There was a moment of silence. The Chalcedean merchant tried again. ‘The man I represent will want proof that he is what you say he is. Give me something to send him, and I’ll advise him to meet your price.’
Big Nose mulled this over for a short time. ‘Like what?’ he asked sullenly.
‘A finger. Or a toe.’ At the outrage on Big Nose’s face, the merchant amended, ‘Or just a joint off one of his fingers. A token. Of good faith in the bargaining. Your price is high.’
‘Yes. It is. And I’m not cutting anything off him that won’t grow back! I cut him, he takes an infection and dies, I’ve lost my investment. And how do I know that one finger isn’t all you really need? No. You want a piece of him, you pay me for it, up front.’
Selden listened and as the full implication of their words sunk into him, he reeled in sick horror. ‘You’re going to sell one of my fingers? This is madness! Look at me! Look me in the face! I’m a human!’
Big Nose turned and glared at him. Their eyes met. ‘You don’t shut up, you’re going to be a bloody human. And you heard me tell him, I’m not cutting anything off you that won’t grow back. So you got nothing to complain about.’
Selden thought he had already experienced the depths of cruelty that these men were capable of. Two cities ago, one of his tenders had rented him for the evening to a curious customer. His mind veered from recalling that and as Big Nose’s grinning assistant held up a black-handled knife, Selden heard a roaring in his ears.
‘It has to be something that proves he is what you say he is,’ the buyer insisted. He crossed his arms on his chest. ‘I’ll pay you ten silvers for it. But then if my master is satisfied and wants to buy him, you have to take ten silvers off your price.’
Big Nose considered it. His assistant cleaned his nails with the tip of the knife.
‘Twenty silvers,’ he countered. ‘Before we cut him.’
The Chalcedean chewed his lower lip. ‘For a piece of flesh, with scales on it, as big as the palm of my hand.’
‘Stop!’ Selden bellowed, but it came out as a shriek. ‘You can’t do this. You can’t!’
‘As big as my two fingers,’ Big Nose stipulated. ‘And the money here in my hand before we begin.’
‘Done,’ said the buyer quickly.
Big Nose spat into the straw and held out his hand. The coins chinked, one after another, into his palm.
Selden backed away as far as his chains would allow him. ‘I’ll fight you!’ he cried. ‘I’m not going to stand here and let you cut me.’
‘As you wish,’ Big Nose replied. He opened his purse and dropped the money in. ‘Give me the knife, Reever. You two get to sit on him while I take a piece off his shoulder.’
Day the 14th of the Hope Moon
Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Kim, Keeper of the Birds, Cassarick to Trader Finbok, Bingtown
Sent in a doubly sealed messenger tube, with plugs of green and then blue wax. If either seal is missing or damaged, notify me immediately!
Greetings to Trader Finbok.
As you requested, I have continued to inspect shipments from my station. You know the hazards this presents for me, and I think you ought to be more generous in rewarding my efforts. My gleanings have been a bit confusing, but we both know that where there is secrecy, there is profit to be made. While there is no direct word of your son’s wife or on the success or failure of the Tarman expedition, I think that tidings I have sent you may be valuable in ways we cannot yet evaluate. And I remind you that our agreement was that you would pay me for the risks I took as much as the information I gleaned. To put it plainly and at great risk to myself if this message should fall into other hands, if my spying is discovered, I will lose my position as Bird Keeper. If that befalls me, all will want to know for whom I was spying. I think that my promise to keep that information private no matter what befalls me should be worth something to you. Think carefully before you rebuke me again for how paltry my tidings are. A man cannot catch fish when the river is empty.
For this reason, you must speak to a certain bird seller in the city, a man called Sheerup on the street of the meat vendors. He can arrange for me to receive a shipment of birds that will return to him rather than to the Guild cages, ensuring the privacy of our communication. He will then pass on my messages to you. This will not be cheap, but opportunities always go to the man who makes them his.
Convey my greetings to your wife, Sealia. I am sure her continued comfort and well-being as the wife of a wealthy Trader are important to both of you.
Kim
CHAPTER FOUR
Kelsingra
She walked the deserted streets alone. A gleaming Elderling robe of coppery fabric sheathed her body. In strange contrast, her boots were worn, and her flapping cloak was mottled with long use. Her bare head was bent to the wind that tugged her hair free of its pinned braids. Alise squinted her eyes against the tearing chill of the moving air and trudged doggedly on. Her hands were nearly numb but she clutched a floppy roll of bleached fabric in her hands. The doorway of a nearby house gaped open and empty, its wooden shutter long rotted away.
When she stepped inside, she gave a shuddering sigh of gratitude. It was no warmer, but at least the wind no longer tore away her body’s heat. The Elderling robe that Leftrin had given her kept her body warm, but it could not protect her head and neck, nor her hands and feet. The susurrus that filled the moving air and tugged at her attention died away. She hugged herself, warming her hands under her arms as she gazed around the abandoned dwelling. There was little to be seen. Outlines on the tiled floor told of wooden furniture long rotted away to crumbly splinters. She scuffed a boot across the floor. The tiles beneath the dust were a rich dark red.
A rectangular hole in the ceiling and a heap of ancient debris beneath it spoke of a stairway decayed to dust. The ceiling itself was sound. Long ‘beams’ of cut stone supported a structure of interlocked blocks. Before she came to Kelsingra she’d never seen the like, but fitted stonework seemed to predominate here, even in the smallest homes.
A hearth in the corner of the room had survived. It jutted out into the room, and was adorned with tiles. Alise gathered the tail of her cloak and rubbed it across the smoothly tiled mantel and then exclaimed in delight. What she had thought was smeared dirt on the red tiles were actually black etchings. As she studied them, she recognized that they had a theme. Cooking and foods. Here was a fat fish on a platter, and next to it a bowl full of round roots with the leaves still attached. On another tile, she found a steaming pot of something, and a third showed a pig roasting on a spit. ‘So. Elderlings appear to have enjoyed the same foods we do.’
She spoke softly almost as if she feared to wake someone. It was a feeling that had possessed her ever since Rapskal’s dragon had first brought her to visit the ruined city. It seemed empty, abandoned and dead. And yet she could not shake the feeling that around any corner, she might encounter the
