Chloe had already run out of conversation; she had a difficult task ahead of her if she wanted to learn more about him. Her thoughts instead turned to her purpose in the market.

She had gained some freedom, but unless she could ease the sun king’s pain her liberty would be revoked. Intuition told her that Tomarys would never help her escape. But with freedom, an opportunity might come.

They passed the spice market and entered a section of ceramics. Glancing at the stalls and the countless varieties of jugs, bowls, plates, amphorae, vases, urns, and cups, Chloe decided that Phalesia possessed far greater skill with pottery than the nations of the Salesian continent.

‘Tell me about your family,’ she said.

‘My father is dead. My sister cares for my mother. My brother is a slave working on the pyramid.’

‘A slave?’

‘He incurred debts he could not pay. I hope to buy my brother’s freedom. Why are we here?’

Chloe realized they would soon be at the end of the bazaar. ‘I’m looking for something.’

‘If you tell me what you are looking for I can help you.’

She hesitated, but she realized she wouldn’t find what she needed without help. ‘I need to find the soma flower.’

Tomarys suddenly stopped, gripping Chloe by the upper arm as he stared down at her. ‘You don’t mean to obtain tar of heaven?’ He shook his head. ‘It is outlawed by decree of the sun king.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I only want the flower. Among my people, it has been used for generations to ease pain. It is safe if prepared correctly, I assure you.’

Tomarys released Chloe’s arm, but continued to scowl at her. He wasn’t convinced.

‘Please, trust me,’ she said. ‘The tar and the flower it comes from are different things.’

He shook his head once more.

‘Tomarys, the sun king will no doubt have someone taste any medicine I give him. I have no wish to be killed.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘You follow the goddess of healing?’

‘Aeris is my personal deity. I studied at the temple.’

‘You are certain?’

‘I am. I don’t want the tar, only the flower.’

He finally nodded with reluctance and led her back the way they had come, turning into a thin path between a cluster of stalls until they were in a hidden section of the bazaar. This area was seedy and ramshackle, with beggars sitting against the walls and skinny youths standing lookout. A street urchin weaved around them, almost circling, his eyes appraising as he inspected the newcomers, assessing the potential for threat. But Tomarys, despite his appearance, was unarmed, and Chloe posed no danger.

Tomarys waited for the boy to nod, and then led Chloe to an old man with pockmarked skin and a hooked nose, standing outside a wooden hut and drinking tea.

‘Tell him what you want,’ Chloe’s bodyguard instructed.