The square opened on a market that didn't shout. Tables with ledgers instead of baskets,scales,lockboxes. Buyers with quiet voices and heavy sleeves. Melchior guided us through without making it look like he was guiding us. People saw him and chose to not see him and that told me enough.
"You're still following," I said.
"Observing," he corrected. "Sometimes I step between people and holes so the game lasts longer."
"And sometimes you open the hole," Rhea said.
He didn't deny it. "If the board needs it."
"Do you always talk like that," I asked.
"Only when I've been awake too long," he said, then he flicked a look at Alma. "And when something new walks out of a charm and changes the morning."
Alma kept her eyes on the street. "Talk less."
He did,for a full block.
