stand. “I’m pleased you got my note. Our paths crossing is most serendipitous. For I believe you can teach me something I’ve long desired to learn, and I believe I have a meaningful way to repay you.”
Rhea nodded. “What do you want to learn?”
Aberinkula sighed wistfully. “You have some understanding of the paths I’ve seen. I’ve walked many, some of which most people don’t even know exist. But one eludes me. I believe its understanding lies in the game of the weavers, the Spider’s Game.” Its face fell somewhat. “But I can’t learn it on my own, and as an apostate, I have no cell to teach me.” It leaned forward. “Were you to instruct me in this game, I would provide you with further understanding of the paths of suns. I sense you have already begun to walk the Zain pathway I showed you.”
Rhea hesitated. Most cells sanctioned sharing the Spider’s Game with nonweavers, but Indra had not weighed in on the matter to her knowledge. She tried to hedge. “You understand, I’ve only just started in this cell. I’m not saying no, but I’m afraid I might need some time to give a good answer. And I’m an amateur myself; I might not know it well enough to teach.”
Aberinkula nodded in understanding. “Of course. I fully appreciate that it might require some discretion, though there is nothing cloak-and-dagger about it. For now, however, if you would indulge me”—it pulled out a folded piece of cardboard from a coat pocket—“I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up the board. Perhaps you’d be willing to let me know if anything is off or mistaken about its layout?”
Rhea slowly nodded and examined the board carefully. Though handcrafted, the copy looked well made. She followed its lines and colors, mentioning where and how things were off as she went, but his facsimile held few mistakes.
“I appreciate this,” it said. “Do let me know your answer soon. I will depart again in the next weeks, and it will be some time before I return; the Noösphere may not reach me.”
Rhea leaned back. “Have you walked all those paths in the cathedral?” she asked suddenly.
Aberinkula nodded. “All of them. But I cannot begin to construct the missing path. It is not merely a process of elimination.”
“How might the Spider’s Game help you?”
It leaned back. “The paths are not arbitrary. They all obey an underlying logic. And I’ve heard that traveling the suns resembles the Spider’s Game, creating complex journeys from simple rules for movement. If my hypothesis is correct, the legal paths in the Spider’s Game reflect all paths through the Actuality. To truly understand the game would be to discern the logic and discover the missing path.”
There was not a line in Aberinkula’s body that suggested anything but sincerity. But Rhea’s eyes drifted behind it to see Violet’s cape and knifelike teeth watching her. Watching the board on the table.
Rhea furrowed her brow and started commenting on how some of the lines and spaces on the board were wrong, contradicting her previous words, willing him to pick up on the disconnect from their previous conversation. Aberinkula’s gaze remained focused on her, but it flicked his eyes to the side. She gave a barely discernible nod. It slowly reached out to fold up the board.
“I find,” Aberinkula said as it began to get up, “that I need to stretch my legs. Might we walk a bit longer?”
“Of course.” Rhea also got up. A glance told her that Violet had disappeared. “Do you know that fellow?” she asked.
“I never saw him. I’m sorry.”
“His name is Violet.” Rhea gave a brief description of him. “He deals in information.”
“Sounds like someone I should do business with. But perhaps not someone you would want in your business.”
Rhea fell silent, her mind preoccupied, and then began to describe her experience in the hallways of the hate cyst. As she spoke of pushing through the mirrors, Aberinkula grew noticeably agitated.
“And it wouldn’t let me back through from the throne room,” Rhea finished.
Aberinkula walked on a few paces before answering. “That mirror must have been accessing Gold from Indigo. That’s a one-way trip by Zain, and neither Zain nor any other path will let you return directly to Indigo. You bypassed it while exiting using both the Zain and Nightside paths.” Its pupils disappeared as it paused in concentration. “This is the secret to traveling the suns. The more currents you know, the more paths are open to you. You now know three. I know nine more that I can teach you.” It grinned. “You know how to reach me; remember to do so before I leave. Farewell.” With that, Aberinkula disappeared into the crowded streets of the bazaar.¶
‡ Empty Gallows
¶ Rhea gains joy, acumen, demontear