Nyx
Nyx paid for the meal before she asked about the market.
The stallkeeper counted the coins, put a little more rice into the bowl and nodded toward the covered passage behind him.
"Sable's receiving clerk is there until the last delivery."
"Same entrance?"
"Unless somebody has offended him since lunch."
She ate standing where she could see the passage. Nobody followed her from the public stop. A porter glanced at the weapon beneath her coat, decided he had no reason to be interested and returned to arguing about a damaged crate.
The evening was paid work. That fact was worth keeping clear.
Cedric wanted a fitting, a price and enough information to decide whether to make a later visit. He had not hired every hour she might spend outside the academy. He had not asked her to swear that she would stay beside him if the market became dangerous.
