Chapter 2: The Night Market - The Night Market

The Night Market was real.

It hadn’t been imagined, nor was it the fantasy of internet lunatics. All Pepper had needed was its location and the means to perceive it, both provided by her anonymous benefactor. But revealing the Night Market was one thing. Getting inside was another matter.

The sentries were on the lookout for troublemakers. People like her, most likely. Some mingled with the patrons, eyes constantly sweeping, while others stood guard at key points, suspicion etched on their faces. Getting in through the front was out of the question.

There had to be another way.

She paced the edge of the fence, boots crunching on loose grit, drenched in shadow. The dilapidated panelling worked in her favour, sporting points where the wood had simply dissolved.

There. Low to the ground, torn open like something had forced its way through from the other side. She crouched and looked about. No one was watching. Headlights from a van flashed past from the road behind her. Someone yelled something she couldn’t make out. Normal city noise. It was just an ordinary night. For everybody else, maybe.

The hole wasn’t large, but enough for someone determined. Pepper exhaled and dropped to her hands and knees, pushing through. Her coat snagged on a nail, tugging like the city itself had second thoughts about letting her go and had to be convinced.

She emerged from the other side of the fence behind a sagging tent, hands scuffed, coat dirtied. Shadows pressed in close, the smells of smoke and wet brick prominent. The street sounds had faded as if someone had turned the volume down, replaced with the chatter of those passing and the jangle of wind chimes.

The Night Market lay before her like a dream taking shape. Awnings fluttered over narrow walkways. Lamps glowed in colours that didn’t exist during the day. Stalls stood crooked and leaning, as if drunk from attention.

For a few minutes she just watched, hidden in the dark between guy ropes and shadow, spying on its patrons, fighting the rising unease. Because to the common eye, they seemed . . . normal. But if Pepper didn’t know what she did, she wouldn’t have noticed the finer details that sent the hair on her neck to rise. The attire was largely casual but chic; however, a good number made statements in striking silver suits, tailored dress coats or elegant flowing gowns. Their gold and platinum jewellery shimmered, catching the light from the candles and lamps. But it was the little details that put Pepper on edge. Despite appearances, the eyes were a touch too sharp, smiles too wide. Just like she had been warned.

She knew exactly what they were. And was under no doubt that the Night Market belonged to them. And God help her should she be caught.

She brushed debris from her coat and tugged the collar higher – this time not for the cold, but for courage. Pepper stepped out slowly, careful not to draw attention, and merged with the quiet, casual pace of those around her. Keep your head down, she told herself. Look like you belong.

Signage, some bright and colourful, others peeling and dulled, announced trade names such as MALECYST & FAMILY, HAWKINSONS TRADE CO and PAN’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES. Some bragged about being the finest purveyors of something, but what of, Pepper had difficulty in determining. She let her eyes skim the tables in passing. Plenty on offer just looked like junk. Jars of undeclared fluid were bound with chains. Braids of what looked like hair wrapped into circlets. Various bones laid out in order of length like surgical tools. Bronze statues of animals, and things that resembled animals but were unnatural enough to defy classification. Many stalls were promoting smoky-glassed bottles, from stacked crates of the things to gaudy, gold-sealed affairs much smaller in size with somewhat concerning names like PIRATE’S REGRETS, LOOSE LIPS and GENERATIONAL WELSH.

But the further she went on, the more she realised that every stall lacked any sort of price list. No matter. Whatever the potential cost of the objects she saw, she needed something infinitely more valuable: information.

She navigated her way to one of the stalls that seemed the most comfortable to approach, whose wares were less morbid. Just bundles of neatly wrapped cloth. Hanging crests and emblems upon wooden mounts. A few racks of those small coppery bottles tied at the neck with dangling lengths of ribbon. The stallholder, a woman old enough that her wrinkles seemed carved rather than formed, caught sight of Pepper and offered a smile with an incomplete set of teeth. She wrung her creased hands together, rubbing at the knuckles.

‘Hello,’ Pepper said. The smile she returned was genuine. The confidence wasn’t.

‘Good evening!’ the stallholder chirped. ‘Whatever takes your fancy, I’m sure you’ll find it here. Got good silks if you need that special oomph in your work. If you’re unsure as to what to go for, I recommend the Monk’s Wine. Sublime flavour. He was drunk when it was taken.’

