Voices swell and soft chatter rounds the broad, rich plaza of deep-sea coral and black basalt that opens ahead of them. A market by all accounts.

Umin sinks ever deeper into his enfoldings. A secretive beetle seeking succor in folds of drapery.   

Pyrite and lesser gemstones gleam beneath their feet in the tepid link-light. Alabaster lanterns that leak a niveous and smoky illumination across the square.  

Sentries, in the muted livery and voluminous silken garb of Meshmin stand placidly observing the purposefully milling hurly-burly. 

Their long-faced and hooked-beak masks, hidden eyes inscrutable, drifting over the sparse crowd.  

Water-sellers call, their brass and pewter cups clicking and dull.

Merchants hawk mushrooms, pale lower-sea fish and curious fruits.

Flesh-lenders drift along the edges, parlaying copper and silver into a passing, momentary sweetness.

A rather common marketplace then, thinks Umin, as they move through the meandering shopkeepers and custom.