Jason nodded,holding firmly onto his hoodie pocket as Fatespeaker peaked out worriedly. "Rrrr~?" He gently put a finger to her delegat pointed snout and she slunk back in. He then focused his eyes firmly on Ash,the gold flecks shimmering faintly with determination.

Ash opened the narrow door with a creak and led him inside, shutting it behind him. The interior of the trunk glowed softly and had a putrid sweet smell, like decaying flowers. "Stay close," Ash whispered, and he pushed the door open again. Noise exploded through the doorway. The circular courtyard now thronged with life; the booths overflowed with merchandise; music and faery fire drifted through the night, and fey milled about in huge numbers, buying, talking and haggling with the vendors.

Jason flinched at the change in sound,but he stayed close to Ash.His breathing was soft but quick.

"Its all right," he said, leading him forward again. "In the Market, no one questions why youre here or where you came from. The only thing theyre concerned about is the deal."

He nodded,his breathing easing slowly.

A faery with a wolf's head stalked through the crowd, carrying a string of severed hands. Ash chuckled darkly. They joined the throng, who, despite the jostling, shoving and snarled insults, paid them little attention. Unearthly vendors stood beside their booths or tents, crying out their wares, beckoning to passersby with long fingers or claws. A warty goblin caught Ash's eye and grinned, pointing to his display of necklaces made of fingers, teeth, and bones. A hag waved a shrunken pigs head in Jason's face, while a hulking troll tried handing him some kind of meat-on-a-stick. It smelled wonderful, except there were crispy bird and rat heads stuck on the kebabs between other unidentifiable chunks. The oddities continued. Dream catchers made of spider silk and infant bones. Monkey Paws and Hands of Glory. One booth had a prominent display of still-beating hearts, while the tent beside it offered flowers of delicate spun glass. Everywhere they looked, they saw wonders, horrors, and the just plain weird. The vendors were incredibly persistent; if they caught you looking, they would leap in front of you, shouting the marvels of their wares and offering "a deal you can't refuse."

Dang,all this made Jason as uncomfortable as heck and he could feel that it made the little ice creatures uncomfortable as well,but they stayed curled up in his hoodie pocket,Fatespeaker softly calming little Shade. He pulled his wings close to try and keep from brushing anyone and literally tried to avoid looking at anything,but no he didn't close his eyes. He knew that wouldn't turn out well. This was similar to what the toxic wings would do back in the dragon realm,trying to offer fake healing things and poisons against their enemies. Of course really nothing came without a price,often it was a price of a life.

Sometimes, a glare from the Ice prince would cower the more persistent vendors who followed them through the aisles or latched on to Jason, but mostly they just kept moving.


Near the lake, a row of wooden docks floated above the ink-black water. A weathered tavern crouched at the shoreline like a bloated toad. A goblin staggered out holding a tankard, puked all over the sidewalk, and collapsed in it with his face to the sky. Ash stepped over the groaning body and ducked through the swinging doors.

Jason hopped over it in avoidance and kept close to Ash,head ducked a bit and tail twitching faintly.

The interior was smoky and dim. Battered wooden tables were scattered about the room, hosting a variety of unsavory-looking fey, from the redcap gang in the corner to the single, goat-headed phouka who watched them with glowing yellow eyes. Ash glided through the room, weaving his way to the bar, where a dwarf with a tangled black beard glared at him and spit into a glass. "You shouldn't be here, Prince," he growled in an undertone, wiping the tankard with a dirty rag. "Rowan's got half the city lookin' for you. Sooner or later, the Thornguards will show up an' tear the place apart if they think were hidin' you."

"I'm looking for Sweetfinger," Ash said in an equally low voice. "I need to get out of Tir Na Nog, tonight. Do you know where he is?"

The dwarf shot Jason a sidelong glance, his thick face pulled into a scowl. "If I didn't know you better, Prince," he muttered, polishing the glass again, "I would accuse you of goin' soft. Word is you're a traitor to the Winter Court, but I don't care about that." He plunked the tankard down and leaned across the counter. "Just answer me this. Is he worth it?"