by Hazel Hunter
“You should know by now that money’s nice, but no one lives here because they want money. No, I want something else.”
Gillian bit her lip.
The woman walked around her with that strange clanking sound.
“Hmm, a witch. We get your kind down here from time to time. Pretty thing. Ripe, too.” The woman stopped in front of her. “I want your firstborn.”
Gillian nearly laughed. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted children. But whether she had them or not, she wasn’t going to barter a helpless child into the darkness of the Midnight Market.
“Not on your life,” she said.
The woman held up a hand.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you know how to bargain? Very well, let’s see.”
She looked Gillian over again.
“Very well, I want your memory of your first love.”
It was on the tip of Gillian’s tongue to say yes. After all, that teenage boy had only ever groped her, and then told his friends that she had done far more. Then she saw the crafty look on the woman’s face. She’d said first ‘love.’ Gillian almost nodded to herself. That boy had only been her first encounter. It was Shayne who was her first love.
There was a brief moment when the thought shocked her. Then she wondered if it would be easier to forget him––put his betrayal behind her.
“Could you do that?” Gillian asked quietly.
The woman’s gaze was sly.
“Of course I could. All of that pain, all of that grief, it would be gone. Wouldn’t that be better for you? Wouldn’t that be fine?”
She was already reaching for Gillian when Gillian lurched back. She could no more cut Shayne out of her life than she could cut out her heart. The thought of actually doing it made her a little queasy.
“Ask for something else.”
The woman sighed. “Your hair, then.”
“All of it?” Gillian blinked. Though she should have been expecting the request, she hadn’t.
“A lock is all I need. You have pretty hair.”
Gillian had never thought her hair was exceptional––brunette and falling down to mid-back. Then again, if you didn’t have any, it might be nice.
“All right,” she said hesitantly.
The woman grinned. “A deal then. I bring you to someone who has dragon’s eye seeds, and you give me a lock of your hair.”
Gillian was just about to ask where this person was, but the woman was quick. She was clumsy, but she moved with an unnatural speed. A hand shot out to grab Gillian’s hair. Out of the corner of her eye, Gillian could see something gleam in her other hand. She yelped with pain when her head was pulled to one side and her hair yanked tight. The woman didn’t have a pair of scissors for the task. Instead, she had a knife. She used it to shave a lock from the nape of Gillian’s neck.
When she stood back from Gillian, holding it up triumphantly, Gillian was blinking back tears of pain.
“There now,” the woman said with satisfaction. “That’s a pretty bauble for me, isn’t it.”
“You didn’t have to be so rough,” Gillian protested weakly.
She put her fingers to her neck. It stung. When she withdrew her hand, a single fingertip of her glove was daubed with blood.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the woman said. “I did. Now come along. I haven’t got all night.”
Now that the woman had gotten her price from Gillian, she was all business. She clanked off into the Midnight Market, assuming that Gillian would follow behind her. After a few twists and turns, Gillian was well and truly lost. She couldn’t stop thinking of her neck, though she was also grateful it hadn’t been worse.
This has to work, she thought. This has to get me what I need.
At last the woman stopped in front of a round, squat tower. It had no windows. But since all light in the Midnight Market was artificial anyway, there was no reason to have windows.
The woman straightened her skirts, frowning.
“You’re not meeting some shopkeeper now,” she admonished. “You’re meeting the Spider King. So make sure that you address him as ‘your majesty,’ all right? If he doesn’t like the look of you, he’ll drop you in the bay.”
“I thought that violence wasn’t allowed at the Midnight Market,” Gillian said.
The woman laughed.
“There are those that make the rules, those that follow them, and those that do whatever they damn well please. The Spider King’s one of the latter.”
Gillian gulped.
The woman knocked on the door, and a man dressed in archaic armor opened it. He squinted at the pair of them.
“What’ve you got here, Knacker?”
“She wants to see the Spider King,” the woman replied. “She’s paid her way through me.”
The man in the guard uniform looked Gillian up and down, making her skin crawl.
“So she’s paid you, but she ain’t paid me yet. Been a while since I’ve had some company here, you know? Maybe she needs to pay me too, eh?”
His leering look left no room for doubt as to what he wanted as payment.
Gillian had been feeling numb since her hair was cut. If she was honest, she hadn’t been feeling right since leaving Shayne behind. But now she could feel something else. The rage she’d nurtured at the inn suddenly came boiling up.
“No, I don’t need to pay you,” she growled, staring at the guard. “You’re going to let me through. If you don’t, I’m going to go through anyway, and I will make deadly certain that his majesty, the Spider King, knows all about you keeping people away from his door. I don’t know what he does to parasites who use his name, but I bet we’d find out pretty quickly.”
The guard had gone a little pale. She wondered grimly how many girls had acquiesced.
“Well, now, there’s no use for that, is there?” he said. He opened the door wider. “Go on through.”
“That was well done,” murmured the woman, following her. The man had called her Knacker.
“You weren’t much help,” Gillian said, still angry.
