It was the end of an early summer’s day. 

The air carried a scent of moist earth, mixed with tobacco smoke, and perfume fragrances. The late evening at the docks bloomed with promises of the oncoming night, the ideal time for a man to satisfy his needs.

And Nathaniel knew all too well of the many ways to satisfy them. 

Desires and endeavors that would be otherwise condemned in the light of day, only truly became alive when fewer eyes could see them, and fewer minds could judge them. For the night held many secrets, and offered a certain distance from the known world, filled with rules and expectations. Things that would be regarded as sinful or superstitious tended to grow more acceptable, even more believable, when the sun set and the moon rose. 

The hard line separating possibility from impossibility becoming less distinguishable, and less important, giving rise to mystery and wonder.

Giving a man the thrill he so much longed for. 

With hands in his pockets, Nathaniel took a deep inhale, breathing in the intoxicants. He felt his blood starting to flow, a smile creeping on his face. As he started walking down to the docks, he realized that the Night Market was the only place where he felt truly alive.

Truly at home.

Be it the indulgence in exotic arts of lovemaking, gambling, and wagering with money, or with lives… visiting mystics and fortune tellers, dealing with substances that made a man dream with his eyes open… marveling at the latest science patents not yet gone public or attending occult rituals held in secluded dark places…. there was something for everyone to be found at the Night Market. 

Even for Nathaniel, who had seen and experienced many of the market’s options. Even he, who came here so often, found something new and different every time, for the Night Market was not so much a place as it was an idea. An idea that every desire could be fulfilled, to an extent that was bound by the physical reality of this world… and sometimes beyond. It was a gathering of those who sought and those who offered, of takers and givers, buyers and sellers. 

The satisfied and the satisfying. 

Words were merely labels and to Nathaniel, the Night Market was simply a way to experience the whole world in one place. Money was not always the resource that would get you what you sought. And for a man who had little of it, that felt liberating.

As Nathaniel strolled past the various stands, cloth tents, wagons, and shacks, he observed the things on display. A mirror so well polished that it revealed the ethereal world to the naked eye; which was but a mirror, painted with a special coating so that everyone who looked at it appeared to have an aura around them. 

A lamp that could levitate on its own, with nothing supporting it; which fell and shattered if you removed the magnets from under it. A beautiful foreign woman with firm round breasts, attractively curved hips, and a look so seductive that it made men and women alike lust for her; said to be an Amazonian goddess of fertility incarnated in human flesh, but was merely a tribal girl, taken from her home and sold on the market. 

And it was not that Nathaniel condemned such things or found them a fraud. He enjoyed them as much as any man, but unlike most men, he would not be fooled by the masterfully crafted stories of the sellers. Unless he wanted to be fooled. 

Sometimes a man wanted to believe in something so much that he would let himself be fooled and even pay for the illusion. The Night Market was what provided that illusion and Nathaniel had seen firsthand how well perfected some of those illusions were. 

He had seen a woman being possessed by a demon, her eyes rolling backward, speaking in tongues that sounded too constructed and articulated to be made up, but that nobody understood, and her entire body becoming scorching hot to the touch. It could have been that she consumed some poison or intoxicant beforehand, but Nathaniel hadn’t heard of anything that could cause such a reaction. 

Or the time when a fortune teller predicted his future and it was exactly as the man had said. Nathaniel didn’t believe him at first, but when he was knee-deep in the river, going for a wash, and stumbled upon a fistful of gold nuggets he begged to differ. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps it wasn’t. But the thrill of the possibility was very real. And that was why Nathaniel, as people like him, kept coming back.

To be fooled one more time…. or to witness a true miracle. 

***

“Mythical currencies, get your mythical currencies right here! Do you want to trade with fairies and other beings of the deep forest? Do you want to make a bargain with the devil, but not offer him your soul? Do you wish to buy a few decades of life from an angelic creature, or perhaps buy yourself or your loved one a wish? What better present for an anniversary, marriage, or birthday than to grant someone their deepest wish. Come over and choose the proper currency for the proper deal! Mythical currencies, ladies and gentlemen, from all across the globe!”

Nathaniel took notice of a man, standing in front of a small tent, loudly advertising his trades. Mythical currencies. That was something new and it sounded intriguing.

Nathaniel smiled. It was probably just some old coins from ancient peoples and cultures around the world. Coins made from silver and gold were valuable for their own materials and were also rare artifacts and collectibles. The man at the tent was a short individual, wearing a red turban and loose orange robes. His voice sounded foreign, but Nathaniel couldn’t tell where the man could be from. A mighty gray beard and mustache adorned his face, covering his mouth and putting more attention to his eyes, which were carefully scanning passersby in hopes of making a connection with someone and luring them in. Many traders had perfected their speaking and gesturing so that once you made eye contact with them it was a likely chance that you would end up buying something. It was all psychological, as they say. A scientifically proven method to the way the human mind believes anything, as long as it is said very convincingly.

Nathaniel paused and observed the seller, waiting if someone would approach him and perhaps purchase one of his mythical currencies.

