by Jb Mcdonald
A child leaned out one upper window, spotted them, and ran back inside. A moment later, three children were jostling for space, watching them.
"What," Eddie said just loud enough for them to hear over the bustle of the city, "is going on?"
Katsu's response was terse, and for a moment Ashe thought he heard Katsu's rare accent coloring the words. "Me. I'm going on."
Ashe glanced over, but still saw only Katsu, his lips a thin line and his eyes staring hard ahead. "I don't even get this much of a reaction," Ashe said with exasperation.
Eddie lifted one shoulder in a shrug. The arrows across her back rose and fell in their capped case, drawing attention in a silent warning. "There're a lot more elves around here than there are people who look like Katsu."
They fell silent then, their pace slowing with traffic as they fought their way deeper into the city. Crowds forced them into single file once more, Katsu cursing as he nearly lost the pack horse.
"There has to be at least a thousand people living here," Eddie said.
"I'd guess three or four thousand," Ashe murmured. More people were looking at Katsu, nodding toward him from small groups. Even the crowd couldn't hide him, not as tall as he was on horseback. "Where is your merchant?" Ashe asked, yelling over the sound of a fight spilling out of a brothel.
"Two blocks. A left and then right at the Red Horse Inn," Katsu answered. He didn't bother yelling, but he didn't need to; Ashe's sensitive hearing picked it up.
Two blocks, everyone staring at them the whole way, to a merchant who dealt in the rare and expensive and occasionally illegal. Even Nate, mercenary that he was, said Byron wasn't trustworthy. Ashe couldn't imagine that someone like that would appreciate having attention drawn to him by possible sellers. "Dismount," Ashe called, stopping his horse. He swung up and over, landing lightly as Katsu dropped out of sight as well. Katsu was short; at least being on foot would keep him out of the public's notice.
They led their horses forward, Ashe taking point with Eddie bringing up the rear.
"We're supposed to meet at the Gentleman's Corner," Katsu said.
Ashe forced his way through the crowd. "Better idea," he called back. "Let's go to the Griffon and Dragon." He could see the sign up ahead and windows in the second story; rooms for let above a tavern, he'd guess. A stable was just a few buildings down.
Katsu's mutter would have been too quiet for human ears: "Now that's a name just asking to be attacked..." Louder, he added, "We'll end up late. I'd rather not spend more time in this city than we have to."
Ashe ignored Katsu, walking up to the stable and handing his horse off to the ostler. Greasy-haired and spotted, the boy didn't inspire confidence. "Leave them tacked up," Ashe told him, tying an ill-luck charm around the pommel of his saddle to ensure it wasn't tampered with. Eddie had another, but Katsu only looked askance at the strips of symbol-covered cloth. With a grimace, Ashe pulled out his coin purse, dropping three coppers into the boy's hand, then holding a fourth and fifth up between thumb and forefinger. "Two more, if my companion's horses remain untouched."
The boy nodded, big eyes riveted on Ashe's coins. "We keep 'em safe, sir."
"I bet you do," Ashe muttered. He wouldn't be surprised if half the equine occupants here went home without their shoes.
"What are you doing?" Katsu growled as they turned, Ashe leading them toward the tavern.
"We need to talk strategy," Ashe murmured back. Eddie's gaze was as quick and keen as his own, tracking the crowd, marking who paid attention to their little group and who didn't care. She was the one to find the quickest way to the tavern, elbowing one man aside before they reached the door.
Inside was far quieter than outside. They paused in the doorway, Katsu glowering, Eddie and Ashe both scanning the room. A fireplace on one end, the kitchens on the other. Girls bustled in and out the doors, wearing dresses or trousers covered with heavy aprons. Only one of them seemed to be serving the tavern; the others whisked away up a set of stairs or carried buckets of steaming water toward a back door.
The tables and benches were about a third full. Eddie pointed to a corner with a rickety table and two chairs, and Ashe gripped Katsu's elbow to steer him through. It said something, Ashe thought, that Katsu didn't protest the manhandling. Katsu was stiff beside Ashe, tendons standing out in his neck.
