"Honor. Duty. The righteousness of planting your spear against the giant and shouting 'No more!'"
Dante folded his hands on top of the table. "Going into this, were any of you aware that Cavana follows The Gold Road? Or are you that ignorant of your neighbors?"
The Keeper looked appropriately sheepish. "I was unaware that they were so strict. This is a bad sign. If his reticence stems from his faith, then his resolve will be unbreakable."
Dante broke into laughter. "You really didn't get out of your shrine much, did you? People betray their faith like it's a sport. If you want to be charitable to them, you can argue that they fail because the gods make too many demands of us for anyone to follow."
"And if I'm not prone to charity?"
"Then we fail because we're corrupt. And every last one of us has our price."
"That is a sad thing to think."
"Oh sure, so our souls might be damned forever," Blays said. "But right now, we should be thrilled. Because it means Itiego's got a price, too."
Dante nodded. "He said no. But that doesn't mean he hates the idea so much that he'd rather eat his own children with applesauce than to strike a deal with us. It only means our initial offer wasn't good enough. How do we make it more appealing?"
"Bribery?"
"Collen's broke."
"And you're so cheap that when your old boots start to fall off your feet, you'd rather give up walking than by new ones. I bet the thought of coughing up enough cash to bribe a merchant-prince makes you break out in hives."
"Itiego would never risk being funded by Narashtovik. If Mallon found out, they'd stomp him into a well-dressed paste."
Blays grew thoughtful. "Blackmail? He probably has mistresses. Then again, hearing a noble's having an affair is about as shocking as hearing a fish has wet skin."
Boggs sniffed. "How 'bout threats? 'Do like we say, or we'll annex your borders.'"
"Threats are counterproductive," Dante said. "You might strongarm Itiego into doing what you want for a while. But it'll only make him resent you. As soon as you turn your back, he'll find out how many knives he can stick in it."
"We should shame his honor," Cord said. "And if that fails, we should show him the color of his own blood."
"I just told you, threats won't buy his loyalty."
"Who says it's to buy his loyalty? I just want to hurt him!"
Blays gestured to the high towers, the view of the ocean. "Itiego's already got so much money he got bored with it. We won't be able to buy him off. Not with silver."
"Of course," Dante said. "This is the man who united all of Alebolgia underneath him. The only way to reach him is by offering him more power."
Boggs smirked. "What've you got in mind?"
"It's your land. What can you afford to give up?"
"Could do like we were thinking and expand the canals. Not just to Parth. To the Strip, too. Sign him access to both the basin and Parth."
"Make it clear he can divvy up his rights to the canals, too. No better way to buy influence with the other houses and cities than to give them special trade rights. He'll realize he can use that to play the other cities against each other, too."
Blays kicked his feet up on the table. "Now you're thinking like a manipulative bastard."
They drew up plans for the new canals, then a proposal for the division of their rights-of-way. In the morning, they asked Gareno to speak with Itiego again. Gareno returned to tell them Itiego would grant a second audience, but only to the despot.
After Gareno left, Boggs grunted. "I get the impression he don't trust you all."
"Could be," Blays said. "Either that, or he thinks you're particularly stupid."
Boggs grinned. The following morning, he went off to make his case. He returned within forty minutes looking rather less amused.
"He heard me out." The despot dropped into a chair, expelling a hard sigh. "But he didn't ask more than three questions. Doubt if he'll bite."
Boggs' skepticism proved right on the mark. After lunch, Gareno returned with word that their proposal didn't suit Itiego's current needs.
"Lord Itiego wishes to know how much longer you intend to stay?" Gareno smiled, the model of politeness. "So that he can continue to make proper arrangements, of course."
"Of course," Dante said. "We won't trouble you more than another three days."
The servant smiled again, bowed, and left.
Cord swore. "I told you we needed to insult his honor. When you tell a man he has no balls, he'll act so fast to prove you wrong he'll drop his breeches in the middle of town square."
The Keeper shifted her legs, rubbing one knee. "What now?"
