As they walk towards the staring crowd, it parts to allow them passage, a corridor of people and creatures from her wildest dreams and beyond.
As they pass, some in the crowd nod their heads or tug at hat brims. A few mumble “M'lady,” under their breath, as if afraid to speak to her. A young girl covered with scales curtsies low, smiling.
Fiona approaches a stall piled high with bell jars and boxes. In one jar a spider glowing gently, in another an emerald ring, in a long thin box there's a walking can, in another a syringe, and everywhere there's all manner of brightly coloured fabric.
