"Fresh mushrooms! Fresh mushrooms!" I shouted, voice thin and sharp, bringing the last bundle up on my hip. "Girl, those won't sell themselves." The matron at stall three wiped her hands on her apron and did not bother to look up at me. "Listen," I said, "these are not the slim things the city sells. These were picked under old stones. They keep, they cure stomachs, they make broth that won't kill you." "You sound like some traveling herb-seller," the matron grunted. "Price?" "Three coins for one wrapped bundle. Take two, I throw in a pocket of wild greens." I smiled without smiling. Showing teeth makes people trade faster. The matron inspected my work, thumbs over the string knots, nose wrinkled. "You wrapped these neat. Where'd you learn that?" "From someone who needs me alive," I said. "Not an answer? Fine. Two coins." "No." She tossed the coin pouch toward me. "One coin and a promise you don't eat the rest." A hand darted from behind a stall and grabbed the string of a bundle. I heard the rip before I saw the kid run. "Hey!" I lunged, catching him by the collar. "Let go! Let go!" He was small, eyes wide. "Please, miss, I'm hungry." I looked at the matron. She looked at her coins. The market's morning noise went on like it didn't care someone would steal today. "Give him a green," the matron said. "And keep the coin. You