Even Ashe felt eyes lingering on his four-fingered hands, unusual height, and pointed ears. Only Eddie didn't seem to draw any looks. Plenty of women in trousers, but not many elves seen in these parts, Ashe suspected. They'd probably never seen someone with skin as golden-brown as Katsu's.
Katsu sat properly in a chair. Ashe whipped his around to straddle it, and Eddie grabbed another from a nearby table.
"I'd rather not stay for lunch," Katsu muttered, hard eyes leaping from one point in the room to the next as if he couldn't quite decide where danger might come from.
"I agree, but I think we need to reconsider our strategy," Ashe countered. "I don't know about the rest of you, but something doesn't feel right to me."
Katsu said nothing, but Eddie murmured an agreement. "This merchant you're meeting," she began. "Nate said he wasn't to be trusted. In a town like this, where they seem to think you're something unusual--"
"You can't go to meet him," Ashe finished for her, likely more bluntly than she would have.
Eddie looked pained, but nodded.
Slowly, Katsu sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his lean chest. "And what do you think we should do instead? Exactly what do you think will happen to me if I'm there? Right now, my biggest concern is not getting paid." One eyebrow twitched upward. "Which is looking more and more likely."
Ashe leaned forward, elbows on the table, and spoke quietly to make his point. "My biggest concern is the very active slave trade in this province, the fact that this merchant deals in rarities -- and that everyone is staring at you."
Katsu shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Eddie. Still, he said nothing.
"I can deal for you," Ashe said. "Tell me what the eggs are worth, I'll collect the money and meet you two back here in an hour or so."
Katsu glanced at him, then away, at Eddie. "You agree with him? Am I really in that much danger?"
Eddie hesitated, then nodded. "I think Ashe probably has the best idea."
Katsu looked upward, words pouring from in him an undertone. Words Ashe didn't understand at all, and Ashe knew a fair number of languages. "Have you ever negotiated for a sale?" Katsu asked, pinning Ashe with fathomless black eyes.
Ashe considered lying just so Katsu wouldn't argue, then finally shook his head. "But if you tell me--"
"Nine hells. Someone order some lunch, and send a messenger to Byron so he knows we've been delayed. We need to discuss what, exactly, to expect and what, exactly, to say."
Ashe relaxed. It might not have been gracious, but it was agreement. He hadn't expected it to be that easy; maybe Katsu was more tense than he seemed.
A moment later the tavern girl arrived. While Ashe listened to Katsu's terse preparations, Eddie ordered food and asked for a courier.
***
Ashe dismounted outside the Gentleman's Corner, an even bigger building than the semi-respectable tavern where he'd left Katsu and Eddie. The Gentleman's Corner didn't look like a tavern, or at least, not any tavern Ashe had ever seen. The building was too grand, with doormen standing outside and liveried footmen retrieving carriages. Nate had briefed them before they'd separated from the other mercenaries, warning them that the building rich merchants did business in was practically a fortification in itself. They didn't want to be bothered with things like interruptions or robbery of their expensive wares.
Ashe gestured for the liveried man who took his reins to wait before taking his horse away, then untied the cushioned bag of eggs he'd gotten off the packhorse and opened it one last time to look inside.
They all sat piled on top of each other with straw between. He'd had to repack them to fit into one set of sadd
lebags, which meant much less cushioning. Still, they seemed to have survived the trip. All except the one Katsu had given him as payment, that was, which was safe with the other mercenaries and a few belongings he wouldn't risk being stolen in a city.
Finally certain that the eggs had come to no harm, he stepped up to the door, guarded by a man in black and red. "Ashe. Here for Byron Tackalle." The name was unfamiliar on his tongue, with hints of another language. He hoped he'd said it right.
The man bowed once and opened the door for him, holding it and whispering in the ear of yet another servant inside. That man bowed and headed down the opulently decorated hall.
"You may wait here," the doorman said and stepped back outside.
