After turning the corner of a narrow alley, Martha entered a lively street that had been empty when she had passed through it that morning.
Perfectly at ease in the crowd, she began weaving between passersby, picking the pockets of the inattentive as she went.
Once out of the crowd, she counted her meager loot: three large bronze coins enough to buy three apples or one skewer from Randolph, barely enough to eat.
So Martha decided to steal an apple from a stall and buy a skewer from Randolph out of consideration for him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow. When she turned her head, it slipped away into the corner of an alley.
Detecting no immediate danger, Martha decided to continue on her way and rejoin the crowd in search of a stall where it would be easy to steal an apple.
A shadow followed in her wake.
She headed toward the part of the market where the food stalls were gathered. As she glanced at the stands to see what might interest her, she noticed a pendant of strange shape, yet oddly familiar.
"Sir, what is this pendant?" Martha asked, pointing to it.
"Well, young man, don't you even recognize the beast that represents our country?"
Martha tilted her head in confusion, clearly showing her surprise and inability to answer. Seeing her bewildered expression, the vendor asked another question.
"Didn't your parents teach you this, young man?"
"I'm an orphan. I don't know my father, and my mother abandoned me," she said, putting on her best pitiful face.
"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't know. You've had bad luck with your parents, young lady. Wait—are you a girl?!" He burst into laughter. "Not only did I upset you by mentioning your parents, but I even mistook you for a boy. I'm truly sorry."
"It's okay, sir."
"No, clearly it's not. How about I make it up to you by giving you this necklace you seemed so interested in?" he said, taking the pendant and holding it out to her.
"Really? You won't go back on your word—giving is giving, taking back is stealing!"
"Hahaha! Judging by that bright smile, it seems I've been forgiven. And I won't take it back; otherwise I wouldn't have offered it."
"Thank you, sir," Martha said before leaving, slipping the necklace around her neck and hiding it beneath her clothes.
"Wait, young lady. A piece of advice—if you don't want people mistaking you for a boy, you should act a little more like a girl your age."
"And how do you do that?"
"Well, for starters, you could change the way you speak. A young girl should speak more refinedly."
"And how do you do that?"
"First, stop saying 'well' and 'sir' all the time. That would be a good start. Then I suggest you talk with girls your age—you'll see how they speak."
"Got it, sir. But if people take me for a boy and then realize I'm a girl, will they give me gifts like you did?"
"Hahaha! Don't count on it, young lady. Most people aren't as kind as I am."
"Alright, sir. Goodbye!" Martha said, running off.
"Hahaha! See, when you want to, you can do it. Goodbye, young lady!"
After this little adventure, Martha continued toward the food section of the market.
At midday, the crowd grew denser the closer she got, and she had to watch her step to avoid being crushed.
After fifteen minutes spent pushing through the packed throng, she finally reached the fruit and vegetable section. She climbed onto some crates to get a better view of the stalls, searching for one that wasn't closely watched and from which she could easily escape after her theft.
After several minutes, she found one. She climbed down and headed toward it, pulling her coat hood low over her head so she wouldn't be recognized.
A few meters from the stall, she glanced around, then dashed forward, snatched an apple in passing, and ran.
Hearing people shout behind her, she assumed the vendor was chasing her and kept running. After several minutes of pursuit, surprised that her pursuer hadn't caught up, she looked back and realized he was no vendor at all, but rather a beggar. Confused, she stopped.
Her pursuer, noticing her gaze, melted back into the crowd. Martha had seen those clothes somewhere before, though she couldn't remember where. So she devised a trap for him.
She resumed running, this time toward the lower districts. Upon reaching the dark, narrow alleys, she darted inside and hid around a corner. Grabbing a plank, she waited for her pursuer, who soon arrived.
With a violent blow to his legs, Martha sent him sprawling face-first into the muddy ground.
"Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"
"Who are you? Why are you following me?" Martha demanded, grabbing his clothes.
"Martha? It's me, Martha."
"Victor? Is that you?" she said, pulling back his hood.
"Yes, it's me. See? You can let me go now."
"Why are you following me, Victor?"
"I was scared, Martha—afraid that the ones who want to hurt me would find me. So I followed you. You can let me go now, please."
"Now you're going to tell me the real reason. Why are you following me, Victor?" Martha said, sliding her dagger beneath his throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Alright, alright, I'll tell you everything. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me."
"Speak."
"It was Pedro. He told me to watch you and to stop you from going back home."
"Why? Speak! Answer me!"