Dante met her eyes. "Unless you're willing to offer Itiego the entire basin, he'll never work with us. If he won't, we'll have to find someone who will."
She leaned forward, dropping her voice. "You mean to depose him."
"I mean to explore our options. A man like Itiego will have enemies. They might be able to pressure him in ways we can't."
To provide lodging for their retinue, they made arrangements to hire out an entire inn down near the docks. The marine air smelled like kelp and salt. Sea lions barked from the rocks. As soon as they settled in, they went over a list of the city's other major Houses, deciding on seven that had the strength and wealth to make a legitimate challenge to Itiego. Boggs' messengers dispersed throughout the city.
One response came back that same day. Regretfully, the House's master was indisposed. It wasn't known when he would be available again, but it was implied that it could take weeks. Two others replied the following day, stating they had no interest in such a meeting. The other Houses gave no response at all.
"Itiego's gotten to them," Dante said. "He's poisoned the entire city against us."
"That's a bit of an extreme move," Blays said. "Your reputation must have preceded you."
"Cavana ain't the only city in the Strip." Boggs fetched a map from his trunk and spread it over the table, standing over it. "Could try Hemalio. Word is they had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the confederation."
"It's as good a start as any." Dante stared glumly at the map. "But whatever promises and threats Itiego made to the Houses of Cavana, he'll do the same in Hemalio."
Boggs set to penning another slew of letters. While the servants went to the work of settling their debts and restocking their provisions, Dante went for a walk around the town, hiking up its steep streets, grateful for the coolness of the sea. He'd badly hoped that sealing off the Strip would be quick and clean, requiring no killings or fracturing of political schisms.
What if protecting Collen required sparking a war in Alebolgia? Did he have it in him to fight another battle for a land that wasn't his? Did he even have the time for that? The snows would be falling in Collen any day. This time, if he stayed longer than he'd promised, he couldn't blame the Colleners. The fault would be no one's but his own.
He returned to the inn without any answers. As he opened the door, he nearly slammed into a trim young man dressed in subtly expensive knee-high boots. The young man bowed and stepped aside.
Upstairs, Blays stuck his head out a doorway. "There you are. You're going to want to see this."
Dante entered, shutting the door behind him. The other four members of the Hand were arrayed around the room's only table.
"Note came in," Boggs said. "Somebody wants a meet."
"Really? Which House?"
"It don't say. Don't even know for sure it is a House."
Brow creased, Dante read the note. It was a request for the delegates from Collen to show up at one in the morning at a place called Doche's Point. The opportunity would only be offered once.
Dante shrugged. "So we go meet the mysterious stranger. We're leaving tomorrow anyway."
"Not if the mysterious stranger is a Mallish ambush," Blays said.
"Would be a fine opportunity to behead Collen and Narashtovik in one blow."
Cord stood, the talles
t one of them. "Then I will go."
"We'll all go," Dante said. "But we'll do it in a way that minimizes the chances of us all falling victim to a predictably sudden death."
Doche's Point was a spar of rock a short way south of town. Accessible only via a shepherd's trail, and with the steady boom of surf and hoots of sea lions drowning out any other sound, it would be a fine place to murder some of your enemies without drawing attention.
They struck out for the point at midnight. Cord and Blays walked out onto the damp rocks, black crabs scattering away. The Keeper and Boggs were stationed on the cliffs above. Dante killed a pair of crabs and sent them scuttling down both sides of the trail, then climbed up to join the Keeper.
The air was frigid. Mist streamed inland, dampening Dante's cloak until it hung on him like an anchor. As one o'clock neared, three silhouettes appeared on the southern trail. They carried swords, but seeing no army backing them up, Dante deemed it safe to join Blays and Cord on the rocks.
There, he bit the inside of his cheek, keeping the nether close. The trio of strangers moved out onto the rocky arm and stopped in front of the members of the Hand. Two of the figures were bulky, clearly soldiers, but the figure between them was as slender as the saber she carried at her hip.
