The Magic Marketplace wasn’t at all what Audun had expected. It looked a lot like it did in the tapestry, but even a magic picture couldn’t convey the noise, the smells, or the hustle and bustle of the real thing.
There were more humans there than he had ever seen in one place, but humans weren’t the only ones who frequented the market. He saw a banshee buying ointment for red eyes and a centaur examining hoof polish at the same stand. A leprechaun was haggling with a stall owner over the price of a gold pot while only a few stalls away a nymph bought fruit from a goblin. There seemed to be more witches and wizards than anything else, but as Song had warned, not everyone was what they appeared to be.
“Move it, buddy,” a goblin said, having arrived at the market right behind him.
Audun stepped out of the way, saying, “Pardon me,” and bumped into a dog.
“Careful!” growled the dog, before stepping off the raised platform surrounding the fountain and scurrying away.
Audun climbed down the steps carefully; he hadn’t practiced with stairs and wasn’t quite sure how to do them. When he reached the cobblestones that paved the streets of the marketplace, he stopped to get his bearings. He’d seen a few stalls that interested him from the height of the fountain, but now he wasn’t sure which way to go.
He was looking around when a sultry voice called to him. “Might I interest you in some spices?” It was a witch with eyelashes and hair of real gold and a face too perfect to be real. “I have spice to make the nostrils burn and to cool a steamy temper. This one smells of a summer’s day; sniff it and you’ll hear bees buzzing and feel the heat of the sun. In this basket I have moregano and lessregano. Use one to fill a glutton’s appetite and the other to make anyone hungry. Of course, I have the ordinary spices like frankincense and myrrh,” she said, pointing from one basket to the next. “Can I interest you in cinnathinamin? One teaspoon a day and you’ll lose weight in a trice. But then, I guess you wouldn’t need that, handsome.” The witch smiled and looked at him through her eyelashes in a way that might have made a normal man weak, but dragons are immune to such ploys. He shook his head and moved on.
“Maybe later,” she called after him.
“Fabric for your sweetheart?” asked the fairy at the next stall. “Think of what she’d look like in a gown made of this!” Bolts of corn silk and spiderweb lace were piled atop woven goose down and a swath of cloth made of highly colored fish scales. Cloth of gold vied for space on the table with cloths of copper and lead. The fairy shooed a mouse away from the cheesecloth, but it had already nibbled a hole in one corner.
A man who looked as if he might be part ogre called from the stand across the way, “Get your bottomless tankard here! Fill it full of ale once and it will never be empty again!” Seeing a young mother carrying an infant in one arm, while holding the hand of a small child, he crossed to the other side of his table and held up what looked like a wad of cloth. “I have bottomless diapers as well! These diapers never need changing. They’ll soak up anything . . .”
“Except the smell!” said a gnome at the stall beside his. “What you should be selling are bottomless trash cans to hold all the garbage you’re spewing.”
“Why, you little runt,” the big man growled, showing fangs half as long as his fingers. “I ought to . . . Wait a minute. A bottomless trash can . . . That’s a good idea. I can see everyone wanting one of those!”
Audun moved on, attracted by a sweet voice singing just a few stalls away. A marmoset was seated on the table, singing a song about blue skies and green leaves while a cat played a fiddle beside it. An old woman sat unmoving on a stack of crates behind the table, her eyes glazed over as if her mind was somewhere else. Audun peeked into a box on the table and was surprised to see three fully grown dogs no larger than chipmunks trying to jump out. Not one of them was making a sound, although their mouths were working as if they were barking. “Get your exotic pets!” shouted the cat with the fiddle when he saw Audun.
“Not today,” Audun said, wondering if the cat was for sale, too.
Although Audun had seen many interesting things, he had yet to find something he liked. True, the object was supposed to be for a man, not a dragon, but Audun was waiting to find something special. He was passing a stand where a wizened, little old woman was selling shoes when he overheard a loud man’s voice saying, “I don’t care if you have phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. I need dragon parts. You wouldn’t have any dragon scales, would you? Or perhaps a talon or two?”
A rack displaying necklaces made from various kinds of fangs and teeth stood between him and the customer, so Audun couldn’t see him at first. “And why would you want a dragon scale?” asked the woman. “Don’t you know that dragons never shed their scales? The only way you can get one is if they give it to you or they die and you pry it off them. You want some idiot to risk life and limb so you can pretend you killed a dragon?”
“Humph!” the man declared. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, you knucklehead! But I can’t believe you don’t have the scales, at least. Dragons have an impeccable sense of direction. You carry one of their scales and with the right spell you can find anything, including people. Anyone with half a brain in his head knows the real value of a dragon scale! A simple yes or no would have sufficed. Now you’ve wasted my time!”
Audun’s stomach churned at the thought of the man’s shopping list. He half-expected to see some sort of horrible monster when the man stepped away from the stand and Audun saw his face for the first time. His skin was weathered as if from long exposure to the sun. A drooping mustache blended into a short beard, nearly concealing his mouth. Both mustache and beard were white, as was the fringe of hair rimming his shiny, bald scalp. It’s the wizard who made the mosaic speak in East Aridia! Audun thought, and gasped.
