Dawn came thin, the market still wet from a night that held off the storm. The canvas smelled of boiled starch and old rain. I set the board, rubbed the chalk in a neat line under the names already there... Moon Salt Rice, Fire Crisp Dumplings, River Herb Broth, Smoke Pepper Flatbread, Garden Pickle Bowl, Smoke-Braised River Fish. The letters read like a list of small promises.
Today's new name sat in my head before I picked up the chalk.
Guide Leaf Tea.
> ★ [Kitchen Ledger] Daily Dish Boon (Stall Arc, 1★ cap)
New Dish: Guide Leaf Tea (1★)
Boon: Right Path (1★ · 1 hr) — clearer judgment for small choices, fewer second guesses; paid cups only.
Limit: effect fades if the drinker lies, shouts, or forces choices on others.
The tea leaves were a thin green with a silver edge. I'd traded for them with a spice runner two nights back... a small pouch for a jar of Moon Salt. He'd smiled like he'd made a quiet profit and said nothing more. That was the kind of trade I preferred: clean, honest, quick.
Water to just off boil. Leaves in the pot. Lid on, three breaths, lid off. The steam smelled like river herbs with a hint of cool stone. I poured a small sample into a cup and lifted it to my mouth. It steadied my thoughts the way a clean breath steadies a hand.
Shen came first, the dock runner who'd had the fish yesterday. He slapped a coin on the counter and pointed at the board. "Guide Leaf," he said. "I need a head that holds up."
"You pay fair," I said. He always did.
I slid the cup to him. He drank slow. The effect set like a small tide... not a flood, not a revelation, just enough room to put a thought on the shelf and reach for it later. His jaw unclenched. "I'll reverse the route for that shipment," he said. "Less risk for the men."
"Good," I said. "Good for them."
The morning stitched itself in the usual way... a woman with paint on her sleeves for Crown Rice, a watch pair sharing Mint Tea while they checked the day's rounds, the print boy with ink on his thumb who'd promised to bring back the milk jugs he'd inspected earlier. People moved in and out of the tiny cloud the tea made, each cup giving a small, private nudge that mattered to the drinker.
Half an hour in, a cart rolled past with a banner I did not expect. Two stalls down, a new vendor... one of those glossy-faced men who sold the idea of cheaper spices... had set out samples, free to try. He laughed too loud and handed flaky bread to anyone who reached.
A soft thing in markets, free samples. A sharp thing, too, when men used them to pull a line apart. The vendor's name was Kade's cousin, a man with a grin that could smooth out a coin's guilt. I glanced at him across the lane. He tossed a sample to a man who had been leaning toward my counter for Moon Salt. The man took it and looked between the bread and my sign.
I kept my face the same. Coin Law was a quiet muscle. If the seam along the counter hummed, I would know what the coin was thinking. The seam stayed cool. People who came to me did not come for a free taste. They came because the board kept its word.
Then the River Office man returned.
He walked under my canvas with a step like someone who keeps his distance from needless noise. He had the same badge as the man who'd eaten the smoked fish, but today there was a second person with him... a woman in a plain dark coat, hair tucked back, eyes like someone who measured things by their edges. She carried a small folded paper, the sort you saw couriers use for private notes.
"Morning," the River man said. "We liked the quiet yesterday."
"Quiet's cheap when you pay for it fair," I said.
He smiled without teeth. "We pay. We also watch what grows near it." He looked at the board. "Guide Leaf. New."
"It helps small choices," I said. "Paid cups only."
She drank the tea without fuss, eyes closed for the first small swallow. When she opened them, the set around her softened. She folded the small paper and set it on the counter, face down, like a challenge politely given.
"You should know," she said, "the Guild is holding informal tastings in the outer square next week. They're looking for new methods. They'll be asking about wares and measures." Her voice did not hunt for advertisement; it merely stated fact.
"Tastings?" I asked.
"We'll be there, watching," she said. "If a stall draws attention, it will not be only from us."
She left the note on the wood and walked away. The River man stayed to finish his cup, paid, and left without fanfare.
The note felt heavier than its paper. I left it face down until the cup steam had cleared the wood. When I flipped it, a neat sentence waited, no flourish, no demand: Informal Tasting, Outer Square, Seventh Day, noon. Bring a plate worth noting. Pay fair or not at all.
People who have been in markets long enough know the gilt of a guild invitation is a weight both good and bad. Good because attention brings customers and coin. Bad because attention brings new measures. And measures often bend toward rules men do not choose.
By midday, the free-sample man's voice had worked its way through half the lane. A few folk drifted off the board to take a free taste, then drifted back, deciding they preferred the steadiness of paid work. The man with the free bread had made a small trouble, but nothing that would break the street. The Oath Bowl kept tempers tied. The Coin Law kept hands true.
Still, the guild note put a seed in the air. I wrapped the remaining tea leaves in cloth and set them in the Moon Salt jar for tomorrow's small uses. I kept a steady hand and the bell kept its clear note.
Late in the afternoon, Kade's cousin made his way across the lane. He put a coin down like it was a dare. "Try one on me," he said. "If your tea says I'm honest, I'll eat my words." He smiled as if he believed his own question.
"Pay fair," I said.
He paid. The seam warmed to true metal. I poured a cup and handed it to him. He sipped, thought, and then his face changed like someone finding a coin he did not know he'd lost. For a beat, he seemed human-sized, not a grin with legs. He set the cup down carefully.
"You got something," he said, not making a joke of it. He left more curious than he'd arrived, and curiosity in the market is better than some kinds of profit.
The day leaned toward close and the sky pressed low. A storm promised itself beyond the hills. The River Office man's note kept sitting in the corner of my counter like a small stone I wore in my pocket. I wrote down the date and time in my head... Seventh Day, noon... and I considered what a plate worth noting would be.
Some stalls would bring gilded shows, plated to look like a lord's table. Some would bring fermented miracles that made mouths sing. I could not do those things. I had a kettle, a seam, and a small red seal that listened. What I did have was a ledger that liked honest coin and honest action.
So I made a plan for the plate I would take: no vanity, no show. A dish that did what the stall did best... feed a person honestly, then let the ledger speak for it. Maybe a bowl of Crown Rice with Moon Salt and a ribbon of the smoke-braised fish, a small wedge of flatbread, and a cup of Guide Leaf to close it. A humble set, true to how I ran my day.
Before I closed, a boy with chalk on his fingers visited the stall. He kept his hands behind his back like always and leaned in. "Are you going?" he asked.
"If I'm invited, yes," I said.
He looked at the board, reading the names like a prayer. "Bring something that's not show," he said. "Bring what you cook for people who come after the boats."
I had the rest of the night to think. The storm came at the edges of town, not full force, washing the lane clean but not washing away the thought in my head. I chalked the board again, under the menu's last line.
PAY FAIR.
The note from the River Office sat folded by the Moon Salt jar. I wrapped my Guide Leaf cloth and placed the leaves in a small pouch for tomorrow's first cup. I set out an extra cup on the counter as if it could hold the day's quiet.
When I turned the lamp down and closed the canvas, the lane smelled of river, tea, and the news that a square would be full of judges in a week's time. The ledger likes to watch. I will be ready.
> ★ [Kitchen Ledger] Reminder: Informal Tasting, Outer Square, Seventh Day, noon. Observe, record, refine. Paid entries only.
Next: L6. Milestone visible; Door Line target remains.
Bowls served 9998. 2 more for second star.