The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2)

by Howell, Rob

  “How many sea turtles did your mother fuck to have a son so slow?”

  The object of his words let the curse flow off his back and continued strapping crates marked with odd symbols onto a wagon that creaked with the weight. Tired horses lipped treats from a teamster’s hand while they waited. Two hauberk-wearing guards laughed raucously at some private joke.

  Soon we had walked past Besnik’s to another caravansary, where the scene differed only in the details. We continued on that street, looping around and up to the base of the hill where the Heraclian Tower stretched upward many scores of feet.

  “We’ll come back after supper to see the sunset. We’ll have to fight through the crowds, but it’ll be worth it.”

  He was right. It was.

  Chapter 23

  Midday, 16 Blommemoanne, 1712 MG

  We returned to Timoshenko’s shop. This time we were prepared for the bright sun as we entered. At our arrival, he pointed at a small pile of unbleached linen cloth. Inside the cloth were my armrings.

  “You can have those back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I can arrange for distribution of one hundred per month.”

  “One hundred?”

  “Depending upon price. Those like you showed me are costly enough that I could not afford so many. But I suspect what you showed me were the best you had and that most of the ones we’d trade would cost significantly less.”

  I nodded and pulled out my most basic ring, gold with a wave pattern engraved upon it. “True. I’d guess most armrings would look more like this one.”

  Timoshenko examined it as thoroughly as the others.

  “I could not pay much more than 100 dinars apiece on these.”

  “The actual price will be determined by the shippers.”

  “They’ll sell to me? I’ll then resell at my price?”

  I nodded. “And you’ll pay me thirty percent of what you pay the shippers.”

  “Thirty percent? Are you mad? My wife would weep in front of the neighbors in shame at thirty percent. I couldn’t see more than five.”

  I laughed because Sebastijan had told me exactly how this discussion would proceed. “We’re going to haggle and end up at twenty percent. We both know it. I understand you Imperials like the sport, but I don’t. Let’s agree to twenty right now, or I find another jewel factor.”

  He glared at me. “I have half a mind to let you walk.”

  I turned to leave.

  “But I can accept twenty.”

  “Excellent.”

  I paused because Sebastijan had also told me what to do at this point. “One more thing.”

  “What,” he eyed me suspiciously.

  “I need to know how you’re shipping it eastward. At least to Anzhedonev.”

  “What! Anzhedonev? You don’t need to know that. You’ll be paid by that point.”

  “I need to know before going to my people and arranging the supply. They won’t ship without knowing.”

  “Why the hell would they need to know?”

  “Do you really need to know? You’re not handling the shipping yourself, are you? In fact, it would be best if I spoke to your shippers.”

  He had no answer but stared at me for a while. I made to leave, but he forestalled me again.

  “I need to ask. I can’t just confirm that right now. I can’t know until tomorrow. They might say no.”

  “Tomorrow.” I shook my head. “This is taking a long time.”

  “I can’t do faster, milord, I have to ask people who will ask people.”

  I looked at Sebastijan, who shrugged. “It makes sense.”

  I turned back to Timoshenko. “Fine. Tomorrow I’ll meet with your shippers, or at least their factors.”

  He shook his head at my oddity. “If they agree, milord, if they agree.”

  “Send word to me at the Westering Wind tonight.”

  He sighed again and nodded.

  Again, as we exited, Sebastijan led me to the right instead of returning straight to the Westering Winds.

  “Do we need to visit Besnik again? Timoshenko seems likely to help us.”

  “Yes, he does. Now we make arrangements in case he does.”

  “What arrangements?”

  Sebastijan sighed with a wry smile. “You are such a fool.”

  “Be that as it may, why are we walking across Lezh?”

  “We can go back, but you’ll be making a costly mistake.”

  I stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him. He took two paces before noticing and turned around. Others on the street eddied around me with half-breathed curses at my idiocy.

  “Trust me, Sevener.”

  I had to trust him, so I shrugged and caught up, and we walked across Crownstreet to a district filled with family shops. We walked into a bright and cheery building that, unlike every other shop along that street, contained no goods.

  “Sebastijan! Welcome, my lord, welcome! How my eyes have missed you. In what way can I humbly serve you?”

  “You always say humbly like it means what you think it means.”

  The woman who leaned back behind a table filled with rolled scrolls was short with broad shoulders. Her elaborate clothing fitted her exactly, and her hair rose in delicate braids. Jewels flashed in the light as her beringed fingers twisted a scroll closed.

  “Oh dear, Sebastijan. You do know how to wound me.” Her smile belied the words and Sebastijan laughed.

  “I’m sure we discover some way that I can provide recompense suitable to your humility.”

  Her return laugh brightened the room even further. “In that case, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, Pala, you can help my friend send a message.”

  “A message?”

  Sebastijan laughed at my confused question. “Yes. My Sevener friend wants to send a message to his homeland.”

  “I do?”

  Pala’s laughter tinkled lightly. “Your friend is lucky to have you to know his mind.”

