He shook his head. “Those are just rumors. There are no travelers. There is nothing beyond the sea.”

I started to argue with him, but a Middling woman in dark green trousers and a green tunic edged with a finger’s-width of lace approached and produced a writ fragrant with perfume and latticed with elegant handwriting. The purse that dangled from her wrist was heavy. He immediately turned his attention to her. I left the stand, and wandered.

“Dreams!” someone called. “Dreams for sale!”

I traced the cry to a booth densely surrounded by people.

“Your most deeply held desire! Or a dream of flight? A sweet cat-nap for the timid! A nightmare for the brave! One vial of dream vial for one hundred god-crowns.”

“Who would buy a nightmare?” I murmured to myself.

“They would,” said a voice behind me.

I turned to see a boy, a Middling child whose dark head barely reached my shoulder. His light eyes looked up into mine, then flicked left. I followed his gaze to see two young men approaching the stall.

High Kith. One wore close-fitting trousers in Elysium crimson; the other’s hand flashed with a large emerald ring. Though I was far away, I could tell that his ear glinted with more jewels, and his black hair gleamed with intricate braids. Even if the men’s dress hadn’t marked their kith, their expressions would have made it obvious: the dreamy disdain as they made their way through the Middling crowd, the manner in which people stepped to the side to let them pass, as though each person in the crowd were a pleat on a fan rapidly folded. Faded amusement floated across the expressions of the High-Kith men.

“You’re staring.” The boy laughed.

“They would never buy a nightmare.”

“Of course they would. When your life is filled with pleasure, a brush with danger is fun.”

I thought about Sid treating imprisonment as a fascinating adventure. “Maybe you’re right. What would you buy?”

He squinted one eye. “Middlings can’t buy magic.”

“But if you could.” I said it quickly, so that he wouldn’t think I didn’t already know that.

He shrugged. “It is as it is.” But his face was hard with dissatisfaction.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said, and described Sid.

He rubbed his chin, a little exaggerated in the gesture. He probably knew full well that acting like an old man was charming in one so young. “And what kind of dream would she buy?”

I huffed. “Her most deeply held desire.” Then I thought again. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past her to drink a nightmare and desire at the same time.”

“Why do you want to find someone like that?”

I bristled. “You’re a little young to be so nosy. Shouldn’t you be in bed at this hour?”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the wall?”