“Welcome to Deva, kid,” Aahz gestured expansively. “What do you think?”
“It’s loud.” I observed.
“What?”
“I said, ‘it’s loud!’ ” I shouted.
“Oh, well. It’s a bit livelier than your average Farmer’s Market or Fisherman’s Wharf, but there are noisier places to be.”
I was about to respond when a passerby careened into me. He, or she, had eyes spaced all around his head and fur-covered tentacles instead of arms.
“Wzkip!” it said, waving a tentacle as it continued on its way.
“Aahz!”
“Yeah, kid?”
“It just occurred to me. What language do they speak on Deva?”
“Hmm? Oh! Don’t worry about it, kid. They speak all languages here. No Deveel that’s been hatched would let a sale get away just because they couldn’t speak the right tongue. Just drop a few sentences on ’em in Klahdish and they’ll adapt fast enough.”
“Okay, Aahz. Now that we’re here, where do we go first?”
There was no answer. I tore my eyes away from the Bazaar and glanced at my partner. He was standing motionless, sniffing the air.
“Aahz?”
“Hey kid, do you smell that?” he asked eagerly.
I sniffed the air.
“Yeah!” I gagged. “What died?”
“C’mon, kid. Follow me.”
He plunged off into the crowd, leaving me little choice but to trail after him. Hands plucked at our sleeves as we passed, and various Deveels leaned out of their stalls and tents to call to us as we passed, but Aahz didn’t slacken his pace. I couldn’t get a clear look at any of the displays as we passed. Keeping up with Aahz demanded most of my concentration. One tent, however, did catch my eye.