“I think I understand you,” I said. I also thought I wanted to hit him in the face, but not everybody appreciated knowing that.
“People need to know you’re genuine before they waste their time. The Silver Goose is a good walk from here, and I still have unfinished business with our friend. Assist me, and you’ll find that I’m a man of my word.”
“A self-confessed con artist,” I said.
He smirked. “Yes.” He carried the smugness of one who knew I had no other choice.
I sighed. “Even though I feel like I’m going to regret this—very well. Tell me what you need.”
“It’s easy,” he said, crossing his arms and walking around me. He paused for a moment to pat some dirt off my shoulder. “I just need you to return to the shop and confront our dear friend. We are, by the way, going to call him the mark from this point on.”
“Wait.” I held up my hand. “You want me to help you con him?” I couldn’t contain the note of outrage in my voice.
“Yes,” he continued cheerfully. “Please pay attention.”
“Was that why you were in his store in the first place?”
He pressed his lips together and ignored my question. “He also runs a pawnshop. When you go back in there, you are going to show him your empty purse and admit the truth to him—you didn’t have money, but you were too proud to say so. And then you are going to beg him to take this, instead.” He placed something in my palm.
I held it up against the light. It was a solid gold ring with a single gem in the middle. “This isn’t fake, is it?” I asked.
“You know your jewelleries well. No, it isn’t. It’s real enough—crafted in the village of Anjishing, near the base of the red cliffs. Don’t worry. You’ll feel less awful about this plan when I explain the rest of it to you.”
Chapter Four
The Ruse
The Jinsein and the Zarojo share one thing in common: you can’t really tell our ethnicity from looks alone.
There had been too many marriages between our people over the years. This man, the con artist, could’ve passed for a native Akkian—long-limbed, with sun-touched skin a shade darker than my own. But he also had narrow eyes that became thin lines when he laughed, the hallmark of a typical eastern Jinsein from a royal clan and a number of the Zarojo I have met. Despite the alarms that triggered in my head about what I knew about him so far—everything painted him as scum from the bottom rungs of Zarojo society—it was difficult not to notice how bright his face appeared when he smirked. I knew men who did it to deride, or for effect; he seemed to do it because he genuinely found something amusing. The contrast was confounding.
He was tall—almost half a head taller than me, and I am not a short woman, by any means. He also had the shadow of a beard, most prominent around his square jaw but creeping slightly up his cheeks, like he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to be clean-shaven or grow it out. His clothes were clean, but plain. That made sense. If he was going to commit a crime, he would want to be harder to describe.
I suddenly realized that I was about to commit a crime, too. The thought made me ill.
“Another strange thing about you: you haven’t asked me my name yet,” he said, as we sauntered past the damned fountain.
“I didn’t see the need for it,” I countered.
He stopped, rubbing the back of his head. He seemed to be thinking my words over. After a moment, he made a decision. “I’m Khine,” he said.
I nodded. “Hello, Khine. I hope that’s a fake name.”
“I see what you’re doing.” He glanced around. “I don’t think anyone can see us now, but I’ll let you go on your way.” He tipped his head towards me and drew back, turning on the next street corner and leaving me with nothing but my beating heart for company.
I turned in the opposite direction.
The dark street leading back to the shop felt like it went on forever. I found myself wondering whether Nor and the rest of my guard were busy looking for me, and getting angry that they haven’t found me yet. Even after Khine had explained the particulars of our little ruse, I still wasn’t sure what I felt about it. I knew I should just probably save myself the trouble and go straight to the city watch. They might bring me to The Silver Goose—if they believed me. After the last couple of hours, I was starting to doubt they would. Chances were good I would find myself in prison before the night was over, and the last thing I needed was news of my presence exploding throughout the empire.
I didn’t realize how easily fear could drive you to desperation, to do things you would’ve never thought you were capable of. In the next instance, I was at those doors again, pushing them open, bells spinning overhead. The shopkeep, the mark, looked up. It was too late to back out.
“I don’t have money,” I announced.
He leaned on the counter, waiting to see what else I had to say.
I shuffled towards him, wiping sweat from my face. I took the purse and opened it, showing him. A puff of dust exploding from it in the sunlight compounded the effect. “I used it all up. Gambling at Monkey Hands down by the square. I’m supposed to meet my husband at that restaurant tonight and he’d beat me senseless if he knew what I’d been doing all day.”
I saw his eyebrows twitch at my story.
I placed the ring on the counter. “Please. A man out on the street told me you were also a pawnshop, so I went all the way back here for your help. That’s my father’s. I could never dream of parting with it, but I…I can’t miss this dinner. I don’t want to have to explain why I missed it. Especially after I dressed up so nicely for him.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you went gambling,” the shopkeep said, but it was clear that he was already intrigued. He sidled over to take a closer look at the ring.
I wrung my hands together. “I get bored at home alone. I didn’t notice the time.”
“You don’t have children?”
I made a sound in the back of my throat. “I detest children.”