Turning away, the wizard glanced at Audun and saw his horrified expression. “What’s wrong with you?” the old man asked. “You look as if I’d asked her to skin your mother.”
“I don’t . . . I can’t . . . ,” Audun began. Too appalled and upset to think of what to say, he fled, unaware that the old man was still watching him.
Suddenly, the market no longer seemed quite so much fun. Audun wanted to leave. He would buy something . . . anything . . . for the self-indulgent man, and go back to the dragon stronghold as soon as he could. To think that there were monsters walking around loose who would kill a dragon for its scales . . .
Thinking back on everything he’d seen, Audun decided to return to the stall where the man was selling bottomless tankards. Any self-indulgent man would surely love a tankard that never went dry. He was on his way there and was passing a stand displaying magic swords when he saw the old man’s reflection in one of the shiny blades; the wizard was following him.
A large group of people were coming down the aisle, laughing and talking as they headed for the food stalls. Audun waited until they had almost reached him before stepping into their group, leaving the wizard stuck behind them. When he thought the man couldn’t see him anymore, Audun slipped between two stalls and into the next row, where he had to wait for a procession of goats pulling heavy carts.
A stand selling seeds displayed its wares only a few feet from Audun. giant seeds! read one sign. buyer beware! read another. Smaller signs on each box described the contents within. There were beans for giant beanstalks for visiting friendly giants, peas for giant pea pods that could be turned into boats, pumpkin seeds for those wanting a new coach or small cottage, as well as onion seeds for recluses who wanted to keep everyone away from their cottages.
Audun stared blankly at the seeds as he tried to decide what to do. He had to get the tankard—it was the reason he had come and he wasn’t about to go back empty-handed—but he didn’t like the way the bald-headed man was following him.
“So what will it be?” asked a voice. Audun turned around. The bald-headed man had come up behind him and was studying the young dragon-turned-man the way a physician might a patient. “They don’t sell seeds for gunga beans or hot flami-peppers here,” the man said, smirking.
“I’ve never heard of either of them,” said Audun, edging away.
The wizard followed him, sniffing. Audun was glad he’d used the giant’s lotion and didn’t smell anything like a dragon. When the man frowned and looked down at Audun’s hands, the young dragon was grateful that Song had made him take off the ring, for this man acted as if he might actually know what it meant.
“I say we shouldn’t take them, Ratinki,” a woman at a nearby stall declared. Audun turned at the sound of the familiar voice. The two women who had flown their brooms out to meet him at the castle in Upper Montevista were standing in front of the magic-arrow seller and they both looked angry. “The last arrows we bought from him kept coming back,” continued Klorine. “Who’s to say these will be any better?”
“But those arrows were supposed to come back!” said the stall owner, a tall, thin man with a long, crooked nose. “That’s what made them so special. They were reusable arrows that you didn’t have to look for. They returned to their owners when a magic word was spoken.”
“And spitted them like trout on a stick!” exclaimed Ratinki.
The man glanced around, his eyes becoming frantic when he saw how many people had stopped to listen. “That’s why I included a free shield with each purchase of ten arrows or more! Your soldiers were supposed to use the shields to catch them!”
“Well, they didn’t! They used their bodies instead. Come on, Klorine, let’s go find some arrows that work,” Ratinki said, and the two witches turned away. “We have a big order to place, but we’re not getting them here.”
“I told you I’d give you three bundles of my new arrows to replace the ones you didn’t like,” the stall owner called after them. “Three bundles! That’s a good deal. These new arrows glow when the archer says a magic word. It makes them easy to find after a battle.”
“Glow schmo,” grumbled Ratinki, as the two women neared Audun. “We need arrows that hit their target, not look pretty lying on the ground.”
It occurred to Audun that the two witches might help him get away. Although he found it difficult to lie, that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to use the truth to his advantage. He waited until Klorine and Ratinki were close before stepping in front of them, saying, “Ladies, I wonder if I might ask you a question? Do either of you know why dragon scales are considered to be so special?”
“Because they’re tough!” snapped Ratinki.
“Because they’re pretty?” asked Klorine.
Audun shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s right about you two ladies.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Ratinki.
Audun stepped aside so the women could see the balding man behind him. “This man says that anyone with half a brain knows the real value of a dragon scale lies in its ability to help you find things!” he said, quoting the old wizard.
“He does, does he?” Ratinki said. “Why, if it isn’t Ole-bald Wizard. Half a brain, huh?” The old witch advanced on Olebald and began stabbing him in the chest with one of her knobby, crooked fingers. “I’ll tell you who the idiot is, you old sack of hot air! Why, I remember the time when you . . .”
As Audun joined a family group walking past, he couldn’t help but smile at the look of frustration on Olebald’s face. The old man was trying to speak, but neither of the witches would let him.
With Olebald no longer dogging his heels, Audun hurried to the stand where the tankards were being sold. Hoping to be gone before the wizard found him again, he plunked down his money, snatched one of the tankards, and dashed to the fountain.
“Stop,” shouted the owner of the stall. Then he glanced down at the money and didn’t say another word.
“That was awful,” Audun muttered, as he reached for the lip of the fountain. “I hope I never have to go shopping again!”