The vegetables were far from moldy. I didn’t come to the produce market often myself—my interactions with food tended to begin when it arrived prepared at my table—but the lush greens and vibrant reds of the bounty around me shone bright as precious jewels. Scents of peach and fig teased me, and the calls of the merchants made a lively music. The Temple of Bounty loomed benevolently over the square, its columns carved with fruit and flowers; shrinekeepers passed out the merchants’ leftover grain and bruised fruit to the poor on its steps.

I had to make this work, no matter how grumpy Zaira was. I had no doubt my mother and the doge would both receive reports of this outing.

“I did ask the lieutenant if we could go find this ragpicker of yours.” I glanced at Marcello, who hovered a few paces away. His eyes shifted from me to Zaira. He’d been watching us closely all morning. “He felt we should start with something simpler.”

Zaira snorted. “You mean he thinks that if we go to the Tallows, I’ll knife you both and dump you in a canal.”

“Well, perhaps.”

“I notice you didn’t have any trouble overruling him when he asked you to wear a uniform.” The black ring around her pupils made Zaira’s stare even more pointed.

I glanced down at the golden falcon’s-head brooch pinned to my shoulder, the only concession I’d allowed poor Marcello. “On that question, my mother was his invisible opponent. In the matter of the ragpicker, she was his invisible ally.”

Zaira lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Your mother can turn invisible, now?”

“Of course not! I meant—”

“I know what you meant. You meant you’ve got jelly for a spine and always do what your mamma says.” She jerked her head at Marcello. “And Lieutenant Black Eye over there isn’t any better.”

“That’s not true!” I almost added, If you met my mother, you’d understand. But she might take it as an invitation, and I wasn’t sure I could survive those two in the same room.

Zaira turned away from the fruit stand, boredom in the slouch of her shoulders. “Of course it’s true. Or we’d be in the Tallows right now, talking to the ragpicker. Come on, I see someone selling meat on a stick.”

Forcing my annoyed frown smooth, I stepped up beside her so I wasn’t left trailing behind like a servant. Marcello moved in to walk at her other side. When Zaira picked out three hot skewers of chicken and mushrooms, Marcello paid for them from a purse embroidered with the winged horse of Raverra.