She thought that Knacker might make a comment about all help having a price, but the woman only shrugged.
“No one ever helped me.”
Down a short hallway, they stopped at a black door with a white spider painted on it.
“Here we are,” Knacker said. “Go on, knock.”
When Gillian did, a mild voice bid them enter.
When Knacker had mentioned the Spider King, Gillian had imagined some sort of royal court decked with silk and gold. What she got instead was a small library overflowing with books. They were stacked high on all sides, falling out of their shelves and settled in teetering towers all over the floor. There were so many books that she didn’t see the Spider King.
“What have you brought me today, Knacker?”
The voice drew her eyes to a man seated at a desk. He looked to be of average height and build with dark brown hair cut into a severe crop. The only notable thing about him was his white ceramic mask. It gleamed in the dim green light. With only a slit for the mouth and two holes for the eyes, it lacked any expression at all.
“She’s looking for something,” Knacker said, her voice high and fawning, “and I knew you could find it for her.”
“You think very much of me,” the Spider King said modestly.
He seemed so mild, and yet there was something about him that was unnerving. Though they’d hardly begun, Gillian wanted to be done.
“Thank you for your time, your majesty,” she said. “I was told that you could help me find dragon’s eye seed.”
For a moment, she was convinced that even this man wasn’t going to help her. She would be sent away and return to the Baltus Institute in defeat.
Instead, the Spider King tapped the desk with his fingers, lost in thought.
“Dragon’s eye seeds. It’s been a while since someone has asked me for that.”
“You don’t have it,” Gillian said with disappointmen
t.
“Shut up,” he said.
The casual violence in his words somehow shocked Gillian. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind the mask. But after several moments, it seemed as if the Spider King had come to a decision.
“Dragon’s eye seeds like this, you mean.”
He made a single wave with his hand, and suddenly there was a small pile of tiny black spheres on the desk in front of him. Gillian couldn’t tell if it was sleight of hand or some kind of arcane power that allowed him to materialize them.
“Come here, hold your hand over them,” he said, beckoning.
The last thing she wanted to do was be closer to him, but there seemed to be no other way. Biting her lip, she approached. When she was close to the desk, she hovered her hand about a foot above the seeds. Dragon’s eye seed gained its name from the fact that it generated its own heat. Until they sprouted, they kept themselves at a constant high temperature. Even through the glove, Gillian could feel the warmth.
She started to draw away, but the Spider King grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. There was a terrible strength in his grip. Though she tried to glare at him, she found she couldn’t. Inside the eyeholes of his mask, there were no eyes, only impenetrable darkness. She tried to pull away, not succeeding.
“Are you sure they’re dragon’s eye seeds?” he asked mildly. “You really do need to be certain.”
With an irresistible force, he drew her hand downward.
She could feel the fiery heat of the seeds now. Though she had read stories about them, she’d never read that they could burn. Unfortunately, the palm of her hand said otherwise. The heat was becoming scorching, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out.
As quickly as he had seized her hand, the Spider King let her go. She stumbled back, grasping her hand.
“Are you convinced that they are the real thing?” he asked.
She checked the palm of her glove. Though she couldn’t quite be sure in the available light, it might have been singed.
“Yes, your majesty,” she said, careful to add the title.
Though her voice was even, anger and hurt welled up at the man’s needless cruelty.
“Are you prepared to pay for them?”
She nodded. “I work for Marceline of the Baltus Institute, and she is prepared to pay whatever cost.”
“Then she should have come here herself,” the man said. “I am not dealing with her. I am dealing with you.”
Gillian drew herself up proudly. “All right. You’re dealing with me. What do you want for them?”
“What have you got? What could a lackey from this Baltus Institute possibly have to offer me?”
“I have money,” she said. “Plenty of it. Dollars, pounds, whatever currency and in whatever format. Gold can be arranged. So can silver and platinum.”
The Spider King made a gesture with his hand. A cascade of gold coins rolled from his fingers and clattered on the floor.
“Tell me how much that means to me,” he sneered. “Try again.”
Gillian had been expecting this.
“I’m going to Tenebris,” she said. “Or at least I will once I have those seeds. Give those to me, and I’ll let you know where it is.”
“I might as well buy a share of Atlantis,” the Spider King said. “Knacker brought you to me because she sensed something about you. She thought you would be able to pay for my services. If she was wrong, she’ll be punished, and I’ll make sure you never see these seeds again.”
Gillian’s mind went blank. She knew that the Midnight Market traded in dark goods. People had traded away their lovers for some other desire. They had traded away body parts for what they wanted the most. She couldn’t give away her heart, she knew that. Instead, she offered up her greatest fear.
“I’m a psychometrist,” she said softly. “Surely that would be useful to you.”
“In plain English, woman.”
“When I touch things with my hands, I can read where they’ve been and what they’ve done. I can tell you if a relic is real.”
Behind his mask, the Spider King grew still. She had his full attention, and it was chilling.
“Now that would indeed be quite valuable. But I know that’s not all there is to it.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ve known a few like you through the years. Kept one as my personal, little pet. It’s not just things, is it?
