Carefully, so that I don’t drop anything, I find the tiny latch at the base of the rattle and flick it open, just like Rosario showed me months ago. The ball of the rattle dislodges from the base with a pop, and I upend the contents into my palm.

Four gemstones wink up at me, small but lovely. A sapphire of royal blue, an emerald with one noticeable inclusion but still beautiful. A tiny ruby with a slight pink cast. A golden tiger’s-eye. “How much will you give me for these?”

The merchant’s eyes widen. He lowers his head to peer closely at my palm. “Hmmm,” he says. “Interesting. I don’t know. . . . Maybe that one . . .”

“Sir?” I prompt.

“I don’t have enough coin on hand to purchase them all,” he says. “But I can give you three gold crowns and eight silvers for the tigereye and the emerald.”

I don’t know much about gemstones, but that price hardly seems fair. Alas, I’m in too much of a hurry to haggle much. “Throw in that silk amulet bag,” I say, pointing to a tiny bag of blue silk embroidered with green vines and leaves. “And you have a deal.” It hangs on a silken tie and closes tight with matching drawstrings. Ladies wear them to keep locks of their children’s hair close to their hearts, or fill them with their favorite scent. It will be perfect for carrying my Godstone.

“Deal,” says the merchant, and we make the exchange.

I slip the Godstone into my new amulet pouch as I move to the next stall, a weapons seller with several items on display, including a crossbow, a few swords, and several daggers. Showpieces for noble scions. Most of the daggers are fairly useless, with their ornate hilts and tiny blades, best for breaking seals on correspondence.

“Let me see that sword,” I say to the merchant, a younger man with day-old stubble and a blacksmith’s apron.

He hands me the one I indicate. It’s smaller than the others, but it comes with a belted scabbard, and when I hold it out straight, the light hits the steel blade with perfect evenness and clarity. “A nice piece,” I tell him.

“I made it myself!” he beams. “That’s Basajuan steel too, so you’ll never have to worry about it shattering.”

“How much?”

“Five golden crowns.”

I set the sword back on the counter, disappointed. “I don’t have that much.”

“Well, make me an offer I can’t refuse,” he says.

I fish out my baby rattle again, and retrieve the ruby. “Three crowns and this ruby.”

“Done!” he says, so quickly that I’m sure I’ve overpaid.

But if danger is coming for Rosario, no price is too high. Now I have a sword, a safe way to carry my Godstone, and enough silver to eat for several weeks. Buoyed by my success, I head toward the monastery entrance.

Five paces away, I stop short. My throat itches. My limbs twitch. There’s a buzzing inside me, like something is about to burst from my skin. I look around frantically, because I know this feeling.