The shopkeep grunted. “You shouldn’t say such ill things. A child or two will keep you out of trouble, save you from your husband’s hand more often.”
I noticed him staring at my face. I remembered my assailant in the alley—the struggle must’ve left a bruise. I had wondered why it felt so swollen. I allowed myself to touch it self-consciously. “It’s…it’s none of your business. Will you give me money for that or not?”
“A hundred rean,” he said. “With twenty rean interest if paid by tomorrow evening. Fifty rean, if it takes the end of the week.”
“Highway robbery,” I said. “Even if that wasn’t a valuable heirloom, it should still give me five hundred, at least!”
“You just need the money to get to your husband tonight, don’t you?” he asked, peering at me.
I blinked. “Are you implying I intend to gamble it away? That’s—”
“You might. I know you types.”
“I will not leave my father’s ring in your hands for a paltry hundred rean. Do you think I’m an idiot? You might suddenly just close shop, and…”
He pulled a piece of paper out from under the counter and placed on the surface. There was ink on it already. He began scribbling something else—I craned my neck and realized he was writing down the description of the ring. “I run this business legally,” he said. He pushed the paper towards me, pointing at the bottom. “Sign there. I won’t run off with your ring. Ask around.”
“Two hundred rean,” I said. “A hundred interest, if I don’t pay you by the end of ten days.”
He took the ring and held it up to the window. “How bad are you at Monkey Hands?”
“I’m good at it, old man. I’d play you now if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”
“All right. I was just asking.” He sighed, returning the ring to the counter. He picked up the brush, scratched out the number, and placed two hundred instead. I took the brush from his hand, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed it as Biala Chaen.
&nb
sp; The name didn’t seem to mean anything to him. He blew the ink dry before going to the back room. He returned with a small chest, which contained a number of coins, and began counting them out to me. After we reached two hundred rean, I scooped them into my hands and straight into my purse.
I left ten rean on the counter. “For my directions,” I said.
He nodded towards the shop. “Buy something.”
“I don’t have time to…”
“Buy something,” he repeated, glowering at me.
I sighed. I browsed through the shelves, cringing at the price tags of each item before I finally stumbled on something that cost ten rean—a small, wooden figure of an armoured rok haize. I thought Thanh might like it. I placed it on the counter beside the coin.
“Thought you didn’t have children,” he said.
“I could pick something else,” I retorted.
He shrugged. He took the item, wrapped it in brown paper, and handed it back to me.
“Go straight down and you’ll see a fountain,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Take a right. Keep going until you hit the second intersection, and then you turn left. The restaurant is a few blocks away—you won’t miss it. It’s near Porlheng Bridge, by the canal.”
“Finally,” I grumbled. “Thank you.” I stepped out of the shop, just as Khine—who had swapped out his grey cloak for something in red, with golden cranes embroidered on the back—slid past. He barely glanced at me. My instruction was to leave him alone, so I did.
I returned to the fountain, wondering if he was going to succeed with his part. It didn’t matter, anyway. I knew how to get to The Silver Goose and needed neither of them now. If I wanted to, I could start running and reach my guards before they could both cause trouble for me. I could forget that this whole debacle ever happened.
I paused to adjust my shoes. Running through the alleys had left them with dust and mud streaks, hardly the sort of footwear you’re supposed to have on when meeting the Dragonlord of Jin-Sayeng. It was probably a good thing I didn’t consider Rai worthy of the title or it would have bothered me.
I heard footsteps.
“Madam!” The old shopkeep’s voice was unmistakable. “Madam!”
I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. “What now?”
He stopped, panting, and gestured at me for a moment while he caught his breath. He finally pulled himself up. He was holding the pawn agreement. “I would like to buy the ring from you instead.”
“No,” I said. “It’s my father’s.”
“Five hundred rean, like you said. I have the money here now. It’s worth that much—you said as much yourself.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I said at least, if we’re just talking about appraising it. I didn’t say anything about selling it. It’s all I have left of my father.”
“Six hundred,” he barked.
“Are you daft?” I asked. “Better yet, do you think I am?”
“Six hundred rean.”
“Why?”
He looked at me, aghast. “You…”
“Did something happen? Why do you suddenly want to buy it?”
“My…daughter, we are making marriage arrangements. A proposal,” he said quickly. “I just remembered. I don’t have…for a dowry, you see.” He pointed at the ring, not realizing he was babbling. “The make of this. Crafted in Anjishing, by the red cliffs. Rare enough to wow my potential son-in-law’s family. Money would not have quite the same impact.”
I pressed my lips together. “I don’t think so.”
“Seven hundred,” he said.
“Something happened,” I said. “That stranger in your shop…I’ll have to talk to him myself…”
“A thousand,” he gasped. “Please.” He thrust the papers into my hand.
I stood there, taking all of this in. What had happened? The man had been so proud inside his own store. To see him reduced to this…gibbering fool…was disconcerting for me. “A thousand,” I mumbled. “I could pay my gambling debts.”
