The next morning they clambered off the roof and wandered over to a market that had sprang up nearby.

'Anyone else feeling hungry?' Zoe said, strumming her mandolin, ‘If so I'll see if we can music up ourselves some breakfast.’

Zan nodded, ‘I wondered when we'd get a chance to duet.’ He winked at Sparrow, 'I'm sure that within an hour we'll have enough for a king's feast.'

A smile stretched Sparrow’s lips, ‘I'm not much help in the musical department but I guess I'm alright at being an audience.'

So Sparrow stood back and watch them do their thing. Zoe spread out Sparrow's cloak on the ground while Zan turned a broken clay pot into something that was half drum and half wine-glass. By rubbing the top he caused the instrument to emit all sorts of shimmering melodies. The beat and undertones of his broken pot served as a chorus for Zoe's finger picking.

Before either of them had uttered a word they were already drawing a crowd. Worming their way through the legs of the older people Sparrow saw small boys who had no doubt helped their families bring their produce to market. He remembered doing the same with his grandma and all his cousins - loading up a hired bull cart to take the season's freshest vegetables to a market two valleys over. He remembered his first taste of the dragon fruit his grandma had bought him when he convinced a merchant to take all of their produce for almost double what they usually sold it for.

And then Zoey began singing. Sparrow had heard her voice before, it was like a nightingale, but he'd always heard it when it was just the pair of them. Now her voice rang out across the market, turning heads, drawing feet and a clatter of copper coins which landed by her feet. As the crowd grew, Sparrow began stepping back. First, he stepped back for a miller's wife, so she could get a taste and the spectacle that was Zoe and Zan. Then he let a family of stallholders take his spot, then a group of soldiers elbowed their way through and eventually, Sparrow could no longer see Zan and Zoe at all. Even their music was slightly tainted by the murmur and whispers of the marketfolk around him.

'Well...' Sparrow said to no one in particular, '...I suppose if you need me, I'll be wandering the market.'

And that's what he did. He wandered along past stalls inhaling the spices that had traveled thousands of leagues to be enjoyed by his nose. It took him at least an hour to walk the market and in that time the crowd around Zoe and Zan had grown even larger. They must have a mountain of coins by now. Sparrow thought.

And that's when he stumbled upon a Tinker. The man had his back against a solid brick wall and a large floppy hat covering his head. Beside him were a donkey and a small cart chokka-full of anything anyone could even need.

The Tinker was singing under his breath.

‘Leaf to leaf, to place to go.

There’s one thing those on the road should know.

If your boots wear out, or your double chin starts to show

There’s one thing those on the road should know.

From glass blade, to map to Mongol bow

You only need to say the words - Tinker ho!’

'Tinker Ho!' Sparrow repeated approach approaching the man.

'And what are you looking for today young master?' the Tinker said.

'I'm looking for a conversation.'

‘Well,’ The Tinker smacked his lips, ‘That’s not something I hear every day. You sure you don’t want to buy something? Young guys are always wanting things. I’ll give you a good price.’

Sparrow shook his head, ‘My trouble is I’m travelling by foot. Anything I take will weigh me down.’

‘Well,’ the Tinker pulled out a glass wine bottle. Inside was a meadow and a bunch of grazing donkeys. At first, Sparrow thought they were toys, he’d heard of people putting sailing ships in bottle before. But a moment later he realised they were moving. The donkeys roamed about, grazing on grass, and taking drinks from a small lake that rippled as the Tinker turned the bottle.

‘That’s amazing… but what am I going to do with a miniature donkey?’ Sparrow said.

The Tinker grinned and flashed a small silver pair of tweezers, ‘The bottle’s bigger on the inside you see.’ He uncorked the bottle and peered into it, ‘Listen, which one do you want? You have to be sure you want it though, because the moment they’re out of the bottle they’re really hard to get back in.’

Sparrow held up his hands, ‘Please, I don’t want a donkey. If I get a donkey then I’m going to need some sort of saddlebags and harness to use for the donkey to carry my stuff. And then I’ll need grain for the donkey to eat when there’s no grass, and next thing I know i’ll need to get a job to earn the grain, and I’ll need a paddock to put the donkey when I’m working, and maybe then I’ll think, oh, I’ve got all this stuff I need for my job and my donkey and maybe I should just build a house. And then I’m trapped good and proper.’

The Tinker raised an eyebrow, ‘That’s an awful lot of assumptions there.’

Sparrow shrugged, ‘I just know how i’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I reckon the biggest mousetrap on this planet is getting comfortable.’

‘Well surely there must be something you want…’ The Tinker rubbed his beard, and then nodded, ‘Ah… yes I’ve got it.’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin, ‘Light, valuable, changes currency no matter where you are in the world.’ he passed the coin over, ‘here, take it.’

Sparrow held the coin. It seemed perfectly ordinary, ‘Thanks, but my friends are earning us more than enough with their music.’

The Tinker waved away Sparrow’s words like they smelt, ‘Just put it in your pocket, and take another.’ Sparrow took the next coin the Tinker offered, and the next one and the next one until his pockets were bulging.

‘If you have such an unlimited supply of money then why are you selling miniature donkeys on the street?’ Sparrow said after the Tinker handed him his 40th silver coin.

The Tinker shrugged. ‘I like meeting people, I like helping people, and I like travelling.’ He handed over yet another coin. Sparrow wondered why his pockets weren’t spilling over yet.

‘I used to be like you,’ the Tinker explained, ‘I was a quester, going around doing things that needed to be done, fighting dragons, trolls, saving kids and all that good stuff. But I guess you get a little tired of it after a while, you want something fresh.’

Sparrow nodded, took another coin and put it in his pocket.

‘Now.’ The Tinker said, ‘Look in your pocket.’

‘My pocket?’ Sparrow said, ‘Which one? They’re both full of coins?’

‘Either,’ The Tinker grinned.

Sparrow slipped his hand into his pocket, he could feel the rough woven fabric, the pieces of lint that rested in there, but not a single coin.

‘What the hell?’ Sparrow said, ‘What you do with them?’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ The Tinker took a silver coin from his pocket and rolled it through his fingers. ‘The coin came back on its own free will.’

‘You’re saying-’

‘Yeah. There was only ever one coin Sparrow. Every time you put it in you pocket it returned to me.’

Sparrow pulls out the lining of his pockets, ‘but… but even though I can see it’s empty it still feels like the coins are in there.’

The Tinker nodded, ‘And that’s the magic in action. This coin is bound to me, it will always return to me - it’s lightweight and it carries value no matter where in the world I am. I think it’d be the perfect thing for you.’

‘You’ve convinced me,’ Sparrow said, ‘but how do I take it? If you give it to me, it’s always going to end up back in your pocket.’

‘Clever!’ The Tinker shouted, ‘Very clever! I can never give this coin to you… it is bound to me you see, but what I can give you is a map to the Artificers Binqi Sect.’ The Tinker unfolded a stained, torn map and trailed his leather-like finger over it.

‘Two hundred leagues from here there is a crack in the earth. It’s large and gaping and the old folk call it the gateway to hell. It is there that you will find the Artificers Binqi Sect. If you have the time and the will you’ll learn many things that will help you in your travels.’

Sparrow grinned, ‘And knowledge is a light weight to carry.’

The Tinker’s smile disappeared, his face creased, ‘That, my friend, depends on the knowledge. You remember that, okay?’

Sparrow turned away, looked out towards his friends, but the music had stopped and they were gone.

‘I should be getting back,’ Sparrow said to the Tinker. He turned to thank the man for his help, but the Tinker, his cart, and his donkey were gone.