"A curse?" Monas repeated. Much to Tan's surprise, he sounded more impressed than horrified. "You must be quite the apprentice. Of which curse do you speak?"

"I don't know its name," Tan told him. "I dabbled in kuzoroism too advanced for me and now pay the price for being a fool." He lowered his voice just short of a whisper. "The skin on my chest has become ... abnormal. It's mottled, tinged with a sickly grey, flaky. Sore. The chafing against my robes has begun to draw blood."

"Ah. Has it spread?"

"Steadily at first, though when I awoke this morning I noticed it has reached my neck. It's only a matter of days before I'm no longer able to hide it. I'd hoped it would vanish by now, though it seems -"

"May I see this? It sounds like no curse I'm familiar with."

"Take my word, Monas; I've no time to waste exhibiting my embarrassment any further. I suppose a man who is as highly spoken of as yourself has a remedy just as potent as the curse I've laid."

"Then you supposed impeccably. I can think of two options and you won't like the taste or price of either." Monas raised his forefinger. "The first will merely halt the spread of the affliction and ease your discomfort, though your skin may remain somewhat discoloured, at least, depending on the exact nature of the curse you casted. By the sounds of things you're lucky to still be walking and talking. You can expect a week's worth to cost only thirty marakgel, twenty for a charming little kuzorocari like yourself, but this remedy will never rid you of the condition, only keep it at bay. Weekly dosages build up cost, so from one foreigner to another - don't be surprised; your Farban accent is atrocious - I suggest you consider my other offer. The second remedy will cure you, I promise. Two months and not a day longer. But ..."

The merchant twitched his gold-ringed nose and Tan leant in, closing the gap between them. "But? Come on, out with it, Monas."

"But, as wonderful as my creation is, it has some undesirable side-effects. Tension headaches, hypersomnia, a noticeable decline in libido ... Though that nasty curse you afflicted yourself with will be no more, and nobody in your order will be any the wiser. Except perhaps your partner."

"By the deities' cruel will, it seems my Shara has eyes for another."

"Perfect. What do you say?"

"Your price for the latter?"

"Seven thousand marakgel."

Tan almost choked.

Seven thousand Farban marakgel would be enough to buy a pure-bred warhorse. "Maedhros' name," he said, "you didn't lie when you said your wares are pricey. I'm only an apprentice, my friend. I'm new to the Order and earn little in the way of coin. Between you and me, clients seldom request the services of a venomancer. How much money do you seem to think I make conjuring preventative anti-venoms for paranoid Farban aristocrats? The cheaper one will do until I can put my earnings aside for the other."

"Six thousand marakgel, for my young Fen. You can't say fairer than that."

"I'm not here to haggle; I'm here because I didn't want the fuss. The other, if you don't mind listening."

"Five thousand and five hundred. You will not find this offer at any other stall."

"No, I said -"

"Five thousand and two hundred."

"That's three months' wages!"

"Five thousand. Four thousand. And that's final."

"Stop! Stop. Four thousand, you say? I suppose I'd be even more of a fool to refuse that kind of generosity."

"Thank you. So will you oblige me?"

"Fine, I accept."

"My humblest pleasure," said Monas, satisfied. He smiled and turned, disappearing behind a fuchsia-pink curtain at the rear of the canopied stall. Tan caught a glimpse of hundreds of glass jars, ranging from the size of his thumb to dozens of times bigger, stacked on shelves out of view and clearly labelled in foreign characters. He glanced over at the other dark-skinned salesman, hunched over with a hanging belly, as he spoke in broken Farban to the lady in red. Tan sidled over and she withdrew her arm into her bosom, turning her shoulder to him.

"Bad is it?" he said, mustering a smirk. "My older brother is a healer. Got one of those smiles to make the ladies' hearts race. I bet he could put you right for a small favour."

The Ruiçon approached with unwelcome defensiveness. "Move away," he boomed. His voice sounded so deep Tan could feel it in his diaphragm. "Move away, kuzorocari."