“The only place, ladies and gentlemen, where you can exchange money and possessions for those who want to trade with the supernatural! Have you ever met a spirit, only to find out that it won’t take your pounds or your dollars or even your gold and silver? That is because spirits don’t care for human currencies, those have no value for them! Don’t be fooled by a spirit ever again and come get your proper currency right here in my tent!”

For five minutes Nathaniel waited and for five minutes the man went on, advertising his trade. People walked by, many turning their heads, but none stopping for longer than a glance. Some laughed at the short man, others simply waved their hands and continued searching for their thrill. Nathaniel was about to do the same when his and the man’s eyes met.

“You sir, wearing a black hat and coat, would you be interested in what I have to offer? Come closer! Now that you have listened to me talk for five or so minutes, you must have already gotten an idea of what type of currency you could find in handy!”

The man was good, Nathaniel had to smile. He caught him off guard there, pretending like he didn’t see him the moment he stopped to regard his tent. But Nathaniel didn’t mind. The night was just getting started and he hadn’t stopped anywhere yet. This would be his first endeavor, and besides, it was something he had never heard of before. He felt his interest spike a little as he began walking to the tent.

“Yes, an applause for this fine gentleman who has decided to take matters into his own two hands! Fortune always favors the bold, as they say, but what they don’t tell you is that it also favors those who are well prepared for it! Come, sir, and let us find out what I can do for you tonight.”

Nathaniel came and stood opposite the short man, whose head reached only to his shoulders. He couldn’t help but smile at the man’s professionalism and he respected that. If there was one thing that Nathaniel didn’t tolerate at the Night Market then it was amateurs. He looked down at the seller and smiled.

The game was on.

“Good evening, grandpa,” he said to the man and tipped his hat a tiny bit, his mannerism and gesture showing that he was interested, but that the seller will have to work hard for anything more. “I know it’s past bedtime for most children, but you’re still selling bedtime stories. You do know that there are no children here? At least not with the power to buy.”

“Good evening, my friend,” the seller said and bowed, just enough to show his respect to the potential customer and still keep his dignity. His eyes were burning with passion and he didn’t seem one bit offended by the provocation. “You are completely right, sir, but just like so many adults you dismiss the child within you too quickly. For true magic to happen, one must be willing to believe, not blindly mind you, but believe that in keeping an open mind, anything is possible. And the very fact that you stand here right now tells me that yours is a very open mind, my friend. You seek that which is above normal men, that which they cannot even fathom, is it not?”

“And what might that be, grandpa?” Nathaniel didn’t let his smile and scrutinizing look fade. But he began to like this man. “Unless you can read my mind you cannot know what I want.”

“Even so, the mind is not the only thing that can be read, my friend. The eyes are a window to the soul and the soul does not lie, even when the mind tries to.”

It was like the seller saw straight through his pretense. This old man was good and Nathaniel liked him for that. Perhaps his first stop tonight would prove interesting yet. “That is a fine observation you have, but you best be careful with how you speak it. Some might think you just called them liars and that could be bad for business.”

The man’s beard moved as the mouth beneath it formed a smile. “How insensible of me indeed. Please, I beg your forgiveness, my friend, but old age tends to make a man’s tongue sharp. When one lives as long as I, he simply hasn’t much patience for making sure his every word is polite.”

Nathaniel chuckled. “In that, I think we can both agree. Tell me, do you have a name or should I just continue calling you grandpa?”

The man bowed his head again, but not as much as before. “Adpurhama Saghanta is my true name, but many also know me as Master of Coin or simply ‘the currency man’.”

Nathaniel never heard of a name like that. To him it sounded similar to someone from India, but not quite.

“That’s quite a mouthful. Would you mind if I call you Apu?”

“Of course not, my friend. You can call me as you like, I am here to serve you tonight.” The man clasped his hands together and rubbed them as if trying to warm them up. “So, my friend! What can old Apu do for you? What type of creature or being would you desire to trade with? Not all mythological entities trade with the same currencies and it is vital you have the proper one, ‘less you want to be scammed.”

“A very sound warning Apu, but it comes without a guarantee that you won’t do the same. I mean no disrespect, but you must realize how fantastical this all sounds to someone who a few minutes ago didn’t even know there was such a thing as mythical currencies.”

The seller nodded. “Yes, you are wise to be prudent, my friend. Undoubtedly you had your share of vagabonds who tried to get one up on you. I despise such people! It is because of them that the rest of us are held in bad reputations! But what can we do, there is always going to be someone who will try to take advantage of someone else. It is in human nature.”

Nathaniel eyed the man carefully. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Apu looked surprised. “But you haven’t asked one.”

Technically, he didn’t. It was more of a statement that the man didn’t try to argue. He was clever.

“Very well Apu, then answer me this. What is a mythical currency?”

Apu’s eyes flared with momentary enthusiasm, confirming to Nathaniel that he asked the right question. He could see the old man was eager to answer it, perhaps even waiting all evening for someone to pose it, but yet he did not rush. There was much wisdom and skill in this seller, wisdom that came with the experience of old age.