  I shrugged with a smile. “I suppose I am. Now I hope I can be luckier still for him to explain my mind to me.”

  “Edward here needs to send to someone in the Seven Kingdoms to arrange to ship a hundred armrings to Timoshenko each month.”

  “I do?”

  Sebastijan nodded with a smile.

  “I can do that easily for a small fee.”

  “You want to actually set up the deal with Timoshenko?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you add up the numbers?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Let’s see, one hundred rings per month each earning about twenty dinars per month comes to something like two thousand dinars per month. Pala here will serve as your factor in Lezh. She’ll charge you twenty percent plus whatever expenses are incurred arranging the process of getting the rest to you. You’ll pay your factor in the Seven Kingdoms twenty percent plus his expenses. The maker of the rings will get his profit from selling the rings to the shipper, who’ll make his profit selling to Timoshenko. You’ll end up with something like eight hundred dinars per month after all the bribes and what not.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “You’re awfully free with what I’ll charge, Sebastijan,” laughed Pala.

  “Was I wrong?”

  “No, you’re exactly correct, though of course the expenses will change from time to time.”

  “You can close your mouth, Sevener.”

  I did. “But…”

  “Why do you think that Timoshenko is putting up with your demands? Because he stands to make a great deal of money. And so do you… if you give Pala here a message and a contact in the Seven Kingdoms.”

  Chapter 24

  Evening, 16 Blommemoanne, 1712 MG

  Sebastijan and I sat drinking wine in the Westering Winds. I was still sore, especially where I had been wounded, so I stretched along a bench with my back to a wall.

  “You’re confident your mother’s
cousin can arrange for the armrings?”

  I rolled my head along the wall to face Sebastijan’s grin. “If anyone can. He’s a Svellheimer like Ragnar, but he turned from raiding to trading decades ago.”

  “What are you going to do with all that money?”

  “I’ll tell you when it’s in my pockets. Ylli could stop all of this if we irritate him, and I can’t help but worry about Honker.”

  “Nothing happened in the two days after we left.”

  I lifted my head from the wall and stared at him.

  “Radovan will send a courier if something happens.”

  “He will?”

  “I gave him instructions.”

  “What if the courier is ambushed?”

  “That seems unlikely, as no courier would look like the two of us.”

  Another unpleasant thought occurred to me. “What happened to the ambushers?”

  “I’ve been thinking about them too. We probably should have prepared for them this morning, though I calculated they could not have arrived in Lezh until tonight as the earliest.”

  “Calculated?”

  “The Bujerruge is half a day shorter than Crownstreet. Also, they were waiting for us down the road, and Katarina told us that no one reacted in anger at our turn, so they would have waited at least a day before giving up their ambush. Probably two.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “We were lucky today, though, because if they had a watcher at the gate, it could have been as short as a day to go out and come back with the rest of the ambushers this morning.”

  I sipped my wine and grimaced.

  “You think they’re in Lezh and will attack us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But it’s best to be prepared. I’ll wear my armor tomorrow.”

  “You might mention it to Dardan, too.”

  “An escort?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  I nodded. Veteran wisdom is veteran wisdom. “But we don’t want them with us at Timoshenko’s.”

  “I suspect that Dardan can arrange a subtle escort. He’s a conniving Dassaretae after all.”

  “Probably so.”

  I waved Dardan over and explained what we needed.

  “I can do that.” He refilled our cups with his ever-present wine jug.

  “You won’t see a thing, unless of course you’re needing my lads and lasses. And I’ll make sure my people are paying attention while you’re under the Westie’s roof.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank Vukasin.”

  “I will.”

  He left and wove his way through customers, stopping briefly to refill wine or grab plates and cups.

  An hour later he returned, gesturing with the wine jug at a gawky teenager by the door. The teenager’s eyes focused oddly, his hands curled naturally almost like claws, and he had blond, lanky unkempt tendrils of hair that flashed oddly in the tavern lights.

  “That lad’s here for you.”

  “Bet Timoshenko sent his boy as the courier.”

  “Send him over.”

  Fatigue hid whatever nervousness he might have had at talking to us. When he got close, I realized he was covered in metal dust, causing the odd reflections.

  “My father told me to tell you to come at midday. Those you wish to meet will be there then.”

  “Thank you.”

  Without pause, barely acknowledging my thanks, he turned away and headed out the door.

  Sebastijan raised an eyebrow at me. “Quite the talker.”

  “He said enough, and frankly I’m too tired to require any great conversation tonight. I think it’s time for sleep. I’ll need my wits about me in the morning.”

  “That you will, Sevener. That you will.”

  Chapter 25

  Midday, 17 Blommemoanne, 1712 MG

  We walked to Timoshenko’s shop with the sun hovering over us like a falcon waiting for her prey. Quite possibly the hottest day I had ever endured, and my armor’s scales shimmered viciously. My tunic, soaked with sweat, stuck and chafed as the linen grabbed at me.

  The harshest Periaslavlan winter days beckoned in my dreams as a paradise.

