expected the manager to take offense at this, and he tensed his right arm. Sapheley, however, just smiled sweetly and said, “Let’s find out.” Then he stood up and disappeared back into thin air.
Vordius leaned over the table and grabbed his friend by the collar, “May the Shadow take you, Sorgius. What is this trade you’re talking about? Why don’t I know anything about it? What do I do if they ask me questions?”
“I’m the one doing the talking. Your job is to nod and look tough.”
“I’ll show you tough!” his eyes glinted.
“Sit down. People are watching. And let go of my collar.” Sorgius whispered. When Vordius complied, he continued, “The trade I’m talking about is the black market for voluntary workers – poor men who can’t pay their debts. They work for food, and the people who buy them keep the profit.” He lowered his voice. “There are official quotas, of course, but men like this Asp know how to buy quotas from corrupt members of the chancery. And there’s a shortage of workers in Vuravia right now, so…”
“Do you think it will work? Vordius interrupted. “What if they decide to talk to the barber first?”
“Why would they do that? Don’t you understand anything? If they wait for him, they’ll have to share with him. They’re thinking that since Taney never mentioned me, he was planning to go around them and keep the money for himself. This way, he gets nothing. Now hush, he’s coming back!”
Sapheley slid up to their table oozing with decorum. “My dear Enels, you’ve been invited to share a bottle of wine. Follow me.”
The friends rose slowly and, moving with dignity, followed Sapheley into the tavern. They passed through a hall where guests hollered appreciatively at dancing girls and men playing stringed instruments and found themselves in a narrow hallway. The walls were hung with a tapestry of gold dragons romping on a field of pale blue velvet.
“I beg your pardon, but you will need to leave your weapons here,” the manager’s voice was silky as he held out a copper tray.
Looking disgusted, Sorgius slowly laid an aquamarine-encrusted Capotian dagger on the tray. Vordius, his eyes empty, added two long boot knives.
“I’m sure you understand,” Sapheley said as he stepped aside. His place was taken by a dour man with a pointed face and a sack-like figure. His large lips made his face even less pleasant. He felt both visitors down with palms so large that Sorgius and Vordius felt like toys in his hands.
“Good grief!” Sorgius thought with a shudder. Vordius tried to catch the large man’s eye with an aggressive glance, but he was ignored. The man was only interested in their clothing and whatever might be hidden in it.
“You may go in,” Sapheley instructed them, pointing at a door that was carved in the Torgendam style with spiraling patterns.
They entered a dim room with four bronze lamps shaped like writhing snakes that cast very little light. The flames coming from their open mouths cast flickering shadows on the wood-paneled walls. At the other end of the room, a man in a gray robe who looked to be about forty sat on a round antique stool. On either side of him stood a large bodyguard. Losing no time, Sorgius introduced himself with great magnificence and handed the man a gift, as was the custom.
“It’s real Cahadrian topaz!” he bragged about the bracelet, which his father had brought him as a gift from home just a month before.
Vordius inconspicuously looked around the room. The silence that followed did not bother him, for he had little interest in men from the criminal underworld who pretended to be kings. In fact, he was feeling quite confident.
“Greetings, friends!” the man finally said in the voice of one who sees the flaws in everything, even in the Heavenly Deity. His round face contrasted oddly with his sharp nose and thin lips.
“My name is Cordelius Yahey. When Fire Asp was told of honorable guests from the south, he asked me to receive them with all the proper hospitality. My words are his words. I thank you for the gift. Please sit down.”
The friends sat next to each other on a long bench that was a little too hard to be comfortable. Moving silently, servants came in and placed a small table in front of each of them. Then, cups of various sizes were set on the tables. This was the beginning of sei nifu, an Ulinian ritual that had become popular among the more powerful men of the Empire’s underworld.
“How was your road, dear guests?” Yahey inquired politely, lifting a small cup.
“It was a good road, and you are a good host,” Sorgius bowed, holding his cup with both hands.”
“Allow me to offer you some wine!”
They were poured a soft Ulinian wine that had been warmed to enhance the plum notes. After the first sip, the drinker always wanted to drain his glass and ask for more, but that was exactly what made the wine dangerous.
“Is our host well?” Sorgius asked the next question in the series and lifted a slightly larger cup that had just been filled noiselessly.
“Quite well, thank you!” Yahey replied with a bow.
“Allow me to offer you some wine!”
It was a game that could go on forever, but at any moment the guest could leave without losing face or offending the host. All one had to do was politely say “Thank you, the wine was delightful!” However, the two friends were in luck, and the conversation soon took a more pragmatic turn.
“How is my distant brother, Kinsman Koshtey?”
“He is well, thank you for asking.”
“And his wife, that paragon of Vuravian womanhood – is she well?”
Sorgius tensed for a moment, but replied in a calm voice, “I am sure that her soul finds joy in the next life with the Heavenly Deity!”
Yahey’s face showed nothing as he replaced his cup on the tray in front of him. A long strand of light hair fell in his face.
“I have been told you would like to engage in trade?”
Vordius shook himself awake. Sorgius smiled broadly. “Exactly.”
“Who told you that we could help you?”
“The man you know as the barber Taney.”
“I do know a man by that name,” Yahey said. He was silent for a moment, and then said, “Was he supposed to introduce you to me?”
“He promised he would,” Sorgius said coldly.
“But he said nothing about it to me,” their host replied with a shrug.
“He was supposed to speak for us. We cannot speak for him,” Sorgius said.
The man’s lips stretched into something like a smile. “True. He wronged you if he gave his word and broke it.” He paused. “Or did he never give his word?”
Vordius gulped. Their host’s dreamy manner concealed something dangerous. He looked down and to one side to see if there was anyone behind him.
“Ask
