by Jade Mere
“Don’t,” Tahki warned. “Don’t even start with me.” His eyes traveled to the order details. He picked up the paper and read it over. The contents of the list surprised him: Graphite, pyrite, magnetite, olivine, dundasite, bornite, augite, celsian, epidote, calcite, kaolinite, quartz, zippeite, vauxite, abernathyite, brookite, gummite, and at least a hundred more had been scrawled across several pieces of paper.
“I think you should leave it alone,” Sornjia said.
“Gale won’t be back until late. She won’t be able to deliver this until tomorrow.”
“Tahki, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t deliver the order yourself.”
“What makes you think I’d do that?”
“You have that look in your eye.” Sornjia leaned forward. “I know you want the people here to like you. You want to prove yourself.”
“We owe it to Gale for all she’s done for us,” Tahki said. “And yes, I’d like Dyraien to come to me for important tasks too. Is that so wrong? Gale said Dyraien never visits her. Ever. These order details must be crucial to our success.” He remembered how Dyraien had laughed at the idea Tahki might deliver the details himself. He wanted both Dyraien and Rye to trust him.
“Dyraien said he wanted Gale to deliver them. He seemed adamant about it,” Sornjia said.
“Because he trusts her. He doesn’t trust me.”
Sornjia sighed. “Why do you have to do everything yourself all the time?”
“That’s what being an adult is. It’s independence. It’s being able to do things on your own without help.” Tahki scooped up the money and stuffed the order details into his pocket. Before Sornjia had a chance to protest, or to foresee some dark thing in his future, Tahki was out the door, heading back to the castle.
TAHKI STRUGGLED to saddle a gingoat. Rye had shown him how, but it was still difficult. He rode fire camels back home, but the servants always prepared the animals for travel. It didn’t help that the creature fought with him now. Every time he walked around her front, she snapped at him. After twenty minutes of curses and struggling with leather, he managed to get on the animal and set off. A light drizzle fell, the fog bank in the distance a familiar sight. He hadn’t realized how vibrant the sands back home had looked. The castle here seemed to be caught in a perpetual drear. The road crept along the beach’s edge for miles. He would have gone faster, but even at a slow pace, the saddle bruised his rear and his hands blistered from holding the leather reins.
Three hours after he’d left the castle, Tahki rode into town, sore and thirsty. Boats bobbed up and down on the gray sea. The scent of fish attached itself to everything, so thick and pungent Tahki gagged. He didn’t understand how anyone could live in a town that reeked like this. Wooden buildings, most weathered by the salty air, closed in tight around him. They all looked scraped together with things that had washed up on shore or parts of other buildings that had been demolished. A series of wooden walkways and planks connected the buildings, as though the inhabitants expected the streets to flood. Steam rose from the cracked cobblestone street. Damp heads glanced up as he rode by. The townsfolk walked at an oppressively slow pace. They all looked so pale or red-faced. He hadn’t felt out of place at the capital, but here, he felt exposed. Men and women pulled their dark coats around them, like they wanted to blend into one another, like buying potatoes at the market was a crime. It felt odd to be among so many people again. So many dark eyes darting his way. Was it because he looked like a foreigner, or an easy target, or both?
He tried to avoid eye contact. The market looked so different from the one back home. There were no bright silks hung or merchants competing for his attention or cups of curry shoved in his face. Most of the stalls sold colorless fish. The largest shop sold shiny pistols, the only new-looking things in town. He rode close to one shop with wood planks over the windows. The sign outside read Jaraloine’s Brothel. The doors opened for a woman with a hood pulled close around her neck, and the rich scent of perfume stuck thick in his nose. He coaxed his gingoat to move faster.
He wasn’t sure where to go but saw a white arrow painted on the side of a building with the words Gambling House below it. It pointed down an alleyway. Dyraien had said Zinc owned a gambling house, and in a small town like this, how many of them could there be?
After dismounting, he found a place to hitch his gingoat. A few other mounts had been tethered to the pole. Then he made his way down the alley, the drizzle soaking him, his heart pounding a little faster than he would have liked. The gambling house wasn’t a shop, he discovered, but a series of underground tunnels that ran below the town like a mouse’s maze. He found the entrance near a sewage outlet by the beach. He smelled smoke and ale and another warm, salty scent he couldn’t place. The tunnel was made of stone and dirt. He swallowed and walked down the throat of the cave. It was lit by a series of green-glowing lightning roots that flickered with every gust of wind that swept behind him.