  When we arrived, a large number of armed men awaited us. I tried to casually lay my hand upon my sword’s hilt, but their leader noticed and tensed in return.

  “Careful, Edward,” muttered Sebastijan.

  I nodded slowly, and while I did not relax, I moved my hand away from my hilt.

  “You’re the Sevener that Timoshenko’s negotiating with?”

  I nodded again.

  Though he had lost most of his hair, the leader of the troop before Timoshenko’s shop clearly had not lost his skills. He moved easily in his hauberk of riveted links, seemingly oblivious to the heat. His hands held his spear as mine would have, and no rust dotted any of his gear.

  While his troops were neither so well-arrayed nor so well-kept as he was, they all looked to have felt their blades slide out of a collapsing body a time or two.

  “We’re to escort you to those you wished to speak with.”

  “Good.”

  “We’ll be at your back should either of you draw your blades when you shouldn’t.”

  “I guessed you would be.”

  “Then I guess you won’t be stupid.”

  “Any stupider than standing in this sun in armor? No, I guess I won’t be either.”

  With a light smile, he motioned and four of his men took the lead. We marched through Lezh, ultimately climbing the hill to the north, overlooking the main city.

  The houses here reminded me of those near to the Gropa Mansion. All large, all built of gleaming marble or granite, all arrogantly expecting everyone who saw them to admire their beauty.

  The troop led us to one that, while no less lovely, eschewed materials besides limestone. As we approached, I realized that architectural decision was purely tactical. I would not want to assault this mansion without siege machines whose existence I had only seen in Bedarth’s many books.

  The foyer of the mansion seemed as luxurious as any of its owner’s neighbors would expect, with shining mosaics on its walls, floor, and ceiling. A pleasant scent I did not recognize caressed the room lightly.

  However, our troop led us through a small door immediately to the right instead of further into the mansion, where marble floors, elegant statues, and bright floral arrangements awaited guests worthy of such opulence. Sebastijan and I clearly did not qualify.

  The room we entered contained none of that splendor. A plain, sturdy table of oak stretched down the middle of the room. The chairs around it were also plain and sturdy. The walls held intricate tapestries woven in strange yet attractive geometric designs. The tapestries seemed odd decorations in such a utilitarian room.

  Two women and two men sat at one end of the table on the left side. With no wasted motion, our escort’s leader directed us to chairs opposite them.

  One of the women, tall with short-cropped hair and eyes greener than the Bardheküülle’s lawn, stared at us calmly.

  “My name is Era.”

  “I am Edward, son of Aethelred.”

  She stared at me for a long moment before continuing. “Timoshenko says you offer a contract that will benefit all of us. He says, however, that you will only fulfill this contract if you speak to us.”

  I nodded.

  “We do not know you. We do not know why you wish to complicate what should be a simple business agreement. Such complications make us suspicious. Explain to us why we should not deal with you as our suspicions suggest we should.”

  “I come from Middlemarch in the Seven Kingdoms. In truth, I had intended to pass through this land and already be at the Great City, but circumstances have intruded. During these circumstances, I retained Sebastijan’s services. He told me that the armrings that I earned from my lords would be valuable here as exotic jewelry. My mother’s cousin, Steinarr, is an experienced trader and can arrange shipping them here.”

  �
��We know this. This would be simple business arrangement beneficial to all. You have explained not why you wish to speak to us.”

  “It’s related to those intruding circumstances I mentioned. I have run afoul to some degree with a particular person, and I wish to ensure he does not profit.”

  “Who do you wish to remove from the arrangement?”

  “Gibroz. I am told that he controls all shipping across the lakes to Anzhedonev and the far east.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I am told that you might have ways around the lake trade and therefore could ship my armrings without any of the money going to Gibroz.”

  “What has he done to anger you so greatly that you risk our suspicions by cutting him out?”

  “His thugs attacked me in the street two months ago, for one thing. Rather than bore you with a list of the other reasons, let’s just say I’m tired of his fuckin’ language.”

  The other three briefly smiled at that. Era did not.

  “You think we would risk conflict with Gibroz over such a small amount as your armrings would mean to us?”

  “Yes. If you are affiliated with who I believe you to be.”

  “Who do you think I am affiliated with?”

  “I believe you are one of Ylli’s lieutenants.”

  I had forgotten the armsmen standing at my back until I felt a sudden stillness behind me.

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, I am told that Ylli and Gibroz routinely compete for every scrap they can glean from the shipping routes that go through Lezh and Achrida.”

  “Who has told you this?”

  “Vukasin Mrnjavcevic.”

  “Vukasin? The zupan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would he help you?”

  “I did him a favor recently.”

  “What favor?”

  “Who would you rather contest with, Pal or Vesela Gropa?”

  She looked at me quietly. Her subordinates nodded slowly.

  “So. You have a powerful patron.”

  I shrugged. “A powerful friend, yes, but not, I think, a patron. And a new friend at that.”

  “He provided you with much information, apparently.”

  “Yes, but it is not his wagons and ships that my rings will travel upon.”