Page 44 of Gunslinger Girl

But he was right. Starr and the Tin Men were there, and more help was on the way. “Which way to Casimir, then? These streets are a maze.”

“We’re not going back yet.”

“What?”

Max brightened a little, hints of his usual persona returning. “I told you there was more to Cessation than Casimir, and that wasn’t it. You should see something good today, too.”

The camp had left Pity with a sour feeling in her chest, one that would be easier to contemplate behind safe walls. But moments ago Max had looked nearly despondent and now…

If it will cheer him up. “Fine. I guess I still have plenty of ammo if we run into more trouble.”

They made their way back to the main streets, soon arriving at a large square building with rows of narrow windows across its front side. Above the entrance, a hand-painted sign read BLACKMARK, flanked by large black Xs. People were coming and going at a steady pace, and Pity was heartened to see more Tin Men. Their presence alleviated some of her worry as she and Max pushed their way through the front doors.

Inside was an electric bedlam that rivaled even that of the Gallery. It was a single open space, the ceiling five stories above their heads. Sunlight streamed through the windows onto a twisted maze of booths and stalls.

“Watch for pickpockets,” said Max.

“I’ve got nothing for them to steal,” Pity said, “unless they want a handful of bullets.”

“Boots!” the vendors called. “Circuit boards! Vaccines! Spices!”

Though Pity couldn’t quite put the battered dissidents out of her mind, BlackMark succeeded in garnering the lion’s share of her attention. Compared to the commune’s commissaries, it was a cornucopia. She saw dried meats and beans, grains, and fruits of all kinds. There were guns and knives, too, mostly old war-issue stock that had seen better days. As they moved closer to the middle, the booths grew nicer, filled with silks and perfumes, and clothing that reminded Pity of what Flossie’s lot preferred.

“See anything you like?” Max picked through a bin of paint cans. He chose one and paid the vendor.

“There’s so much! Even if I had any money, this is like looking through a haystack to find a needle I don’t need.” And it hardly felt right, ogling the endless goods after coming from a group of people who’d lost almost everything.

But, she thought, maybe once her wages from the Theatre started, it would be fun to come back and browse.

“I didn’t bring you all the way here only to let you leave empty-handed. Here, do you like scarves? This one would—”

“Make me look ridiculous?” Pity laughed and turned to another stall. There, among a selection of leather items, a black gun belt with silver buckles caught her eye. Unable to resist, she caught the vendor’s attention and pointed. “Can I see that, please?”

The vendor gave her a dubious look until he spotted the revolvers at her hips. He turned all smiles. “Of course, miss, here you are. The very best leather!”

Pity ran her fingertips over the tooled designs. They were expertly done.

“Try it on,” urged Max.

“It’s too nice.” She began to give it back.

Max stopped her. “Pity, try that belt on. You’re getting something while we’re here, and I swear it will be that scarf unless you—”

“Okay, okay!” She unhooked her old belt—her father’s old belt, she reminded herself—and handed it to Max. Then she strapped the black one around her waist and slipped the guns into the holsters. It fit like it had been made for her.

“How much?” asked Max.

The vendor quoted a figure. Max threw back a much lower one. They haggled back and forth, but Pity barely heard a word. Grinning ear to ear, she admired the sheen of the leather, the smoothness of the finish. It was the finest gun belt she had ever seen.

And Max was buying it for her.

Finally, the price was settled and Max handed over the money. “You want to keep this?” he asked of the old belt.

She stared at it, one of the few remaining pieces of her past. “No, I do not.”

Max tossed it to the vendor. “Don’t let me catch you charging an arm and a leg for this one, too.”

Her face felt like it might split from smiling. “I’ll pay you back, I promise, just as soon as I—”