The first door he came to appeared on his right. He took a deep breath, felt in his pocket for the money and order details, and then knocked. The sensation to run overtook him. Maybe he could find Gale in town, give her the orders, but the door flew open before he could change his mind.
The man’s face looked ominous under the dim light. He wasn’t old, early thirties maybe, but he had a roughness about him that gave Tahki pause. His hair was shaved close on his head. The corners of his mouth pulled a little too far up his face. A series of white scars ran down his left arm. His tongue dodged in and out of his mouth as he spoke.
“You one of Jaraloine’s?” He spoke in a drawl, the kind of accent Tahki identified as southern Vatolok. “Because I asked for a girl.”
Tahki frowned. “Dyraien sent me. I have order details. I’m looking for Zinc.”
The man clicked his tongue and gave Tahki a slow look up and down. “D said he’d be sending Gale. You don’t look like a Gale.” The top buttons on his shirt were undone, and sweat gleamed off the black hairs along his chest. His neck looked thick and out of proportion with his body, and his jaw pointed a little too steeply.
“My name is Tahki. I’ve come in Gale’s place.”
“Tahki,” Zinc said. Tahki wished he hadn’t told him his name. He didn’t like the way it slithered through Zinc’s lips. “Sounds southern. Very southern, when you say it twice. Didn’t know D employed so far below the border.”
Tahki clenched his jaw. “Are you Zinc?”
“At your service.” His words sounded cold, unwelcoming.
Tahki shoved the paper toward him.
Zinc didn’t take them. “Snippy, ain’t you? Order’s in here.” He walked backward with a slight limp. Tahki hesitated and then followed. Once in the room, his insides clenched. He plunged his left hand into his pocket and touched his mother’s pencil for reassurance. He hadn’t felt this much apprehension since he’d crossed the border.
The room was as large as a tavern. No windows, just dirt and rock walls and a bar with dying lightning roots on the counter. Men and women in leather coats drank and smoked at circular tables, playing dice games and shuffling cards. Some of the tenants looked dazed, like they’d just woken from a long nap. They swayed in their seats or held their arms up to the ceiling. A woman sprawled her body across the floor. Another woman sat beside her and stroked her hair.
A child sat under one table, picking at a bowl of almonds. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. Seeing her among the sweaty, drunk inhabitants gave him the sudden urge to grab her and run. Neither of them belonged here.
“This way,” Zinc said. He pulled back a dark curtain and Tahki stepped inside a smaller room. The walls were lined with material samples and minerals, some of which he knew were rare and illegal to mine. An old woman in ragged gray clothing shuffled over to them. She held out her hand.
“Order list,” Zinc said. He took a tin from his pocket and stuck a piece of what looked like brown tar in his mouth.
; Tahki handed over the list. The old woman took it without a word, read it over, and then gathered samples from the wall. She handed them to Tahki along with a small chisel and hammer. He assumed she meant for him to check the quality. He tapped every sample, held one to his ear, smelled a few. He had no idea what he was doing, and for the first time since reading the order list, questioned why Dyraien would need these minerals.
“Nice, ain’t it?” Zinc said between chews. He gave Tahki a toothy brown grin.
“Yes, this is fine,” Tahki said. He tried to sound authoritative as he handed Zinc the money.
“Right, right,” Zinc said. “So you have two hundred notes here. That will get you about half your order.”
Tahki frowned. “Two hundred notes should cover everything.”
“Say again?”
“Dyraien gave me two hundred notes for the entire list, not half.”
Zinc cracked his neck from side to side. “You tryin’ to play me, kid?”
“What? No. No playing.” Tahki wished he hadn’t given him the money. Maybe Dyraien had made a mistake in his calculations.
Zinc spat a black glob on the floor. Some of it splattered on the old woman’s bare feet, but she didn’t seem to care. “You think I don’t know how to do math? D and I go way back. I know what he wants and how much he pays. I’m not the kind of man you want to ex-asberate.”
Tahki raised a brow. “Do you mean exasperate?”
“I know what I said.”
“Look, I’m not leaving until you honor my order,” Tahki said. Zinc clearly wasn’t very intelligent. He must have made some calculation error.