"You came," the woman said. "Brave? Stupid? Or just desperate?"
"It's quite obviously brave," Blays said. "If we'd been stupid, we wouldn't have thought to rig the rock you're standing on with bear traps."
The woman looked down sharply, jerking her right foot from the ground. As her bodyguards went for their swords, she relaxed and chuckled, lifting her hooded head. "You would be Blays Buckler. The necromancer's pet clown."
"I prefer to think of myself as his wrangler."
"Who are you?" Dante said.
"Me?" Her rapid, staccato accent was a match for Tanelo Itiego's, making Dante feel like he needed to lean forward to keep up with her. "I am the only person in this rotten city with the guts to stand up to the Itiegos. Do you have the blood to do the same?"
"Yes," Dante said hurriedly, cutting off Cord, who'd thrust her fist in the air in preparation to launch into a declaration of their unyielding courage. "But you still haven't told us who you are."
The woman flipped back her hood. The face she revealed was as smooth as glass. Her dark hair was swept behind her head, held in place by a silver pin. Her high cheekbones were an artist's dream. She looked no older than twenty, but her dark eyes bore the authority of an executioner's axe.
"I am Vita Osedo, House Osedo. The Houses of Cavana turned away your requests to speak because Tanelo owns them as firmly as he owns the spices within his ships. But he does not own me."
"And you speak for your father?" Dante said. "Or mother?"
"If I'm too young for you to trust, I will be happy to find someone closer to your age for you to do business with. Shall we head to the cemetery to find a proper candidate?"
A tall wave disemboweled itself on the rocks, spattering Dante with cold spray. "That won't be necessary. How can we help each other?"
Her expression warmed, however slightly. "Itiego can buy the other houses because he has the fortune to do so. Do you know how the Itiegos made this fortune?"
Boggs shrugged. "No secret about it. Spice trade."
"Every House trades spice. So how is it Itiego can buy so many other Houses? Because his family is the only one that trades this." She tossed a tiny glass jar at Boggs, who fumbled it, dropping to a crouch to catch it before it shattered on the rocks.
He unstoppered it, sniffed, then cocked his head. "Tallas?"
Dante blinked. Tallas was the most expensive spice in Narashtovik. And, as far as he knew, everywhere else. A pale blue powder that tasted like something between pepper and cinnamon, it was worth more than its weight in gold.
"The Itiegos are the only ones who know where it comes from," Vita said. "With the wealth it brought them, Tanelo's grandmother bought Cavana House by House. Fifty years later, Tanelo swept all of Alebolgia under his cloak."
Dante nodded. "You want to end his stranglehold on your city."
"I want to know where to find the tallas."
Blays folded his arms. "Crazy idea, but have you tried following his ships?"
Vita gave him a brief glance. "Theirs are the fastest on the seas. And they have the wealth to hire their own sorcerers. They destroy anyone who tries to get close."
"Ask one of their sailors, then. If they won't talk, apply rum and repeat as necessary."
"The sailors of the Tallas Route are chosen as children. Once they join their ship, they're never allowed on these shores again. When they finish their term, they're retired to a southern island." She took on a wry look. "Or that is what they're told. I assume it's easier—and safer—to kill them."
"Well, that sounds like the strongest retirement you can give them."
Dante was looking out to sea. He turned to find Vita staring at him. "We can get you the route," he said.
She lifted the outer corner of one brow. "How?"
"Leave that to us. Do you know what we wanted from Itiego?"
"You come in the company of Colleners. So you want one of two things: either for Cavana to turn away any Mallish warships that come to port. Or to learn everything we know about how to remove dust from one's clothes."
This drew a snort from Boggs, a bray from Cord, and a low chuckle from the Keeper.
"Correct," Dante said. "Itiego won't agree to stop the Mallish from landing here. We have to change his mind, or break his power. You think finding the source of the tallas will be enough to make that happen?"
Vita gestured to herself. "If I am the only woman in town, every man will fall to his knees if I so much as wink, utterly beholden to the rarity of my presence. But if the town holds as many women as men, who in his right mind will devote themselves to me like he is a slave? No one."