The words pressed a dagger of ice against Pepper’s spine to unleash a shudder, but she endured, looking casually over what was on offer.

‘Sounds wonderful. Maybe some other time,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m after something . . . special. Don’t know if you have it?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I heard it can be found here, the, uh . . . the Eternal Rose, they call it.’

Pepper tried her best to act nonchalant, perusing the stock as if she was undecided. Her eyes flashed back to the stallholder after scanning a row of bottles with brown frosted glass. In fact, they were all terracotta in colour, apart from the neck. For just beneath the wax-coated stoppers, Pepper could determine there were flashes of clear glass, lending to the thought that it was the contents that gave the bottle its colour. The deep rust-red tinge . . .

‘The Rose?’ The stallholder froze, then exploded into a cackle sharp enough to turn a few heads. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with thin fingers, then leaned upon the wood. ‘Oh my, don’t be absurd. If I had it, do you think I would be running a ratty stall in this dump? I mean—’ She cut herself off before her mouth extended into a knowing smile. ‘Ohhhh. Ohhhhhhh!’

Pepper glanced around. The dagger sank in, chilling the blood.

‘Ohh, I seeeeeeee’ – the old woman wagged a bony finger – ‘you shouldn’t be here. And you know you shouldn’t, hmm?’

Pepper straightened in alarm. ‘What do you—’

‘You’re not fooling me. You’re out of place, and you, you know this. You have to tell me, dear, I’m begging to know’ – she leaned even closer, hushing her voice – ‘how did you even get in?’

‘I don’t know what you—’

‘I’m over four hundred years old, y’know? I’ve had a lot of people try to pull the wool over my eyes, and you’re no good of a liar, dear. You don’t share that. You’ve got kind eyes. Fading, sure, but still kind. So, I can see right through you.’

The dagger twisted. It was not gentle. Pepper’s breath faltered. Eyes became wet.

‘Ah-ah. Don’t run,’ the woman warned. Her voice dropped. ‘Stay where you are. You bolt now, and it won’t be me you need to worry about. It’ll be them. Slowly . . . look left. Toward the gate.’

Pepper did.

A crimson-suited sentry moved slowly through the crowd, eyes unblinking. Another loitered at the gate, arms folded, head scanning the crowd like a lighthouse. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to.

Her heart pounded so hard it blurred her hearing.

‘That’s trouble,’ the stallholder said quietly. ‘And those, the Enforcers, they’re here for people like you. The uninvited. The unlucky. You know what they are, right?’

‘. . . Yeah.’

‘What we all are?’

‘. . . Yeah.’

The woman’s voice softened, but her smile didn’t. ‘What I am?’

Pepper turned back to face her, swallowing hard. She nodded.

‘And if you were one of us, you wouldn’t be asking about the Eternal Rose. Everybody knows where that’s going to be on a night like this. And that alone is a big giveaway. See that large tent over there?’ She looked down the path to where lights congregated around huge, erected strips of red and black. Bodies were swarming around the outside. ‘You’ll find the Rose there. Being auctioned to better people than myself. Soon, actually, if you want to catch it. And this time, be careful who you speak to.’

Pepper’s throat tightened. ‘Why are you—’

‘Helping?’ The woman shrugged. ‘You seem decent. I’ve seen decent before. Doesn’t usually last long around here. A young thing like you don’t want to be mixed up in all this. Not that it’s my business.’ The woman’s tone dropped into something quieter, almost kind. ‘Take my advice. Go back to where you came from. Forget all this and hold on to that life of yours. Because whatever you’re thinking of needing the Rose for . . . it can’t possibly be worth the hassle.’

‘I can’t,’ Pepper replied. ‘I need it.’

‘I’m sure you do. I had a feeling you would say something like that.’ The woman sighed. ‘But needing something doesn’t mean you get to have it. Especially something as valuable as that. Make no mistake, the one who walks away with the Rose tonight? They won’t be the kind that begs. Or sneaks. They’ll be the kind that takes, and stares right in your face while knowing full well you can’t stop them. So, whatever your intentions, you need to think long and hard as to if you want to upset people like that.’

Pepper shivered. The wind wasn’t any colder, but it suddenly felt like she was standing naked in it.