Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [28]
Despite the apparent chaos, the market was meticulously organized. Rigorous standards were applied to all traders, pitches were allocated under a strict licensing system and the marketplace was divided into sectors according to the kinds of goods sold. Generally the Northern Traders’ Market was an orderly affair, but the final day was a frenetic time and the market was packed. Crowds of people moved from stall to stall, grabbing bargains, buying things they didn’t really need “just in case,” taking a last chance to buy MidWinter feast presents. The tall, pale-eyed Northern Traders cried out their wares at the tops of their voices, trying to sell all the odds and ends that no one had wanted—up until now. The urgency in their lilting singsong voices carried over the hubbub and reminded people that the MidWinter Feast was only a few days away, and then the Big Freeze was coming.
Every year of her life—bar one, the year she had turned ten—Jenna had visited the craft section, known as Makers’ Mile. Makers’ Mile was a relatively new section of the market; it extended out of the official market place, straggled along the road and ran around the outside of the large, brick-paved circle at the end of Ceremonial Way. As Jenna had grown older she would wander along the Mile, silently planning her perfect present list for her birthday. She had rarely received anything on the list, but it didn’t take away the fun of dreaming. This year Jenna had found nothing remotely funny to give to Septimus in the main market and decided to head out along Makers’ Mile for a last visit. As she elbowed her way toward it through the fur and prepared skins area and caught the overpowering smell of Foryx fur, Jenna noted wryly that the normal Castle respect for the Princess did not apply in the market.
At last she emerged into the infinitely more sweet-smelling Makers’ Mile. With her old feeling of birthday anticipation, Jenna began to wander along, browsing the stalls. By the time she had walked around the circle twice, Jenna had still not found anything funny to give Septimus, but she suspected the reason had more to do with how she was feeling about Septimus than any of the goods that were on offer. She decided to head for her favorite stall—silver jewelry and lucky charms—which she had spotted near the Makers’ Mile Tally Hut.
The stall belonged to Sophie Barley, a talented young Port jeweler. (Unlike the rest of the market, Makers’ Mile had stalls available to those who were not Northern Traders. They were mainly taken by those who lived in the Port, as Castle people preferred to buy from the market rather than sell.) Jenna was surprised to find that instead of the friendly Sophie, the stall was manned by three odd-looking women dressed in varying shades of black. Behind the stall, in an old armchair, was slumped an elderly woman with her face plastered in thick white makeup and her eyes closed. The old woman was watched over by a slight figure swathed in a muddy black cloak with a voluminous hood.
“Ooh, it’s the Princess!” Jenna heard an excited whisper escape from beneath the hood.
“Leave this to me, dingbat,” came the response from the fiercest-looking woman in the stall, who was clearly the boss and who—Jenna saw as she briefly glanced up—had a very nasty stare.
The boss eyeballed Jenna. “How may I help you?” she asked. The two other stallholders—a lanky woman with her hair piled on top of her head like a spike and a short, dumpy one with food stains down her front—nudged each other and giggled behind the boss’s back.
The last thing Jenna wanted was help. Sophie always let her browse and try on anything she liked. And Sophie certainly didn’t snatch the first thing she picked up and say, “That will be half a crown. We don’t give change. Wrap it up, Daphne,” which is what the boss-with-the-stare did with the delicate heart-shaped pendant with tiny wings that Jenna had lifted from its velvet pad.
“But I don’t want to buy it,” Jenna protested.