The rest of their trip became a quick-paced tour of the market's necessities. They went to a small, crowded stall where a woman with chapped hands sold rock salt out of an open barrel. A small canvas bag cost them ten coppers.

  Next, they found an herb vendor, an old man with a wizened face and a table dispying bundles of dried pnts tied with twine. Leo picked out a fragrant bunch of sage and another of what he hoped was thyme. A few loose, pungent buds he identified as wild garlic joined their bag, the entire purchase costing another four coppers.

  A small, cy pot of amber honey, sticky and smelling of clover, was a luxury at eight coppers, but one Sera would love.

  "You want any pepper?" Marsh asked, nudging him toward a smaller container filled with tiny bck beads.

  Leo picked up the price tag - eight coppers for a spoonful.

  He'd grown up knowing bck pepper was expensive, but this was highway robbery. He just shook his head. As much as he'd kill for a steak with a proper pepper crust, it wasn't worth that price.

  As they stepped around a puddle, the heavenly smell of baking sugar and warm pastry hit Leo.

  His stomach had been empty ever since Maren's ambush in the morning. He'd been so focused on supplies he'd forgotten the gnawing hunger.

  "Gods," Marsh said, his own stomach gurgling in response. He followed Leo's gaze to a small bakery stall where a plump, flour-dusted woman was pulling steaming buns from a portable cy oven. Each one was gzed and glittering with a sweet honey wash.

  "Hold these," Leo shoved two heavy sacks of grain into Marsh's arms, earning a grunt of protest, and strode over to the stall.

  "Two of those sweetrolls."

  The baker slid two buns onto a piece of parchment paper, the warmth radiating through.

  "Six copper."

  Leo paid, and when he turned, Marsh was staring at the buns like a starving man.

  "Here," Leo tore off one of the pastries and handed it to him.

  Marsh didn't need to be told twice. He took a huge bite, his eyes rolling back in his head as the sweet, doughy fvor hit him.

  "Oh...this is good!"

  "It is," Leo said, taking a more delicate bite of his own. The outside was crisp, the inside soft and fluffy. It was the best thing he'd tasted in this new life.

  He ate the rest of the roll in three more bites, the sweet taste doing wonders to lift his spirits. He then remembered Sera and turned back to the stall.

  While Marsh finished his early lunch, Leo bought a small, brown paper bag of dried apple slices. They were pale and shriveled, but their sweet, tart scent promised a welcome treat for Sera. He tucked them into a pocket.

  With their arms den with purchases, they moved deeper into the square, toward a storefront that had no sign at all, just a door painted a deep, peeling blue. This was Gwen's Curiosities. Marsh led the way, shifting the heavy packages in his arms.

  The door swung open with a soft jingle of tiny, metallic chimes. The air inside was stale, and rich with the scent of old paper and oiled wood.

  The single room was a nightmare of organized chaos. Every surface was covered. Shelves bowed under the weight of stacks of leather-bound books with cracked spines. Gss cases dispyed tarnished silver lockets, strings of amber beads, and rings set with cloudy, uncut stones.

  In one corner stood a suit of rust-spotted chainmail on a wooden dummy, missing an arm. In another, a collection of intricately carved wooden figurines, each one depicting a different contorted face. On the walls, above it all, hung strange charts, faded maps of nds Leo didn't recognize, and the bleached skull of some horned beast.

  "Welcome," a thin, reedy voice called out.

  From behind a tall stack of what looked like ancient tax records, a man emerged. Gwen was ancient, a living fossil of the town. He was bent over a carved walking stick, his frame swallowed by a dusty brown robe. His face was a nest of wrinkles, but his eyes, magnified by a pair of thick-lensed spectacles perched on his nose, were bright and unnervingly alert.

  "What can I interest you two gentlemen in today? Looking to add to your collection of useless trinkets, or have you finally decided to purchase a map that doesn't lead to a mud pit?" Gwen's voice was dry. He tapped his walking stick on the floorboards, the sound echoing in the quiet, dusty room.

  "Gift for the wife," Marsh said, shifting the weight of the meat and grain in his arms. "A peace offering."

  "Ah, yes. The male mating ritual of penance. And what grievous sin have you committed this time, my boy?" Gwen raised a magnified eyebrow.

  "I was careless and got a souvenir on my neck without telling her," Gwen flinched. The expression was subtle, a slight tightening of the wrinkles around his eyes.

  "Gods above and below," the old shopkeeper breathed, leaning heavily on his stick. "An apology gift won't save your hide, boy. You're sleeping in the coop for days to come, mark my words."

  Despite the harsh words, there was a flicker of something akin to sympathy in the old man's eyes. He sighed, a long, weary sound.

  "Nevertheless, a gift it is. Let me show you the 'I'm sorry I didn't die' collection," Gwen said, leading the way to a dusty gss case at the back of the shop.

