The Shopkeeper Knows Too Much

Katherine wove through the bustling marketplace, dodging a cart piled high with fruit and narrowly avoiding a merchant enthusiastically waving a silk scarf. The air was thick with the scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread, but her focus was elsewhere. She was heading to Elseid—the strange little shop she had visited with Menalipo.

That visit had stuck with her, mostly because of something Zamir had said. His words had curled up in the back of her mind and refused to leave, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

She had told herself she wasn't that curious. And yet… here she was.

As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and aged leather greeted her. The shop was exactly as she remembered—filled to the brim with trinkets, odd machines, and things that looked like they belonged in a treasure hunter's collection. If magic had a smell, she imagined it would be something like this.

Her gaze landed on a table in the back, where tiny mechanical toys were on display. Little metal figures whirred and spun, their delicate gears clicking in a hypnotic rhythm. Katherine leaned in, watching one that moved like a tiny clockwork bird.

Her lips quirked up. "Well, aren't you fancy?" she murmured, resisting the urge to poke it.

But as she studied them, something nagged at her. The way they moved, the way they were built—it reminded her of something from home. Not exactly the same, but close enough that her mind latched onto it.

Wait. That didn't make sense.

Before she could dwell on it, a voice cut through her thoughts.

"Those were made by people like you."

Katherine jumped—just a little—before turning to find Zamir watching her. He stood as calmly as ever, arms folded, his sharp eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

She blinked at him, then pointed at herself. "People like me? What, people who stare at mechanical birds for too long?"

Zamir's lips twitched in amusement. "People who notice things others don't."

That was… cryptic.

Her curiosity sharpened. "Zamir… are you like me?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

He studied her, his expression giving away nothing. "That depends. What do you mean?"

Katherine crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her sleeve. "These machines… they remind me of things from my world. Not exactly, but close. And I'd really like to know why that is before my brain decides to explode from all the questions I have."

Zamir gave a small, knowing smile. "Things aren't so different here," he said. "Not as much as you think."

She huffed. "That's not an answer."

"It is," he countered. "You just don't see it yet."

Katherine narrowed her eyes at him. She had the distinct feeling that talking to Zamir was like trying to get a straight answer out of a particularly smug cat.

"Okay," she tried again. "So why do things like this exist here?"

He took a slow step closer, lowering his voice. "Because," he said, "you're more connected to this place than you realize. These things don't seem strange to you because people like you have come here before. Maybe you're only now starting to notice the threads that tie everything together."

Katherine's stomach did a weird little flip. That sounded important.

"Wait, wait—others like me? How many? Where are they? Are we talking one or two, or like… a secret society? Is there a club? Do we get matching cloaks?"

Zamir let out a quiet chuckle. "Yes," he answered, but there was something evasive in his tone. "As for where they are… well, that's for you to figure out. For now, just keep your eyes open. There's more to this world than what you see in front of you."

Katherine groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Why do you talk like you're a prophecy wrapped in a mystery?"

"You'll understand in time."

"Ugh, of course I will," she muttered.

Her gaze flickered back to the tiny mechanical toys, still clicking and whirring. She knew, deep down, that they were part of something bigger—something she was just beginning to unravel.

She sighed, looking back at Zamir. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But thanks, I guess."

Zamir dipped his head slightly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Take your time. The answers will be there when you're ready to see them."

Katherine lingered in the shop for a moment, her thoughts spinning faster than the gears on the tiny bird.

One thing was for sure—Zamir wasn't just a shopkeeper.

There was more to him. More to this place.

And she was definitely going to figure it out.

***

Katherine made her way back to the old lady's stall, eager to get some more of the fresh bread and cheese. The smell of the baked goods was comforting, reminding her of simpler times. As she approached, the woman greeted her warmly.

"Back again?" the old lady teased, her eyes twinkling. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were addicted to my bread."

Katherine laughed. "I think I might be."

As she selected her bread and cheese, she handed over the coins and asked, "I've been wondering... how do you get your ingredients? Do you grow them yourself?"

The old lady smiled, clearly pleased by the question. "Ah, well, some of it comes from my garden, especially the herbs I use in the bread," she explained. "But for the rest—like the cheese—I rely on my husband. He's a merchant and travels to the countryside for the best ingredients. He knows the right farmers to trade with."

Katherine's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, you get your supplies from different places through him?"

The kind lady nodded. "Exactly. It's all about finding reliable sources, and my husband's trade connections help keep the quality high. Without him, I couldn't offer what I do here."

"It sounds like a lot of work, but it must be rewarding to have such good ingredients to work with."

"It is," the woman agreed with a smile. "Quality ingredients are the foundation of a good business, and we've been lucky to find the right suppliers."

At that moment, a mischievous boy dashed past, nearly knocking over a stack of bread loaves. Katherine reached out instinctively, catching the top loaf before it tumbled.

"Whoa there!" she called, grinning as the boy turned back, sticking his tongue out before vanishing into the crowd.

The old lady chuckled. "That's Timmy. Always running around, causing trouble."

Katherine smirked. "I like his spirit. But maybe next time, I'll set up a bread-catching station."

The woman laughed. "You'll need quick hands for that, my dear."

As Katherine took her bread and cheese, feeling the warmth of the marketplace's lively energy, she couldn't help but think—maybe this world wasn't so different from hers after all.