At first it was just normal homes and shops, only a few of them open in he early hour, everything from bakeries to fripperies, inns and pubs. This area, so near the Isle, glowed with both the light of the soft down and the red of the river reflected. Even the voices of the people were hushed, muffled by the lingering mist.

Kell's breath puffed warmly around his face as Neria slowed, looking around, and Kell kept a firm, warm hold on her, slowing to indulge her curiosity as she began to grow comfortable.

Youngsters making deliveries had started their rounds to load up the shops for the day, and a few chased each other about, squealing as they caught each other with cold blasts of air. A worker tending to the street-lamps bent to correct a damaged runic spell-form, touching his fingers to the elegant wrought-iron. The glass globe flared briefly, then dimmed back down as the city began to wake.

They moved through the streets and instead into a winding world that seemed half built of tents, everything from lean-to to pavilion, selling everything from soup and tea to small globes of light, colorful masks, jewel-toned scarves, looking glasses and puzzle boxes.

It was quieter here -- most of the vendors had already packed up, or had already gone to sleep. Kell led Neria through the maze as if he were born to it, and swept aside a swath of cloth, tilting his head to invite Neria inside.

Calla was not immediately present -- but her wares were. Everything lined the walls, hung artistically from the ceiling, creating a tasteful riot of color and texture. From finely made leatherwork to delicately beaded cloth, butterfly-wing thin veils. Kell's coat looked rather at home here.

"Calla?" Kell asked, his voice low and carrying. He let go of Neria's hand to seek her out.