  As Marsh followed the shopkeeper, murmuring quietly with him, Leo was left to his own devices. His eyes roamed the cluttered shelves, the chaotic arrangements strangely appealing in their own way.

  His gaze drifted to a collection of cy jars on a low shelf near the corner, most sealed with wax and stamped with faded symbols. He reached out, running a thumb over the cool, ungzed surface of one.

  On it was a small, crudely drawn illustration of two hands kneading a shoulder. He blinked, surprised to see something so specific and… utilitarian.

  Curious, he picked it up. A paper bel, yellowed with age, was tied to the neck with a piece of twine. The handwriting was spidery and faint, but Leo could make it out: 'Soothes Aching Muscles. Warms the Skin. For the Tiresome Labor of the Day.'

  But it was the subtext beneath, a second, smaller line of text, that truly caught his eye.

  '...or for other, less tiresome bors.'

  A slow, wicked grin spread across Leo's face. He pictured Sera, backlit by the candlelight of their cottage, the tension of the day melting from her shoulders. He pictured his own hands on her skin, slick with the fragrant oil, tracing the lines of her body…

  Marsh ambled back from the dim recesses of the shop, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a grimace that was trying not to be a smile. He clutched a small, brown-paper-wrapped parcel in one hand.

  "Let me guess," Leo said. "Gwen talked you into buying the polished skull of a cave troll. Dar can put it on the mantel."

  "Worse," Marsh grunted, shaking the package gently. "Heard my story about Dar being 'slightly upset' and decided I needed a two-part apology."

  He peeled back a corner of the paper to reveal a small, hand-held mirror.

  "He said the first part is for me. So I can see the fool that I am."

  He then unwrapped the rest of it. On the worn velvet lining y two simple brass earrings, shaped like tiny leaves. They weren't fine, but they shone with a warm, deep gold color.

  "And these are for Dar. Nice, aren't they? I'm sure Dar would love it," he let out a heavy sigh, though the tension in his shoulders had eased.

  "How much?"

  "A silver and ten coppers," Marsh mumbled, tucking the packages away as if they might burn a hole in his pocket. "He saw me coming from a mile away. At least the haggling was quick."

  "Cheaper than sleeping outside. Dar will be happy," Leo let out a short ugh and cpped him on the shoulder.

  "She better be."

  "Ah, damn," Leo said, making a show of patting his own empty belt pouch. "I forgot something. I'll be right back."

  Without waiting for a reply, he ducked around a precariously stacked tower of leather-bound books and made a beeline for the low shelf where the cy jars sat.

  Gwen, having concluded his business with Marsh, had already shuffled back to his counter, his attention now absorbed in the delicate task of polishing a small silver locket with a dirty rag.

  Leo approached the counter, pcing the jar down with a quiet clink. Gwen's magnified eyes lifted from the locket, settling on the items.

  "A wise choice, young man," he said. His gaze flickered up from the massage oil to meet Leo's. A knowing glimmer appeared in the depths of those ancient eyes. "For 'other, less tiresome bors,' yes? Twenty coppers."

  "Thank you, " a blush crept up Leo's neck as he pced the coins on the counter, before turning away, slipping the items into a deep inside pocket of his tunic, away from any prying eyes.

  "Took you long enough," Marsh grumbled without turning as Leo rejoined him.

  The two of them then came back to Harwick's to retrieve Leo's purchases. Before setting back out to meet up with Hemlock, Leo arranged whatever he could into the pot, before covering the opening with a spare piece of cloth, so that no one could see the content inside.

  Whatever he couldn't fit went into his and Marsh's pockets, or into a cloth bundle that Marsh hefted over his shoulder.

  ---

  "You two are finally here," Hemlock pointed at the donkey. "Hop on. I've waited long enough."

  Leo hauled himself up onto the bed of the cart, the heavy iron pot a solid weight in his p. Marsh followed, nding with a tired grunt beside him, the cloth bundle of other goods held securely against his chest.

  With a flick of the reins, Hemlock urged the donkey forward, and the cart rumbled back out of Rockhaven, leaving the cmor of the market square behind.

  They rode in a comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic ctter of the wheels and the steady plod of the donkey's hooves a soothing backdrop to the golden afternoon light.

  Hemlock, sitting with practiced stillness on the driver's bench, gnced back over his shoulder. His eyes darted from Marsh's parcel to the heavy pot in Leo's p.

  "You boys made a good haul from town," he grunted, his voice a dry rasp. "I thought you were just buying a pot?"

  "Just some other necessities," Leo gave a casual ugh. "A few new bowls, and coarse millet for the next week."

  Hemlock grunted, a non-committal sound of acknowledgment. He turned back around, seemingly satisfied.

  The rest of the ride home was peaceful. As Rockhaven shrank behind them, repced by rolling fields and the familiar scent of hay, a sense of profound ease settled over them.

  Leo couldn't wait to see Sera's happy face. He would have to deal with her scolding about him overspending, but it was a price that he was happy to pay.