Dante wasn't sure that was strictly true, but he had the impression that if he said so out loud, she might push him into the waves. "We'll give you the Tallas Route. And you'll dethrone the Itiegos."
"In exchange, I close the port to Mallon?"
"Just their soldiers. Call it a threat to the sovereignty of your new and fragile confederacy. If you tried to shut their ships out completely, you might find yourself bludgeoned to death by copies of The Gold Road."
Vita smiled. The light it brought to her face didn't seem fair. "We have a deal."
"I wasn't done. One more thing: I want a cut of the tallas for Narashtovik. Three percent of whatever you bring back, sold to us at the cost of its acquisition. And another three for Collen."
She looked him up and down. "You speak like a Mallisher. But you bargain like an Alebolgian. I will offer you two percent each. And in coming years, you will marvel I was so generous."
He looked into her eyes and judged them unyielding. "Agreed."
They hashed out the details of how to stay in contact with one another, then went their separate ways. Dante sent his undead crabs up the trail to make sure no one was spying on or awaiting them, but the way was clear.
As they neared the city, a dense fog rolled in from the sea, smothering the town's lanterns and making everything feel vague and unreal. For half a moment, Dante's mind was certain there'd been an ambush after all—that he'd taken an arrow in the brain and died before he knew what was happening—and he was now in the Mists, the gentle afterlife where you made your peace before continuing on into the forever expanse of the Worldsea.
Except if that were true, he'd skipped right past the Pastlands. Meaning these weren't the Mists, but just an everyday (if pleasantly mysterious) fog.
Dante stopped, turning to the Colleners. "Did you agree with all of that horse-trading back there?"
Boggs shrugged. "If I'd have had a problem with it, you would have heard about it."
"I heard nothing but politics." Cord grinned. "Your responsibility, not mine. Wake me the next time there's a war to declare!"
"Thought I'd be
tter check," Dante said. "You guys didn't talk much."
The Keeper made a noise that might have been a laugh. "That is because you seem to like to speak for us."
"Vita seemed most comfortable negotiating with me. Besides, this is a good thing. If word gets out that you're meddling in Alebolgian affairs, you can blame it on Narashtovik."
"This is so. But the leaders of the newly free Collen will need to learn to handle their politics on their own."
This seemed so self-evident Dante didn't bother to respond. The streets of Cavana were damp with mist. Water condensed on the bare branches of trees and fell to the cobbles in a heavy and irregular rain.
By morning, the fog remained, slipping between houses and tumbling over roofs in little streams. Dante was going to eat in the inn's common room, but Blays had chatted up the locals and been bewitched by rumors of a legendary bakery and coffee house down by the piers.
The two of them ventured down the steep, slick streets. They could have found the shop by smell alone: the rich, almost scorched scent of coffee was even thicker than the fogs. Most of Alebolgia was built in pale stone, but the coffee house was constructed with dark brown bricks. Its roof was shaped into three thick cones.
The interior was an unusual mix of raggedy sailors, local merchants in respectable but unspectacular trousers and jackets, and nobles in their high boots and higher collars. Blays approached the bar and ordered two of their strongest brews spiked with a dollop of cream. The coffeewright turned to the stove and removed a pot that resembled a chunky copper hourglass. He poured two cups that were irritatingly small for the price Blays paid.
They took their cups out to the patio. It was nearly freezing, and the fog spoiled the view of the ocean, but that meant they were alone.
Blays took a seat and then a sip. He immediately slapped his hand to his mouth.
"Too hot?" Dante said.
"Stopping myself from drinking it all at once. This is the best thing I've ever tasted. We have to buy this."
"Are you drunk? We just did."
"Not the coffee." Blays motioned toward the building. "The house!" For a minute, the mist thinned enough to see the ships bobbing in the harbor. Blays nodded to them. "Speaking of consumables so delicious they'll drive men mad, how were you intending to find the Tallas Route?"
The Wound of the World Page 14