This entry is part 13 of 13 in the series Market of the Macabre

The city streets shimmered in the sun. An old man, draped in a dark cloak, marched along one of those streets. His head was hooded, obscuring most of his face. But that was alright. Most who visited the Market of the Macabre chose to veil themselves in one way or another.

The old man drew up to a booth along one side of the street. The owner of the booth was a young woman, arrayed in a full-length blue dress, her hair pinned up on top of her head. Unlike so many others, she chose not to hide her identity.

“How can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“I have wares for sale, and I was told that you in particular would be most interested in what I have to offer,” he replied.

“I might be,” she said. “What do you have that’s interesting?”

He reached into his robe and pulled out a small jar containing some kind of organ. “This,” he explained, “is the spleen from an angel. It’s fresh. I harvested it not two hours ago.”

“Okay,” she said. “That’s mildly interesting. What else do you have?”

Without missing a beat, he reached into his left sleeve and produced a long, white feather. “Do you understand what this is?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “You mean to tell me you harvested a cherubim?” She tried to hide the astonishment in her voice and failed. “Do you know the consequences if you get caught with these items?”

He nodded slowly. “Which is why I’m offering to offload them to you for a steal. I killed the damnable thing, and so I’m already marked. I want to get rid of these before I’m caught. You, at least, can hide them in your possession because they aren’t bound to you the way they are to me. Without these in my inventory, I at least have a chance for survival. If I’m caught with them, I’m as good as cursed.”

She stood quietly for several long moments, then said, “Is that all you have?”

He shook his head. “I have the angel’s diadem. It’s a spare little thing, and it is currently woven into my hair under my hood. Would you like to see it?”

She nodded hungrily. “Very much.”

He handed her the jar and the feather, then pulled back his hood. The crown was just there, on his head, and it sparkled like pure righteousness. He had it down in his hand within seconds, his hood pulled back in place.

“This is worth more than both the jar and the feather combined. It will purify your aura no matter what deeds you perform. It will heap blessings aplenty on you and help you gain favor with most of the gods.” He sighed. “And I can’t keep it because it won’t work that way for me. It’ll just be another condemnation of what I’ve done.”

“I understand,” she said. “I will take these items from you, and I’ll give you a fair price. You may even have time to spend it before they catch up with you.”

She took all three of the items from him then, and put them into a sack. Then she produced a pouch heavy with coin and handed it to him. “I think you’ll find this a fair trade,” she said.

He nodded and slipped the coin pouch into his robe. “Thank you, lady,” he said. “You’ve done me a great service. Good day.”

And with that he stepped back out into the street and disappeared into the crowd.

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