Gillian gritted her teeth.
“It’s just things,” she insisted. “I can tell you everything you need to know about them, and that’s where it stops.”
“You’re a pretty liar,” the Spider King said pleasantly. “That’s not where it stops. It’s people too, isn’t it?”
Gillian’s silence was all he needed. He laughed, a raucous sound that put her teeth on edge.
“What do you want from me?”
The Spider King seemed about to answer, but there was a loud crash.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GILLIAN WAS SO close to getting the dragon’s eye seed she could almost feel them. Whatever was going on outside the Spider King’s room would have to wait its turn. But the guardsman was raising an awful cry. Then he was silent. Even Gillian had to look. Knacker went to the door, but it opened abruptly, sending her sprawling back with a clank.
In the doorway stood Shayne, his hands lit with fire. His fierce gaze landed on Gillian first, then Knacker and the Spider King. He stepped into the room. Though Gillian silently cursed, a deep pang of relief flooded through her too. Gods it was good to see him.
“And who the hell are you?” asked the Spider King.
For a man who had just had his home invaded, he was exceptionally calm.
“I’m supposed to be an escort,” Shayne growled. “And whatever the hell you’re doing with Gillian, it’s going to stop.”
“Shayne,” Gillian said. “He has dragon’s eye seeds. I need to deal with him.”
Though Shayne shot her a look, she nodded at the desk. He glanced at the seeds and the Spider King’s mask. Knacker managed to get up after several clanks and clunks. Though he looked as though he might burn the house down, Shayne finally relented. The fire winked out.
The Spider King shook his head with mock sympathy.
“Good help is shockingly hard to find sometimes, isn’t it? But we were interrupted. I want two things from you, and then the seeds are yours.”
“Two for one hardly seems fair,” Gillian said.
“When I hold the only stock of something you need? Supply and demand.”
Gillian clenched her jaw. “Tell me what you want.”
“First I want a demonstration. Anyone can say they’re a psychometrist. Lying is punished around here, but you’d be surprised how many people try it. After that, I want you to read a certain statue belonging to an associate of mine. Then you can come back and tell me all about it.”
Gillian hesitated. There had to be a catch. Though she hadn’t been in the Midnight Market long, she was starting to get the sense of it. She nearly yelped when Shayne touched her shoulder.
“You don’t have to agree to anything,” he said, never taking his eyes off the Spider King. “He can deal with cash, or he can deal with me.”
“Try it,” said the Spider King pleasantly. “Oh do try it. See how far you get with trying to coerce me. I start screaming, people will pile in here, and then we’ll see a show. The peace of the Midnight Market is deadly, my friend. Maybe whatever’s left of you will be able to get on a boat. Maybe you’ll have feet to stand on and eyes to see. Maybe.”
By now, Gillian could read Shayne’s deadly intent. Without thinking, she looped her arm through his. Though he could have easily shaken her off, he seemed caught off guard. She didn’t waste the moment.
“All right,” she said. “One trial, and one statue. How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
The Spider King shrugged.
“I’m sitting in the Midnight Market, aren’t I? If I did
n’t keep my word, I’d be dead. Have we got a deal?”
Gillian couldn’t help but feel as if she were sealing her own fate, but she finally nodded.
“Yes, we do.”
“Fine, fine.”
The Spider King rummaged under his desk and came up with a wrench. To Gillian’s inexperienced eye, it looked no different from a tool that someone would use to fix a car. The Spider King held it out to her.
“Gillian, are you sure?” Shayne’s voice was quiet but urgent.
“I am,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”
She peeled her gloves away, stretching her fingers fully. The gloves were thin and tailor-fit to her hands, but when she wore them so often, they felt claustrophobic. She took a deep breath and reached for the wrench.
The first touch of metal on her hands brought a dozen fleeting images. She saw a factory, a package, a few hands. She saw a construction site, and a blue tool kit. She was beginning to wonder if the Spider King didn’t really understand her gift, when the room spun.
The memory roared up with the power of a freight train, and when it struck her, it felt like she had been leveled. There was a red room with a roiling heat that made her want to throw up. There was a woman lying on a narrow bed, panting hard. She only wore her underwear. It was easy to see that one leg ended between her thigh and her knee, and the other was missing a foot.
“I hope you’re ready,” said a cold voice. “Remember you asked for this.”
The woman nodded, unable or unwilling to speak. A pair of frighteningly medieval, steel prostheses were held close to the stumps where her legs ended. They were miracles in some ways. They were incredibly detailed and the wires mimicked the tendons that would allow them to move the way real limbs would. The heat went up, and somehow, Gillian realized that the limbs were being welded to the woman’s body. The woman screamed herself hoarse, and then the wrench came out, tightening the limbs down harder and harder.
Gillian lurched forward. She might have hit the desk, but Shayne caught her with a curse. She could sense more than see him, but she reached for him instinctively. He took the wrench.
“It’s fine,” she gasped. “I have this. I have it. It’s fine.”