Ashe didn't have long to stand waiting in the entryway. The servant who had left returned, beckoned, and led him around a corner and down a door-lined hall. He could catch snatches of conversations here and there below the level of human hearing, once a growl that sounded distinctly animal-like, several cries of passion. Apparently gentlemen were willing to pay good money to be undisturbed. His mind whirled, imagining all the illicit liaisons that were probably happening.
Finally, after wending through several corridors, the servant opened a door and bowed again.
Ashe stepped through, feeling dusty and grungy in his riding gear. He hadn't had a chance to bathe in the last few days, and he'd only repaired some of his braids. Though even his braids made him feel wild; the populace here all seemed to sport closely cropped hair.
He pulled his thoughts back to the task at hand, spotting and discounting the two servants in the room. Dressed as footmen, they had the musculature of swordsmen and the stillness of predators.
The room had two doors; the one through which Ashe had entered, and a door nearly hidden by a long tapestry tucked back into one corner. The furniture was heavy wood: a table and comfortable chairs on a plush carpet in the middle of the room. Along the far wall were cages closed with heavy chain and padlocks, their contents ranging from piles of shimmery cloth to an actual griffon prowling back and forth behind iron bars. Ashe blinked at it several times; it had to be a juvenile. But to have one captive at all...
A few of the cages were empty, and a few more covered with heavy cloth. He wondered what was inside those.
Finally, he brought his eyes to the merchant waiting for him, pouring two glasses of brandy. Byron Tackalle was lean and as richly dressed as his surroundings. Long, dark hair was tied neatly back at the nape of his neck, spilling down the outside of a perfectly fitted coat.
"Drink?" Byron asked, lifting one glass toward Ashe.
Ashe walked across the carpet, treading lightly so as not to dislodge all the travel dirt from his boots onto it. "Thank you." He set the saddlebags down carefully, then reached across and took the snifter.
Byron sipped, eying him. "You aren't what I expected."
Ashe guessed that meant he was filthier than Byron had expected. "Just rode in this morning. I don't have long, so I didn't bother to find a room at an inn." Ashe grinned. "At least it's dry out, and I'm not tracking mud."
A smile touched the thin line of Byron's mouth, but didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. I also meant I wasn't expecting an elf. We don't get many of your people this far east."
"More dwarves," Ashe agreed, remembering the cluster of them at the gates. "Your country trades pretty well with them, and there's quite the population along the eastern border. But farther north there's land disputes, and things aren't too friendly between our races. With the exception of us wanderers, there's not much overlap between elves and dwarves." He stopped speaking purposely, reminding himself that neither Nate nor Katsu chattered when they were nervous. They'd be calm and collected, even in opulence like this.
Byron nodded politely and gestured to a chair. "Please. Sit. If you haven't much time here, we should begin business."
Ashe pulled out a chair and sat, bracing himself. This was the hard part. Nate negotiated for the team. Katsu always did his own negotiating for medical supplies. Ashe knew his weakness was the human obsession with gold, but he had an idea of how much Katsu expected for the eggs, and when to walk away, and a script to follow getting there -- but only if Byron didn't have any surprises. Nate didn't trust him; that spoke volumes.
Ashe sipped his brandy to wet his throat, glanced once more at the exits -- each guarded by a swordsman-cum-servant -- and folded his hands in front of him on the table. That, at least, would keep him from fidgeting. Katsu had expressly told him not to fidget.
Byron actually looked comfortable, lounging back in his chair, framed by cages containing riches. "What is your asking price?"
Ashe took a deep breath and spoke as firmly as he could. "One-fifty gold." Gold, Katsu had reminded him, was usable no matter which country you were in.
"For all of them?"
He snorted, relaxing at a question that seemed absurd even to him. "Per egg."
"I'll give you six hundred gold for the bunch."
Ashe sat back, sprawling out. This was going to be easier than he'd expected: Katsu had told him to walk for anything less than twelve hundred. In fact, Katsu had said it was unlikely they'd sell them all, and that getting a hundred apiece for them, if Byron didn't want the whole bunch, would be good.
So far it was going exactly like Katsu had predicted. "There are fifteen eggs here. I'm not taking six hundred gold."
