The Price {Completed}

Chapter Thirty-Six

The next morning I made my way to the market that still somehow managed to do business even with the bursting of cannons always shuddering through the air from the fighting going on deeper in the city. This was the one place in all of Rumonin that did not run the risk of stepping on a cold body by accident, and where one could feel like more than a lost spirit wandering in the empty streets of a dead city. Whichever soldiers were given a brief rest before being sent back to battle always congregated in the market, buying what scarce rations they could.

Even though the market was generally packed with men and women, no one dared look at anyone else anymore. Informers turned everyone in, and for even the slightest suspicion of sympathizing with the royalty you could be thrown in jail or executed. We were in a tenuously held city, and with the neighboring royalty trying every day to break in and regain control, any sort of support of the encroaching troops was not tolerated.

I pushed my way through the crowd, trying not to smell too deeply for fear of the scent of bread driving me mad. Food was distributed according to little cards that the Vigilant Men doled out to their supporters. Women in rags shivered in the snow as they queued for a bit of bread in long lines that stretched far too long. I dodged them, knowing I wouldn't get anything to eat from this area, and worked my way to the back of the market where I knew the less reputable vendors sold their wares out of suitcases and coat-pockets.

A man with a greasy mustache leaned against a wall, and I approached from an angle. He didn't look up as I stopped by his side, looking down at his boots.

"I've one copper," I said, my voice low and my eyes flicking toward a group of soldiers a few feet away playing a hasty game of dice.

"Bread's on the menu," the man said, digging into his pocket and coming out with a small chunk of bread crust. It was obviously old and stale, but it looked delicious to me. I held the copper out in my palm, and he swapped our goods.

"Better scurry," he said, nodding his head toward the soldiers who were now staring at us. The man with the mustache pushed away from the wall, losing himself in the crowd effortlessly. I stuffed my contraband bread into my pocket and slid into a group of women standing around a stall selling boots. As long as I didn't make a scene, the soldiers were most likely going to let me go. Small infractions of the ration system didn't upset them enough to pursue skinny girls through crowds, but if I added any more reason they wouldn't think twice before aiming a pistol at my head.

As I clutched my hunk of bread in my pocket with one hand, I pretended to look over the wares of the vendor. There were about five pairs of shoddy boots in all, and I knew from the look of them that they were stolen off dead bodies. I'd handed over many of the army-issued boots to the ladies in charge of our robbing ring, and these very ones could have been a pair I'd pulled from some corpse's limp feet.

My stomach flipped over and I quickly pushed away from the boots. My lips pinched together and I shoved through the women, wanting to reach an alley that would take me to a street where no one would see my tears.

As I walked, I heard my name. My steps faltered and my head jerked up before I could think better of it. I couldn't pinpoint where the sound of my name had come from, or even if I had really heard it, but I didn't want to linger. There were not many people in this city who knew my name for any good reason, and if a soldier who happened to know I was wanted to report for duty in the army had recognized me, then I was about to do a lot of running.

My steps hurried when I heard my name again. This time it was closer and louder, and said in a feminine voice. I ducked my head, pushing between a group of soldiers, hoping to lose myself in their tight ranks, but then I felt an arm on my elbow. I tried to shrug free, but the grip tightened and pulled me backward a step.