Thirty minutes later, I was facing the dankest, shadiest place I have ever seen in my life.
In the middle of the street, thirty floors beneath Paarjo's surface, a narrow alley stretched into darkness. Boxes covered in opaque fabrics occupied it every few meters, preventing anyone from seeing the other side. Strings connected the two walls, from which silk-looking pieces of fabric hung, further impeding visibility.
A Tigea wearing dark leather garments was leaning against the wall next to the entrance, flipping a gold coin every few seconds. He kept his eyes on the coin, never taking as much as a glance in our direction.
It looked like a druglord's hideout from a movie set in South America.
I nudged Bonte with my elbow. "Are you sure we're in the right place?" I whispered.
The catboy nodded. "This is a Scout-exclusive market," he replied with pride. "The atmosphere is top notch."
I felt my eyebrows rise on their own. "Right," I muttered.
Bonte took off and approached the Tigea.
