Eighty-Four: Market Survey
Lilith kept her questions about the North Market’s past bottled like winter tea, even though the Little White Dragon’s curiosity flickered like a lantern; now wasn’t the right season to pry. She decided to ask Nidhogg after they went home at night, and for now drifted with their plan like a leaf on a steady current.
“What does the North Market mainly trade?” Lilith asked, her voice light as wind, walking beside the two half-locals. The Little White Dragon only knew it was the first stop for land folk arriving in Lamter by magic car, though she’d been the odd one—most chose the North Market as their first step, while Nidhogg carried her straight up the Holy Mountain like a gust.
“Mostly goods from outside get brought here,” Nidhogg grumbled, her tone a low thunder. “It’s strange—the place sits closest to the passenger hub, the Magic Car Center, yet almost no Lamter-made stuff gets sold here. Travelers wanting to buy anything have to trek to the central commercial street like marching through fog.”
“That is odd. So the North Market mostly faces Lamter locals, right?” The Little White Dragon nodded, riding Nidhogg’s complaint like a small wave, and Lilith followed that current with a gentle guess.
“Exactly, and that’s why we chose the North Market as our survey site,” Mio said, voice calm as a pine forest. “Set at the foot of Mari Mountain, the North Market stands for the modern Lamter sense of the new and the trending. Unlike the unruly South Market, the North Market carries Lamter’s dreams and longing for everything beyond the screen of mountains. The goods and information sold here are the mirror and the window—most Lamter folk’s imagination and yearning for the world outside the peaks. If you want to read Lamter’s present mind, one of the two places you must go is the North Market.”
“What’s the other?” the Little White Dragon asked, lifting her chin like a sparrow.
“The South Market,” Mio answered without hesitating, his words sure as stone. “North and south, two markets pressed against Mari Mountain and the Mari Sea like twin moorings. In young eyes, the North Market means wealth and glitter, carrying every bright fantasy of the future. The South Market means endless exploration and the wide unknown, the most vibrant tide in all of Lamter. I’m guessing Nidhogg didn’t let you play enough last time—have her take you again when the sun’s kind.”
Lilith nodded, happiness rising like morning mist; she didn’t fully grasp the value of Mio’s two-market read, but the thought of going out with Nidhogg rang like a bell, so the Little White Dragon agreed in one breath.
“Not much fun, not as good as the North,” Nidhogg said, shaking her head, a cloud that wouldn’t rain. Her mouth was reluctant, but she didn’t refuse Lilith’s request; she shifted the topic like turning a compass, and the Little White Dragon took that turn as consent. “Speaking of which, I remember a beautiful jewelry store here—wonder if it’s still around.”
“The one with feather pieces?” Mio’s brow folded like paper, thinking a beat. “It’s probably closed. They used to sell jewelry styles handed down from Gaul, most made by copying old techniques like tracing frost patterns. The economy dipped a few years back. Seems they pivoted and now sell fur-and-hide accessories, a craft from Ursus.”
“I don’t know what sense it makes for Ice Spirits to sell tundra goods in Lamter, but the sales are decent—baffling as mirage,” Mio tossed out, casual as a snowflake.
“Maybe it’s the looks,” Nidhogg replied, easy as a breeze. “Their little trinkets are pretty, and Ursus work too—better than what the sea folk churn out, by a long shot.”
“You’re right. Let’s find the shop and see for ourselves,” Mio said, cutting idle chat like a clean blade. “Comment after we’ve got something in hand.”
Nidhogg had no objection, her agreement steady as a mountain. If the Black Dragon had none, the Little White Dragon had none; the Archbishop, here for fieldwork like a pilgrim with a ledger, had even less reason to argue. They quickened their steps, following the thread of Nidhogg’s memory like tracking footprints in fresh snow.
“Whoa, so pretty.” The Little White Dragon’s delight burst like a firework the moment she stepped inside, her gaze snagged by hair ornaments gleaming behind glass. Lilith darted to the case like an excited pup catching a scent, eyes shining like lanterns on festival night.
“How do they even make this?” she breathed, fixated on a brown leather pendant. White tracery lay over its top like snow settling on roofs, while soft blue stripes and a red tassel lifted the piece out of what should’ve been dull brown like sunrise on earth.
She raised it to her ear, fingers nimble as sparrows, twisting the red cord with a small lock of her own hair; the pendant hung by her head like a single leaf caught mid-fall, and it suited her perfectly.
“Does it look good?” Lilith asked with a grin bright as dawn.
“Looks good,” Nidhogg answered without a blink, her voice warm as ember. The Black Dragon stepped to her side, took another fur pendant and an ice-crystal ear cuff from the case, and set them in Lilith’s hands like placing snow on a sill. “These all fit you. Want to try?”
“Mm, okay.” Lilith hesitated like a drifting feather, then accepted the little pieces, ready to test them one by one, watching each reflection ripple.
“If it’s not good, say so straight. I doubt I can carry something this pretty,” she warned, mock-fierce as a kitten baring teeth, slipping the ornaments on.
“Got it,” Nidhogg said, indulgent as spring sun, staying close to Lilith and helping her tame the tricky fur pieces like smoothing a wild pelt.
“Couples like them are pretty common in Lamter now,” Mio sighed, watching one black and one white dragon tease each other like swallows trading calls.
“In our day, never mind being like them—just holding hands took all your courage,” the Archbishop murmured, a soft bell of memory. “Times change fast, like river ice breaking.”
