The public market was situated on the bank of the river opposite from the living and business districts of Nash City, yet still inside the old, original city wall. The market stadium was a huge, oval building with rooms and hallways that circled the outside, but the main part of the building was open to the sky. The walls were a series of concrete steps. According to my City History professor at the Academy, the building had been built as a place to where sporting competitions had taken place. During the Cataclysm, despite its open roof, it had been used as shelter for hundreds of refugees. Mages had used shield spells to keep rain and weather out of the building, much like the larger shield spells that had been used to cover everything within the city walls and protect the buildings and inhabitants from the harsh storms of the Cataclysm. Today, a smaller, weaker shield powered by crystals and charged regularly by mages employed by the city kept rain out so that the market could be open rain or shine.
On any random day, there were dozens of vendors and merchants from Nash or nearby villages selling their wares at the market. The regular merchants had permanent spots separated into small shop areas by sheets of cloth hung over ropes strung on poles. Their merchandise was spread out on wooden tables or strung up along the cloth walls on ropes. A steady stream of customers from Old Nash City and New Nashville browsed, picking out fresh vegetables, soap, and other daily necessities.
The first week of every month, market week, was quite another story. Hundreds of merchants from all over the Appalachian Peninsula, as well traders from across the Mississippi Sea that came in on trading barges crowd the market to sell their wares and buy goods to take back to their communities. Farmers and crafters from Mountain communities pulled their full wagons right up into the market and sold their merchandise right out of the back. Others carted their wares up onto the steep steps of the walls to set up their tables. Tables, carts, and bins laden with dried fruit, hemp cloth, beeswax candles, carved, wooden children’s toys, and other staples and goodies vied for space. Shoppers from all over Nash crowded the narrow walkways, browsing the stalls for goods that weren’t available in the local areas.
The lots around the outside of the market were just as crowded and busy during Market Week. Near the market building there two rows of lean-tos and shacks that housed blacksmiths, metal smiths, tanners, and other tradesmen that found it convenient to have their businesses close to the market. Merchants and shoppers who couldn’t afford a room at an inn for the duration of their stay pulled their own wagons up and pitched tents and built cook fires. Around the far edges of the market lot, Gypsy clans circled their wagon homes.
It was mid-week so the Market Week crowd was in full swing. We arrived shortly after noon. The odor of grilled meats and vegetables and fried sweet cakes from the food vendor stalls and vegetable stew and corn cakes from campfires permeated the air. I had only had time for one more cup of tea before Ian and I had left, and my stomach was quite empty. My mouth watered at the smells.
“Everything smells so good,” I said as I led the way through the throng to River’s stall. “I’m starving.”
Ian smiled apologetically. “Yes, I know. I am too. I’m sorry I didn’t let Mrs. Gary fix us something to eat. It just would have taken too long, and she tends to make a feast when she cooks. It could have been another hour or two before we got out of there.”
“A feast sounds good right about now, but I completely understand. We have too much to do to sit around getting fussed over by your housekeeper. But I reserve the right for a future date,” I said, and barely controlled the urge to slap my hand over my mouth. Had I really just implied there would be future opportunities for me to be at Ian’s apartment? Yes, I had. And I had done so very casually, as if it were no big deal.
One night of sex and I was already talking as if Ian and I were in some sort of long-term relationship. Despite his words last night about wanting more than a quick fling, I had no idea what he really wanted, and we hadn’t had time for a conversation this morning. When I had emerged from the bathroom after my bath, dressed in the khaki pants, light green shirt, and brown canvas vest Mrs. Gary had brought up, Ian and the housekeeper were both in the apartment. Ian was at his desk, making notes, and Mrs. Gary was bustling around, cleaning and trying to get Ian to let her bring a tray of food up. Ian explained that we had to leave rather quickly, and reluctantly, she had relented and went to clean the bathroom. Her presence in the apartment, as I sat on the sofa and put on my boots, kept the conversation between us to platitudes on the weather.
On the drive to the market in Ian’s rickshaw, the conversation had been about the case and what we hoped to find out from the Gypsy. All mentions of the night before were about the events in the alley and the pub. Neither of us brought up the reason we were riding together from his apartment with me garbed in his clothes. Nor did we discuss the several sweaty hours we’d spent together in his bed or what they would mean for us. That was fine with me; I didn’t really want to have that talk yet. While I was completely in the dark about what Ian wanted, I had even less idea what I wanted.
Maybe the din of the crowd around us had drowned me out and Ian hadn’t heard what I’d said. No such luck. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand, stopping me in my path, pulling so that I turned towards him. He tugged one more time so that I was right up against him. One arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close, and the other slid up to the nape of my neck. I shuddered, the memory of his mouth and hands on me slamming into me. He lowered his mouth to my ear and said, “You can count on it.” Then brushed a quick, hot kiss against my parted lips and released me.
I stood there, breathless and stunned for a moment. He’d just kissed me in the middle of the public market. Belatedly, I thought I should punch him in the throat for such an offense, but my bones were all melty and it just seemed like too much effort. I opened my mouth to protest. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, something about not liking public displays of affection, but before I could catch my breath and find my voice, he grabbed my hand again and was pulling me through the crowd.
“Here, I can’t give you a feast right now, but I can feed you,” he said, stopping in front of a food stall. I instantly forgave the kiss and decided he could do it again in front of the whole city-state if he wanted to if I got to have something to eat.
We ordered grilled cornbread fritters filled with little bits of lamb, roasted vegetables, and goat cheese. The vendor wrapped them in newspaper and drizzled the tops with honey before handing them to us. I took mine and dug in immediately as we continued on our way to find River. It was warm and tasty.
I must have been making noises reminiscent of last night because Ian said, “Damn it, Fiona. I’m doing my best to be professional today, but if you keep making those noises like that, I will be forced to drag you off somewhere private and really make you moan—this case, the Blades, and missing mages be damned.”
For a moment, I was stunned enough to stop eating. Then I looked over at him and the expression on his face was so comically pained, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, think that is funny do you?” A wicked grin spread across his face.
“A little,” I said, licking honey off my finger. His eyes went wide and for a moment, I thought about teasing him a bit more, seeing how far I could push him. But, from the heated look in his eyes, I had no doubt he would follow through on his threat, consequences be damned. As much as I wanted to be somewhere spending the rest of the day having hot, animal sex with Ian, the people damned by the consequences wouldn’t be us. They would be the innocent women that were still missing. “But, you are right. Work comes first, so I’ll try to contain my glee while I eat. It will be hard; this is damned good. But I’ll do it to save your sanity. I do, however, reserve the right to take you up on that moaning offer in the future.” This time, I knew exactly what I was saying.
His eyes went so dark with desire that for a moment, I thought he was going to make good on his threat and drag me off somewhere. Ins
tead, he just reached for my hand, put it to his mouth, and slowly licked a bit of honey I’d missed off my pinky finger. “Oh, you can definitely count on that.”
He dropped my hand, and I shoved another bite of fritter into my mouth to keep from moaning. “Come on,” I said, around the fritter, not caring at that point that it was unmannerly and completely unsexy. That actually worked for me at the moment. “River’s stall is right over there.” I pointed and started walking. Ian took another bite of his own fritter, laughing quietly, and followed.