I looked around, in fear of seeing my mother, my father or even worse, Lady Olive. It had been quite an ordeal to leave the house unnoticed, and I prayed it would be worth it. The vendor hadn’t left his spot. He was twirling the end of his pointy beard in his left hand, which was covered in a white glove, with a ring on top. Why someone would wear gloves in this weather was beyond me.

“My lady, I was wondering if you would dare to cross this street.”

If anyone else had made this remark, I would have responded by saying that they were in no place to question my actions or my word, but the twinkle in his eyes made me bite my tongue and settle for a frown.

“There is no need to look so disapprovingly at me. Especially when I am sacrificing my time to show you this treasure.”

“However, it is not something that can be just shown is it?” I said, vexed at his silly behaviour.

“You are quite right. A song this beautiful must not only be heard, but felt.”

Without warning, he opened the medallion again, flashes of gold appearing before my eyes. The instruments played in my ear delicately, their sounds as thin as goldthread. I was overwhelmed by the idea that, if I would lose concentration only for a second, their sounds would disappear.

That was, until the voice inside the medallion sang to me again. It was a very comforting voice, very high, but without being shrill. I was overcome by a sense of familiarity.

The medallion was closed all too soon. And my gaze was met by a grinning market trader.

“So you really can hear it” he said, again twirling the end of his beard. 

He was a few years older than me, but he could definitely be considered a young man. A very shady young man, that is.

“Is that so very unusual?”

“Oh it is, madam. You see, I usually amuse myself by showing this medallion to strangers who are too curious for their own good, such as yourself. Their confusion is a nice addition to the dullness of a day. However, I never met someone who can actually hear the song inside the medallion, until I met you.”

“Why can’t others hear this song?” I asked, remembering Lady Olive’s confused reaction. This couldn’t be just a trick of his, could it?

“It belongs to a place where very few people have set foot,” he said, as he hung the medallion around his neck again, and started to remove the glass jewels from his market stall.

“What kind of place? And will you face me when you are speaking to me?” 

He stopped removing the jewellery and looked at me, his face twisted in annoyance.

“I can clearly see that my behaviour is beneath you, not to mention your assumption of my social standing. However, you are standing in front of my market stall-” he made a gesture to the rather abandoned looking stall, “so I will behave as I please.”

I blushed, wanting to correct him. I wanted to say that my father could have him arrested for demeaning me so. But if I were to do that, my father would know I went out unchaperoned.

“Are we getting shy now?”

I sighed at his presumptuous behaviour.

“Not at all. I was just wondering what place you were referring to.”

A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes. And although it made me uncomfortable, it was suddenly very hard to look away.

“Would you like to see it.”

“It depends on what kind of place it is.”

What a liar I was. I did want to see it, although I didn’t understand why. A conman who wanted nothing more than to profit of the ignorance of the rich should have made me want to run back inside my home immediately.

“I cannot tell you that, you would not believe me. You will have to see it for yourself. If you are having second thoughts, I fear it is probably too late for that.”

I frowned, not believing a word he said. He didn’t look like the type of person who could fear anything at all. He wasn’t extraordinary tall or muscled, but his posture was straight, confident. Whether it was justified or not.

“I don’t believe it is too late for that,” I said, warily. 

I took a step backwards, because in the spur of our conversation, I hadn’t realised he had come to stand closer to me. What was he planning to do? My heart was racing. This was not good, why had I been so careless? I cursed myself when he suddenly had a dagger in his left hand. I tried to run away, but without any luck. My skirts were slowing me down, and before I knew it, the vendor had thrown an arm around my shoulder and chest. The ring on his left hand collided coldly with my neck, as he placed the dagger over it.

I let out a scream, knowing full well the windows of the whole neighbourhood were open. They would certainly recognise my voice. The vendor cursed as he covered my mouth with his hand. The fabric of his glove was soft. He wore three rings around his fingers.

As I remained struggling for freedom, I heard footsteps coming from several houses, including my own. The servants must have found out I was missing.

The vendor moved around for a bit, as if looking for something, before discovering a golden coloured marking for a well. My father had personally praised these markings many times, saying they were the finest touch of wealth in the neighbourhood.

My captor took his medallion, placed it in front of the well marking, and to my astonishment it opened, revealing a tiny ladder. Ignoring this, he removed the dagger, took me in his arms, and jumped right in.

I had never dared to imagine I could scream as loud as I did at that moment, but the well closed again, as if to hide my voice from the world above.