Sairis's POV
Sairis knew the market well enough to move through it without thinking too hard about direction.
His feet remembered the path even when his mind was elsewhere, turning left past the spice vendors, cutting through the narrow gap between the leather stall and the woman who sold dried flowers, following the covered walkway that ran along the back of the main row until the shops began.
He had walked this route more times than he could count. Back when walking it had been entirely ordinary, just a man going to buy what he needed without anyone looking twice.
That was not today.
But he pushed the thought aside and followed the path until the familiar stall came into view.
It was larger than the surrounding ones, with a proper wooden front and bolts of fabric stacked neatly in the window and a hand-painted sign above the door that read Cheryl's in uneven but cheerful letters.
