Finale (Caraval 3)

It felt like entering an illustrated history book. Women wore bell-sleeved dresses with dropped waists and low-slung belts made of heavy embroidery, while the men wore homespun shirts that laced up in the front, and loose pants tucked into wide-brimmed boots.

Between the tents, children dressed in similar clothes pretended to fight with wooden swords, or sat braiding wreaths out of flowers.

“Greetings! Greetings! Greetings! The Vanished Market is at your service. You might not walk away with what you want, but we’ll give you what you need!” hollered a man dressed like a herald, as Tella ventured farther in.

Clearly they were used to visitors from other times. None of them seemed to care that the calf-length dress and worn leather boots she’d borrowed from a servant did not fit in. If anything, it seemed to excite everyone.

“Hello, sweeting, would you like something to brighten up your ashen complexion and bring your beloved back?” A woman wearing a thin gold circlet around her brow held out an amulet full of blushing pink liquid.

“What about some fresh roasted seaweeds?” another vendor called. “They heal broken hearts and noses.”

“She doesn’t want your rotted weeds. They don’t cure anything! What the young lady really needs is this.” The merchant across from him, a heavily wrinkled man with several missing teeth, thrust out an elaborate beaded headdress as broad as a parasol, with streaming veils as thin as spiderwebs. “If you are not careful, milady, soon your skin will be as lined as mine.”

“Don’t tell the girl that. She’s beautiful!” cried a dark-skinned woman in an ivory wimple. Her shop was the most crowded of the bunch. There weren’t even tables inside, just glistening piles of the peculiar. “Here, peer into my mi

rror, child.” The woman shoved her arm in front of Tella.

“I’m not—” Tella broke off as she caught a clear gaze of the mirror. Its edges were covered in thick swirls of molten gold, just like the Aracle—a Fated object that Tella had relied upon a little too much when it had been trapped inside of a card.

Tella didn’t know if it was the actual Aracle now free from the cards, but she quickly averted her eyes and took a rapid step back, before it could show any ill images of the future.

“In the correct hands, it will reveal more than your reflection,” the woman cooed.

“I’m not interested! I like my reflection as it is.” Tella continued to stumble away. After that she tried her best not to be distracted as merchants attempted to sell her brushes that would ensure she’d never lose her hair, drops that would turn her eyes any color she wished, and a disturbing dessert called hummingbird pie.

Every vendor was friendly and a little too eager, as if Tella were the first guest in centuries, which might have been the case, since the Vanished Market had been trapped in a cursed Deck of Destiny, too.

“I have shoes that will keep you from ever getting lost. They’re yours if you trade me all of your pretty locks of hair.” This enthusiastic vendor already had a heavy pair of shears in his hands.

Tella was certain he’d have chopped off all her hair without any permission if she’d not quickly darted into the next tent. It was emptier than the others, with nothing but a pair of turquoise-and-peach-striped curtains that fell from the fabric roof to the dirt floor.

A strikingly beautiful girl, about Tella’s age, with flawless skin and lovely cobalt eyes the same color as her hair, sat in front of the curtains on a tall stool. She greeted Tella with an incandescent smile, but Tella swore that paintings had more depth in their eyes. Unlike the other vendors, this girl didn’t offer to sell anything. She just kicked her legs back and forth like a young child.

Tella almost turned to leave, when another woman slowly shuffled forward from in between the curtains. This one was much older, with wrinkled skin and dull blue hair that looked like a washed-out version of the young girl’s. They had the same cobalt eyes as well, but while the younger girl’s were vacant, this crone’s eyes were sharp and shrewd.

Tella felt as if she were looking at two different versions of the same person. One had lost her youth while the other had lost her mind.

“Are the two of you sisters?” Tella hazarded.

“We’re twins,” replied the older one.

“How?” Tella blurted. Not that it mattered. All she should have cared about was that this was the place she was looking for. But something about these twins filled her stomach with lead.

The younger sister continued kicking her legs pleasantly while the elder sister’s lined face turned somber. “A long time ago we made a bargain that cost us far more than we’d expected. So be warned. Do not trade with us unless you are willing to pay unforeseen costs. We offer no returns or exchanges. There are no second chances. Once you purchase a secret from us, it’s yours, we will remember it no more, just as you will forget whatever we have taken from you.”

“Are you trying to get customers or scare them away?” Tella asked.

“I’m attempting to be fair. We don’t set out to trick our patrons, but the nature of our bargains means no one ever truly knows what they are gaining or losing.”

Tella didn’t actually need to be told this. She knew a bargain made in a Fated place would probably cost her more than she realized. But if they possessed a secret that would reveal a weakness capable of killing the Fallen Star, she couldn’t turn away. Fates were dangerous, but they kept their promises, and the Vanished Market promised people who entered would find what they needed. And Tella needed a secret. She needed it so that her sister would no longer be in danger, so that people wouldn’t be strung up like marionettes, and so that no one else could be killed like her mother, Legend, or Nicolas.

“All right,” Tella said. “What will it cost me to find out a secret about a Fate?”

“Depends on the Fate and the type of secret.”

“I want to know how to kill the Fallen Star.”

“That’s not a secret, precious. Immortals have only one weakness. Love.”