Ethin was vast.

I realized, in the crush of people, that it had been foolish even to hope that I might find Sid. Still, I retraced my steps to the fruit seller, who had seemed kind.

“Oh, you again,” he said, friendly enough. “The shy girl in the boy’s coat. I thought I had scared you off.”

“I wonder,” I said, “if you can help me. I’m looking for someone.”

He lifted his brows. “A merchant?”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think so.”

“Your sweetheart?”

I flushed. “No.”

His smile became wise. “I know that look on your face. Go on. Describe him.”

“Her.” When he seemed surprised, I added, “She’s a friend,” though the word felt like it didn’t fit. “She’s my age, I think.”

His brow crinkled. “She’s your friend, and you don’t know her age?”

“About my height, but a little taller. Large, black eyes. Her hair is short, cut like a boy’s, light brown, maybe, or dark gold.”

“No one looks like that.”

“She’s a traveler.”

He shook his head. “Those are just rumors. There are no travelers. There is nothing beyond the sea.”

I started to argue with him, but a Middling woman in dark green trousers and a green tunic edged with a finger’s-width of lace approached and produced a writ fragrant with perfume and latticed with elegant handwriting. The purse that dangled from her wrist was heavy. He immediately turned his attention to her. I left the stand, and wandered.

“Dreams!” someone called. “Dreams for sale!”

I traced the cry to a booth densely surrounded by people.

“Your most deeply held desire! Or a dream of flight? A sweet cat-nap for the timid! A nightmare for the brave! One vial of dream vial for one hundred god-crowns.”

“Who would buy a nightmare?” I murmured to myself.

“They would,” said a voice behind me.

I turned to see a boy, a Middling child whose dark head barely reached my shoulder. His light eyes looked up into mine, then flicked left. I followed his gaze to see two young men approaching the stall.

High Kith. One wore close-fitting trousers in Elysium crimson; the other’s hand flashed with a large emerald ring. Though I was far away, I could tell that his ear glinted with more jewels, and his black hair gleamed with intricate braids. Even if the men’s dress hadn’t marked their kith, their expressions would have made it obvious: the dreamy disdain as they made their way through the Middling crowd, the manner in which people stepped to the side to let them pass, as though each person in the crowd were a pleat on a fan rapidly folded. Faded amusement floated across the expressions of the High-Kith men.

“You’re staring.” The boy laughed.

“They would never buy a nightmare.”

“Of course they would. When your life is filled with pleasure, a brush with danger is fun.”

I thought about Sid treating imprisonment as a fascinating adventure. “Maybe you’re right. What would you buy?”

He squinted one eye. “Middlings can’t buy magic.”

“But if you could.” I said it quickly, so that he wouldn’t think I didn’t already know that.

He shrugged. “It is as it is.” But his face was hard with dissatisfaction.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said, and described Sid.

He rubbed his chin, a little exaggerated in the gesture. He probably knew full well that acting like an old man was charming in one so young. “And what kind of dream would she buy?”

I huffed. “Her most deeply held desire.” Then I thought again. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past her to drink a nightmare and desire at the same time.”

“Why do you want to find someone like that?”

I bristled. “You’re a little young to be so nosy. Shouldn’t you be in bed at this hour?”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the wall?”

My breath caught in my throat. I felt as light as paper.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t tell.”

But I couldn’t speak.

“I promise,” he said.

When I remained silent, he said, “Me, I want a way up quarter, same as you. A way out. I want what they’ve got.” He nodded at the High-Kith young men, who had purchased several dream vials, pocketing all but one. That vial they uncorked, and stood sniffing at the contents. “Why don’t you ask them about your friend?” he said. “You don’t make such a bad Middling. I just have a savvy eye.”

“How,” I said, “did you know?”

“Next time, pretend like you belong. Lie to yourself until you believe it.”

Could I do that?

“It’s a midnight lie,” he said reassuringly. “High Kith are easier to fool than Middlings, since we mix around the city a lot and see all sorts of people.”

One of the men touched a finger to the contents of a vial and then to his tongue. His eyes widened. Then he schooled his expression back into boredom.

“Go on,” the boy said. “Ask them.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, do you want to find your friend or not,” he said, and turned, ducking into the crowd of people behind him.

It was true that of anybody in this market, the two High-Kith men were the likeliest to know Sid. The deference that the warden of the jail, a Middling, had shown to her had made it clear that even if she came from a place with no kiths, here she was thought of as High—or at least she could play the part convincingly.

I thought about how I had believed Sid to be a boy simply because of her hair and clothes and that it was dark.

Well, and how she spoke about women.

How she spoke about me.

My cheeks grew hot. The burn on my cheek pulsed with pain.

Maybe, yes, I felt confident enough that the Middling boy was right, that most people don’t think beyond what they believe they know to be true. But it wasn’t confidence that pushed me toward the High-Kith men. It wasn’t daring.

It was the need to escape my own blush.

I ignored it and marched up to them. “Excuse me,” I said.

The one dressed in Elysium crimson dropped the vial he was holding. It smashed at his feet. A violet vapor rose from the shards and twined about his ankles.