Byron spread his arms as if to encompass everything behind him. "You see the extent of my riches. I'm afraid I simply don't have as much gold as you'd like. Eight hundred."
He'd bet piss there was more gold than that around here. "Two thousand."
At the way Byron sat up straight, he guessed two thousand was probably high. "Two thousand," Byron said frostily, "is out of the question. Nine hundred, and I'll offer you trade."
Katsu had said Byron would probably try something like this. Ashe relaxed enough to grin, showing off slightly pointed canines. It wasn't so hard to bargain -- at least, not when he knew what his script was. He kicked his feet onto the tabletop, dust puffing off his boots. With one hand, he picked up his brandy and sipped, swirling it around in the glass first.
"Nineteen hundred," he countered. "No trade." Wouldn't Katsu be impressed if he got more than the minimum!
Byron hesitated, then covered any ire with a smile and relaxed. "I see we are at an impasse. Perhaps we should discuss what we each desire, so we may each walk away best pleased."
Ashe's mind skipped ahead, embracing the game. What did Katsu want as the ultimate goal? To be rid of them. A great, big pile of money. Maybe some herbal junk, but Ashe had no idea what kind.
Mostly, a great, big pile of money.
What Ashe wanted was what Ashe always wanted: to get some attention and have a little fun. So far, Byron was helping him quite a bit at both.
It took them almost an hour to come to some kind of agreement, with Ashe offering virtually no help at all to poor Byron. It was subtle, but he could see the annoyance he garnered.
"Thirteen hundred is a higher price than I'd like to pay," Byron said, standing finally, "but I can see you won't go any lower. I don't have that kind of gold here. I'll have to send to the bank for a draft. You understand, I'm sure."
Ashe nodded, feeling rather magnanimous. "Of course. Silly to keep piles of gold here." Thirteen hundred! They could practically retire on that! Or Katsu could -- Ashe was privately glad he wouldn't have to carry around big piles of money. It took up entirely too much space.
Byron stood, walking to a sideboard and pulling out paper and a pen.
That any merchant had the kind of money they'd been talking about was amazing. Or at least, Ashe thought it probably was: he didn't really know any other merchants. Regardless, Katsu had told him it was unlikely they'd sell all the eggs; they'd been aiming for five at least. Ashe congratulated himself. He must be a hell of a negotiator! He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.
The world did one slow revolution.
&nb
sp; "We don't get many elves around here," Byron commented, writing something at the sideboard in the corner. A note to the bank, Ashe assumed.
"You said that earlier." Ashe sat up. Too much brandy. His glass was empty; he remembered it being refilled at least once. Byron's was empty, too.
"They're quite in demand, over the Kashlilian Sea."
"I'm sorry?" Ashe asked, confused. "They?" His mind slogged through his thoughts with great effort. He turned slowly. One of the guards at the door was gone.
"Costs a pretty penny to ship them over, you know. It's almost not worth the price." Byron turned to face him, waving the parchment as ink dried. His gaze was considering.
The world lurched again. Ashe stood carefully, planting his feet to make sure they remained under him. As slowly as his brain was working, he could still tell there was something wrong. "I'll take that and be going."
"More worth the price when they come carrying fifteen dragon eggs." Byron smiled. "That's worth a great deal."
The Kashlilian Sea was eastward, deep over the border where elves rarely went. The slave trade thrived eastward. It was said that the island lords kept unusual creatures and prided themselves on having the rarest of people as captive servants -- or slaves.
Ashe leaped for the unguarded door. The world wasn't quite where he expected it to be, though. He stumbled, dropping hard to one knee. Something caught his hair, yanking his head up, and a moment later a cloth whipped over his head and across the lower half of his face. He twisted. A knee came down in the small of his back, pinning him in place. The ground melted away from him. He had no purchase to fight.
"Don't struggle," Byron said calmly, still across the room. "Takes a while for the drugs to kick in on your kind, but once they do, they stick pretty well. Here I was expecting someone a little more exotic -- but a little less susceptible in the long term."