He nodded helpfully.
I took a deep breath. “Very well.”
“Your father will forgive you,” he said as he counted the money out from his purse into mine. “If your husband learns of your gambling debts, he’ll be furious.”
“Oh,” I grunted. “Don’t even remind me.” The last coin clinked into my purse. It was now bulging. I placed it in my pocket and tore up the pawn agreement.
“Thank you for your business,” he said, turning away. I watched him walk down the street.
As soon as I saw his figure disappear into his shop, I ran.
~~~
Khine caught up with me two streets down. He had ditched the elaborate cloak and was clad as simply as when he had first caught up to me. Laughter burst from his lips. His eyes were shining, and something about that made me chuckle in return. “Brilliant,” he said, taking me by the arm and leading me down to an empty shop building. He drew the curtains closed. He turned to me and saw that his hand was on my waist. He dropped it and cleared his throat.
“That was…I didn’t think it would go so smoothly.” He couldn’t stop grinning. “The way he talked about you—you didn’t even give him space to be suspicious. How much did you get out of him?”
“A thousand rean,” I said, showing him the purse, which I quickly returned to my pocket. “But I won’t give it up until I get to where I need to go.”
“Right,” he said, clicking his fingers. He didn’t seem like he cared all that much about the money. He peered through the curtains, glancing down at the empty street. “We can’t go there right now, though. He’ll check The Silver Goose first. If he sees us together, it’ll blow this whole thing apart.”
I faked a sigh. “I knew it wouldn’t be this simple.”
“Might as well get comfortable while we wait,” Khine said. He pulled an empty crate to the side and sat on it, his elbows on his knees. His face was still beaming. I couldn’t help but smile back when he turned to me—his expression made it difficult to react in any other way.
“You’re pleased it all worked out,” I said.
He laughed again. “Yes. I didn’t think everything would fall so neatly into place. I’d spent weeks working on this. Weeks. Paid people to scout out the best shops, the ones where this would most likely work. You needed a shopkeeper who was both honest and greedy, but in just the right amounts. You don’t want someone who cheats his customers or he would be suspicious from the beginning—he’d had to be, if he does the same thing to others. But you don’t want him too honest, or he would’ve never taken the bait.” The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his plan reminded me of the way my old swordsmaster would get when he talked about the way they made blades in Darusu, the craftsmanship of it.
“What did you tell him back there, anyway?”
His smile deepened. “I pretended I had forgotten to buy something else on my way to a business meeting. I noticed that he still had the ring out on the counter, which was good. I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince him to take it out if it hadn’t been—express an interest in buying rings, maybe. I don’t know. But having it out there gave me a chance to point out, immediately, the rarity of such an object. I told him I had to have it, that my most beloved mother would appreciate such a gift from her village in Anjishing, which she has not been to since she was a child.”
“Your most beloved mother? He actually believed that?”
He ran a finger under his nose. “I also said she was dying.”
“Ah. Of course. The necessary detail.”
“You never question a dying woman’s wish, you know. Anyway, I offered two thousand rean on the spot.” Khine showed me his purse, which was heavy with enough coin to have convinced anyone. “He told me you had it pawned. I asked if he knew where you lived and started counting the money out in front of him. He turned to chase after you.”
“What would you have done if he had been less honest? What if he just sold you the ring outright?”
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“Brought the city watch in,” Khine said happily. “That’s why you need someone honest enough to have done the paperwork for you in the first place. Then I can claim that the ring was a fake, they’ll ask him where he got it from, and then they’ll discover that it was sold while under a pawn agreement. They’d have given me back my money, and since something like that would’ve invalidated your pawn contract, you could get the ring back and we’d at least be two hundred rean richer.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at his choice of words. “We?”
“We. Couldn’t have done it without you. I can give you part of our catch if you ask nicely.”
“You don’t even know my name yet.”
“I didn’t see the need for it,” he said as innocently as he could.
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was not lost on me. If you had told me yesterday I would be standing in an empty shack, having my words thrown back at me by a con artist and enjoying it, I would’ve called you a liar. Cut you down and thrown your head in the river, if my guards were around to add to it, the humourless bastards.
Perhaps it was only because I hadn’t had that sort of conversation in so long. There was no one in court I could speak to in such shameless fashion—no one I knew who relished the flow of banter, instead of minding their honorifics and caring only about walking away with head still attached to their shoulders. I stopped to catch my breath and realized that Khine was looking at me with an intensity that was almost frightening. “Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, breaking his gaze. The crinkle of humour in his eyes returned. “I was just wondering what you told him to get him to cough out a thousand rean. I didn’t ask you to haggle. I would’ve been happy with anything over five hundred.”
“I fed him a story about being a woman with a gambling problem, off to meet her husband before he decides to beat the living daylights out of her.”
“That’s…” He frowned. I caught him looking at the bruise.
The Wolf of Oren-yaro (Annals of the Bitch Queen Book 1) Page 6