Chapter 4: The Shadow Market
The entrance to Coghaven’s underground market lay behind a rusted steam vent in a forgotten alley, marked only by three copper rivets arranged in a triangle. Hannah pressed each one in sequence, feeling the ancient mechanisms grind beneath her fingers. The wall shuddered, releasing a breath of stale air that carried the mingled scents of oil, desperation, and forbidden things.
James had warned her about this place, on nights when worry kept them whispering long after Thomas had fallen asleep. The shadow market deals in more than goods, he’d said, his voice heavy with hard-earned wisdom. It trades in secrets, in hopes, in pieces of soul. Be careful what you’re willing to bargain away.
The crystal pulsed against her hip as she descended worn stone steps into darkness. Each beat seemed to echo Thomas’s labored breathing, reminding her why she had no choice but to brave these depths. Their son’s life was worth any price the shadows might demand.
Oil lamps cast shifting patterns on the curved tunnel walls, their flames dancing like trapped spirits. Hannah kept to the edges, remembering James’s lessons about surviving in dangerous places. Stay where the shadows are deepest, he’d taught her. Watch everything, trust no one, and always know your way back to the light.
The tunnel opened into a vast chamber that had once been a maintenance hub for Coghaven’s ancient machinery. Now it housed a different kind of industry. Makeshift stalls crowded the space, their contents obscured by heavy curtains. Traders moved between them like smoke, their faces hidden beneath hoods or masks. The air hung thick with whispered deals and muffled warnings.
Hannah touched the crystal through her pocket, drawing strength from its warmth. Its subtle glow would attract attention down here, where power crystals were as rare as true kindness. She needed to find the right buyer – someone desperate enough to pay fair value, but not so desperate they’d try to take it by force.
A merchant watched her from behind a display of mechanical parts, his eyes glinting like polished copper in the lamplight. The pieces spread before him might have been stripped from living bodies or dead machines – down here, it was better not to ask. She moved past, ignoring his whispered offers of augmentation at reasonable prices.
“You carry light in your pocket, friend.” The voice emerged from shadows to her left, soft as silk across steel. “Dangerous thing to bring into darkness.”
Hannah turned slowly, keeping her back to the wall. A figure sat behind a small table draped in black velvet. Thin fingers traced patterns in a scatter of brass gears, arranging and rearranging them like fortune-telling bones. The merchant’s face remained hidden beneath layers of dark fabric, but something about their presence spoke of patient calculation.
“I carry what I carry,” Hannah replied carefully, James’s teachings steady in her mind. “And I know its worth.”
The figure’s hands stilled. “Do you? Worth is such a fluid thing down here. Like mercury – beautiful, precious, and poison all at once.” They gestured to the chair across the table. “Sit. Let us discuss the weight of light.”
Hannah hesitated, then settled onto the offered seat. Up close, she could see that the merchant’s hands bore the marks of old burns, the skin rippled like cooling metal. Someone who had paid for their knowledge in flesh.
“I need a sand skiff,” she said quietly, watching those scarred hands return to their dance among the gears. “One that can cross the wastes to Steelwatch in a day.”
“Ah.” The merchant’s voice carried a smile she couldn’t see. “Not just transport then. You seek speed. Safety. A chance to race the sun.” They leaned forward slightly. “Those are expensive dreams, friend. Show me what burns in your pocket.”
Hannah glanced around, ensuring no eager eyes watched too closely. Then she withdrew the crystal just enough for its light to paint the underside of the table in soft radiance. The merchant’s breath caught – a small tell, but enough to confirm the crystal’s value.
“Pure.” The word emerged reverent, almost hungry. “Not salvage or secondary. A true heart-shard from the deep mines.” The merchant’s hands moved faster among the gears, agitation betraying excitement. “What else do you carry, I wonder? What other lights burn beneath your skin?”
“The crystal is enough,” Hannah said firmly, tucking it away. “More than enough for what I seek.”
The merchant was silent for a long moment, their hidden gaze heavy as lead. “Perhaps,” they said finally. “I know someone with a skiff. Well-maintained, modified for speed. He asks no questions about his customers’ intentions.” A pause laden with meaning. “But he does not deal with all who come seeking.”
“What does he require?”
“Proof of worth. Not just in trade, but in character. The Wastes are dangerous, friend. He would not sell tools of death to those who might use them unwisely.” The merchant’s hands finally stilled. “Tell me – what drives you to risk the sun’s domain?”
Hannah thought of Thomas, waiting alone in their tiny home. Of his drawings pinned to crumbling walls, each one a prayer for something better. Of James’s final gift, leading them toward hope or doom. “Love,” she said simply. “The kind that burns brighter than fear.”
The merchant nodded slowly, as if hearing more than her words. One scarred hand reached beneath the table and returned with a brass token bearing the image of a rising sun. “Go to the far corner, past the pipe organ that no longer sings. Show this to the man with copper rings in his beard. If he asks, tell him Mercury sent you.”
Hannah took the token, feeling its weight like a key turning in a lock. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, friend.” The merchant’s voice carried a warning. “I’ve opened a door, nothing more.
Hannah rose, tucking the token into her boot beside her knife. As she turned to go, the merchant spoke once more: “A gift, freely given – watch the man’s rings when you deal. If they turn green, he means to betray you. Copper shows truth like a mirror, if you know how to read it.”
She nodded, understanding the weight of knowledge freely given in this place of careful bargains. Then she merged back into the shadows, making her way deeper into the market’s maze. Behind her, the merchant’s hands continued their endless dance, telling fortunes in brass and shadow while the crystal burned like captured hope against Hannah’s hip.