Tan shrugged. "You High Farbans wouldn't know humour if it bit you on the nose. Business in the Order is dwindling; you can't blame me for trying a new stance." In truth he enjoyed playing the part of Fen Kithvas the sickly sorcerer, though was probably not far wrong about his brother.

He slid back to his spot as Monas emerged from behind the curtain with a jar of golden powder. "That was prompt of you," Tan told him, knowing his sarcasm would go undetected.

"There's a reason our stall must come recommended, and that is customer satisfaction." Monas set the jar on the counter with a thud and the glass chimed. "Quality glass for an outstanding product. Expect nothing less from Monas and Toucomsens. This here is enough for eight weeks' dosage and find one superior you will not. Five thousand marakgel for eight weeks, Fen Kithvas, and you'll be ailed no more. I promise you."

"You mean four thousand," Tan corrected.

"Is that so? You really are sharper than you look. I'll write you a receipt of purchase. What is your preferred tongue, sir? I can't seem to place your accent."

"Wait a minute." Tan thrust out his chin cockily. "I want to sample it."

Monas shook his head and the tassels on his headwear flailed. "I like you, boy, but you should not push your luck."

"Then I won't buy it unless I can sample it."

"Not possible."

"Then you've lost a sale. You see," - his gaze dropped to his feet - "it pays to be cautious of false potions when you're a fool of an apprentice like me. Maedhros' name, I've been reminded of it often enough. I also recall hearing you abide by similar precepts when assessing customers before purchase. You put me on the spot, that's for sure. If I were not to sample an unfamiliar remedy then I can't have learnt well from my tutors in venomancy. I wish to sample it, and if you care for your reputation as I care for my wellbeing, you'll allow me."

The Ruiçon fidgeted. "It's highly irregular -"

"Monas, I'm in a rush. Let us be quick about this."

"If you insist. But you will sample it right here where I can keep an eye on you. This remedy takes years to perfect, and after those blood-thirsty beasts attacked I'm finding more people yearn for a cure than ever. Especially off famous Ilimaco."

"Fine. You have something for me to drink this with, I presume?" The merchant produced a flask of water, spooned a small amount of powder and sprinkled it in. The suspension thickened into a paste the colour of murky brass and Tan wondered what was really in it. Chikjoram, foxglove and the local white willow bark if he'd picked up anything from the black market. Or perhaps Monas was the real deal. The vendor swirled it and handed it to Tan with swelling pride. Tan pulled away the silks from his face, tipped back his head and gulped the entire beaker in one, regretting it as its coarse saltiness raked at his throat. He wiped his lips on his sleeve and the inside of his mouth felt dry and tacky. Yech.

"The whole jar for four thousand hard-earned marakgel?"

"Yes," nodded Monas.

"For an off-yellow powder that looks and tastes so much like sand? I could have dug this up myself seven paces from the gates. I expected better."

A vein in Monas' temple pulsed. "I assure you, sir, I have been in this business for twenty-seven years and received nothing but praise for my talents as a master of potionlore. I've cured entire villages of plagues; I've banished rot and rid them of shuth fever. Why, I even saved the life of the only son of a Rakhai nobleman and earned his lifelong gratitude. Dear Fen, my accomplishments are not to be insulted."

Tan flashed him his most endearing smile. "Of course. So, what colour is your other remedy?"

"Green."

"Then for now I'll buy eight weeks' worth of the other. I like the sound of that better."

"Not possible," Monas repeated.

"Pardon?"

"Darling boy, do you forget that we've agreed on a sale?"

"Did we indeed? I agreed on your offer and nothing more. You're telling me it's not possible for me to spend 160 marakgel when you wish me to spend thousands? Whose choice is it here? I've changed my mind and hasten to sample your green remedy too, fetch me that. And a new flask of water." Click click.

"My pleasure," Monas said through his teeth, and disappeared with a sharp flap of fuchsia.

By the time he returned with the green remedy, Tan had shrunk back into the crowd like a cat. Golden jar and all.