The air reeked with the mingled stinks of cooking cabbage, wood smoke, privies and slop jars dumped into the street. It would be worse come summer, when the heat thickened the air into a dangerous soup that gave babies the croup and set old people coughing up blood.

At Southbridge Market, Han managed to unload the snag-wort for a decent price, considering it was worthless. He could’ve sold it at Ragmarket, but didn’t want to risk it so close to home, where someone might remember him.

Leaving the market, he put on his street face and strode quickly and purposefully past the fancy girls and grifters and street-corner thugs that would be on you at any sign of weakness or fear. “Hey, boy,” a woman called, and he ignored her, as he ignored the glittery nobleman who tried to entice him into an alley.

Southbridge was the infection that festered under the seemingly healthy skin of the city. You didn’t go there at night unless you were big and well armed, and surrounded by big, well-armed friends. But daytime was safe if you used your head and kept aware of your surroundings. He wanted to clear Southbridge before it got dark.

To be fair, some might call Han’s own neighborhood a dangersome place. But in Ragmarket he knew who to watch out for and where they stayed. He only needed a few steps on anyone to disappear into the labyrinth of streets and alleys he knew so well. No one would find him in Ragmarket if he didn’t want to be found.

His destination was The Keg and Crown, a decrepit tavern that clung like a mussel to the river’s edge. The bank underneath had been undercut by centuries of spring floods, and it always seemed in imminent danger of tipping into the river. His timing was good—the common room was just filling up with the evening trade. He’d be out of the way before things got too rowdy.

Han handed Lucius’s bottles to Matieu, the tavern keeper, and received a heavy purse in return.

Matieu stowed the bottles in the back bar, out of reach of his more aggressive customers. “Is that all you have? I’ll have this lot sold in a day. Goes down smooth as water, it does.”

“Have a heart. I can only carry so much, you know,” Han said, pulling a pitiful face and working his aching shoulders with his fingers.

Every tavern in Fellsmarch clamored for Lucius’s trade. Lucius could triple his production and sell it all, but he chose not to.

Matieu eyed him speculatively, then groped under his massive belly for his purse. Extracting a coin, he pressed it into Han’s hand, closing his fingers over it. A princess coin, by the shape and weight of it, called a “girlie” on the street. “Maybe you could speak to him. Convince him to send more bottles my way.”