86. Industrial Goods: An Overview

Lilith clipped on the earrings etched with Nidhogg’s name. The Little White Dragon didn’t have piercings, so she’d picked ear cuffs—ice-crystal drops that hung like frozen dew.

They felt a touch heavy, pinching her ear like a snowflake stubbornly clinging. She frowned and shook her head, trying to get used to the new weight.

“What’s wrong? Not comfy?” Nidhogg watched her expression tighten, the Black Dragon’s voice warm like embers under ash.

“It’s fine. Just not used to it yet,” Lilith said. Her fingers brushed the cold crystal, Nidhogg’s name cut into the ice like letters under winter light. Her mood lifted, like sun melting frost, and the drag felt bearable.

“If you want my advice, get a piercing and a proper hoop. Ear cuffs are fussy,” Nidhogg said. She could tell the Little White Dragon wasn’t used to anything hanging off her ear, but the purchase was made; no sense in regret now.

“I don’t like piercings,” the little dragon muttered, voice small as a kitten in a basket. She couldn’t understand poking holes in yourself just to thread on rings. The thought of a tiny wound on her ear that wouldn’t heal made her shiver like a leaf.

“Your preferences come first,” Nidhogg soothed. She touched Lilith’s ear, thumb warm as river stones, then reminded gently, “Take them off before any intense activity, or they’ll fall.”

“Mm.” Lilith nodded. She tucked the warning away like a note under her pillow. She cherished the Black Dragon’s gift; if it fell and chipped, her heart would crack like thin ice.

“Good. Let’s go?” Nidhogg saw the lesson had landed, and let the ice-crystal rest where it was. She laced her fingers with Lilith’s, and led her toward the door like night guiding moonlight.

The Archbishop and Mio followed them out, after watching the pair being lovey-dovey for ages. Mio, sweeted-out to the point of nausea, moved aside and covered her eyes like the sun was too bright.

Before leaving, the Archbishop dug a few coins from her purse and set them on the counter, a quiet clink like pebbles in a stream. The elf clerk blinked, stunned.

“Uh, ma’am, what are you—?” the clerk asked, voice wavering like a reed in wind.

“Ah—she hasn’t shopped in decades and thought things were like the old days,” Mio said quickly. She whisked the Archbishop away, then turned back to the clerk with an apologetic smile, bowing like a willow in rain.

“Lamter doesn’t do tips anymore,” Mio whispered to the Archbishop. “Around here, a tip isn’t considered part of a fair exchange. The devout Mali faithful won’t accept pay outside a proper trade. You’ll only trouble her.”

“Oh.” The Archbishop, dressed like an ordinary elf girl, nodded and filed yet another change away, like a fresh page in an old ledger.

“So why didn’t Typhon come with us today? She promised to stroll Lamter with me,” Lilith grumbled under the shop eaves. The Little White Dragon huffed and complained to the Black Dragon by her side. “New flame, old ties forgotten—after meeting Litt, her soul’s gone. I’m her sister.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Nidhogg sighed, and ruffled Lilith’s hair. The bristling little dragon was a hedgehog on edge, yet her hair was soft, like the fluff of a well-fed lamb.

The Black Dragon had perfected the art of soothing by touch, sliding the Little White Dragon into a warm, calm simmer. Under that gentle hand, Lilith’s temper folded like wings, and she rubbed into Nidhogg’s palm with her eyes half-closed, a cat seeking sun.

“She went to see Litt to learn more—for you. Litt is your daughter in name; who competes with their daughter?” Nidhogg tapped Lilith’s nose and smiled. “Besides, Typhon said she wanted to browse the South Market. She’s already toured the North Market on arrival, so she wanted a change. That’s why she didn’t come.”

The Black Dragon knew perfectly well where Typhon had gone. In truth, every word was a pebble tossed to distract a trusting little dragon. Typhon hadn’t visited the North Market, and a dragon who loved wilds and hunts had no interest in the South. Litt was tempting, but she’d rather have stayed with Lilith. She left only because Nidhogg asked her to, given a task like an arrow sent ahead.

What task? Nidhogg didn’t plan to say. When Lilith should know, she’d know—like a bell rung at the right hour.

“Okay then, where next?” Lilith nodded, easily persuaded, innocence shining like clear water. She waved to Mio and the Archbishop, who were still mid-debate about Lamter’s no-tip rule. “You two, stop chatting and pick our next stop.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rush me,” Mio grumbled, though she came over with brisk steps, wind at her heels. She stopped before the Little White Dragon. “Before we plan the route, we need to talk about something else.”

“We all know the North Market caters to outsiders,” Mio said. “It’s a bazaar of the four winds—goods from everywhere, and Lamter’s own products too. Most important among them are Lamter’s industrial goods.”

“Industrial goods?” Lilith tilted her head, eyes clear as glass.

“Right. Products from the vast industrial zones across the Selnosser Plain,” Mio said, chin angled toward the North Market’s eastern edge. “Before we head to the industrial district, let’s get a feel for Lamter’s best sellers here.”