I did not expect to like the little market in the shadow of Dashski’s manor. It was a sedate, peaceful place, unlike the colorful stalls and booths of the main market. Bruni and I had grown used to gossiping with the other merchants out there, but everyone here was respectfully silent. It took several days to even get them to acknowledge us. However I had found a quiet enjoyment, spending the days with Bruni and Faffa while we sat behind our silks.
“I think that one is also an Inquisitor,” Bruni said, pointing at the coffee seller who did not speak to anyone, even customers.
“Or that one,” I said, nodding in the direction of another silk merchant whose wares were, if possible, even worse than ours.
“Maybe everyone in the market is an Inquisitor, and it’s just one big trap,” Faffa said,