“Intelligent men pose intelligent questions and it is my great delight that I can share some enlightenment.” He glanced around quickly as if trying to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on their conversation. A touch of drama that Nathaniel found unnecessary. “As you may know, my friend, it is a mysterious world that you and I have come to be born into. We are surrounded by things and phenomena that we do not understand and that both fascinate and terrify us. One might argue though, that science and man’s industriousness means the death of myth, and that it places such things as merely stories and fancies. But let me ask you this; what is it really that makes a man tick inside? Is it his heart and brain and his organs? If so, we could probably make machines of man one day, but would that be the same as you and I talking here? Or is there something more to man, something unseen and deeply mysterious? Something more to life itself? Where do man’s myths and legends come from? I have studied many different cultures, tribes, and traditions all over the world and I have found some things to be common to most of them. Many different peoples, from different parts of the world, share similar myths and beliefs about their world. My friend, could that be a coincidence?”

Nathaniel offered him a skeptical look. “What else could it be? It’s the nature of the human mind, is all that is. The mind works in particular ways and therefore produces similar reasoning regardless of the environment.”

“And yet,” Apu said, raising a finger to the sky, “what is that reasoning based on? Where did the mind find the material from which to construct these myths and traditions? Did it make them up entirely? After all, it is in human nature that we can only imitate what has already been done in nature, or by God, and cannot come up with anything new.” He paused just enough for Nathaniel to consider his argument before he continued.

“In every lie, there is a grain of truth. Every word is spoken with some intent. Every action is done to reach some desired outcome. The human mind does not know randomness, my friend. And it is the same thing with these myths; they hold some fundamental inherent truth within them.”

Nathaniel regarded the man for a moment, considering his response. “That may be so and if it is, it would suggest werewolves and fairies to be real creatures, roaming amongst us. But then tell me, Apu, how come we never see them? Save for drunk men and crazy women, no one has ever found substantial proof of these beings, or any supernatural occurrence for that matter, to be real. Why is that, if not because these are just stories? Or would you have me believe that you’ve seen one yourself?”

The old man’s beard moved as his mouth formed words to counteract Nathaniel’s questioning. The passion in his eyes only intensified. “It is simple, my friend. Why do you not see bears and tigers walking into town? They are afraid! They know man would kill them because he finds them a threat to his survival. And for sport, of course. But animals are only animals and sometimes one of them does wander into town and gets killed. They cannot think intelligently, cannot reason. A gnome, on the other hand, is smart. It will never wander into town in broad daylight because it knows what will happen. It has seen it happen to its kin millennia ago when mankind was still young and only emerging to claim the world. Mythical creatures are rare, for man has brought them to the verge of extinction. And to answer your other question, yes. I have seen them with my own eyes.”

Nathaniel stared into the old man’s eyes for a long time and found Apu to be convinced in the truth of his own words. Either he was a master at telling untruths or he has told the lie so many times that he has convinced himself of its legitimacy. But that wasn’t so important. What was important was that Nathaniel could indulge himself in the illusion, by letting himself believe this man. It was what he came here for, after all. Even if his rational mind knew it was all make-believe, he could willingly decide to believe this man and suspend his rationality for the sake of the thrill. The Night Market was a safe place where one could do that, without being judged or scrutinized for it. The only thing was, that one had to keep enough of his senses not to put all his money into his make-beliefs.

After a long silence in which the men measured each other, Nathaniel finally spoke. “I am convinced that you genuinely believe in the truth of what you speak. And that, Apu, is the definition of honesty, which is a rare thing with merchants these days, and one that I have grown to appreciate. But you still haven’t answered my original question; what is a mythological currency?”

“I have come to find long ago that lying is bad for my type of business, my friend, as counterintuitive as that might seem.” The comment brought an audible chuckle from Nathaniel, but Apu continued. “I will now answer your question, but you see, first I had to convince you that there are some beings with which you can trade, otherwise what use is there for a mythical currency? If I were only to sell this currency to customers, without them having an understanding of whom they will be trading with, that would be a fraud on my part. But as I said, I am here to serve you, my friend. If hopefully I have shed some light on the subject and you are now ready to hear of the actual goods with which I trade, I would like to invite you inside my tent. What I’m about to say next can only be heard by those to whom I’ve said everything that I’ve said to you up to this point. I do not want any hacklers and dabblers in my tent, only open-minded and intelligent people, such as I am convinced you are.”

Nathaniel thought of how to counter this, but the man simply turned around and disappeared behind the curtains of the tent. He made it clear he would not say another word unless it was said in the privacy of his tent, under his conditions. That gave all his previous words some credibility, which they lacked before, in Nathaniel’s opinion. He found Apu not telling him much up to now, but he did manage to stoke his curiosity from simple interest to a need to know more. Even if only to dismiss it later on.

The fact that Nathaniel wanted to be fooled was what ultimately led him to lower his head and pull aside the curtains, entering the small tent.