Zinc studied him and then threw his head back and smacked himself on the forehead in a dramatic fashion. “I get it. D didn’t tell you how this works.”
“How what works?”
Zinc moved close to him. Too close. His breath smelled like rotten fish as he exhaled in wet, hot waves. “D comes here all the time, buys some supplies and wins the rest.”
“Wins the rest?”
“Sure, sure. Everyone who comes here plays the game. It’s the only way we do business. D didn’t tell you? See, you take your two hundred notes, bet the money in the rings, win more. It’s the only way D can afford it. You know those slimy council bitches back at the capital actually limit his funds? If he withdraws too much, they become suspicious. And we don’t want them finding out about D’s poor mad mother, do we?” He cooed with a kind of forced patience, the veins on his neck sticking out a little as he spoke.
Tahki stared, stunned. Dyraien had said only Rye and Gale knew about the queen’s madness, no one else. Did that mean Zinc also knew about the project? He didn’t seem like the type of man Dyraien would trust.
“You look confused,” Zinc said with forced sympathy. “Here, let me show you.”
Zinc pushed Tahki through the curtain. He maneuvered him around the room, stepping over several people until they found a large table with a group of men and women tossing dice. Tahki wanted to protest, but he didn’t know what to say. This was all too much for him. He thought Dyraien’s reputation would protect him, but clearly he’d missed some vital piece of information about Zinc and Dyraien’s business dealings.
Zinc pushed him down into a hard chair.
“New player?” a woman said. She wore an extravagant red dress that sparkled in the dim light.
“D sent him.” Zinc said the words the same way two friends sharing an inside joke might speak.
The woman pursed her lips.
Another woman approached Zinc. She threw her arms around him and whispered something in his ear.
“In a minute. I’m working,” Zinc said.
Tahki’s legs were shaking. Everything about this felt wrong. He wanted to run. To be far away from Zinc and his smoke-filled den.
“You seem nervous,” Zinc said. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll do fine. This is a game of intelligence, and you seem very, very smart. Now you just watch those dice. Don’t take your eyes off them, you hear?”
Tahki watched. Each player had a gold ring about the width of an apple in front of them. Two larger silver rings were set in the center of the table. A man with a beard placed a paper note in the gold ring and then picked up two of the four dice in front of him. He tossed the dice into one of the silver rings.
“Gain one hundred,” the woman in red said. “And earn another throw.”
One die was marked with numbers, the other with symbols. He saw a few of the symbols on the sides: two doves, the letter V, a skull. The man picked up the other pair of dice in front of him and threw them in the empty silver ring.
“Gain one hundred. Earn double. Two hundred total gained,” the red woman said.
The man smiled and raised his cup of ale.
“See?” Zinc said. “Happy winners. My humble establishment is full of them.”
Zinc pushed new dice in front of Tahki. Tahki looked down at them like Zinc had placed a vial of poison in front of him instead.
“Dyraien will be very pleased you’ve won him something,” Zinc said. “And he always rewards those who please him.”
A woman with a thin pipe in her mouth reached over and placed the dice in Tahki’s hand. They felt heavier than the dice back home, smooth to the touch, made of bone or ivory.
“You said this was a game of intelligence,” Tahki said. “But it just seems like dumb luck.”
“Just roll the dice, kid.”
Suddenly, Tahki didn’t want to be holding them. He didn’t understand the game, the situation, these people. He wished Rye were here to tell him what to do.
He threw the dice into one silver ring. One landed on a three, the other a skull. Zinc let out a low whistle and popped his lips.
“Down fifty,” the red woman said.
“What does that mean?” Tahki said.
“It means,” Zinc said, “you’ll have better luck next roll. No one wins the first roll.”
“I lost?” Panic swept through him. His palms felt sweaty. He rubbed his wrist. The same set of dice appeared in his hands.
“You’re only down fifty notes. You still have a hundred and fifty more. Roll again. Trust me.”
Tahki shook his head. “I don’t think I should.” Zinc rested his hand on his hip. Tahki glanced over and saw a pistol strapped to his side. The man’s fingers traced over the leather grip.
“I think it would be best for you to roll,” Zinc said.
Tahki swallowed. He didn’t understand how Zinc had the nerve to threaten him. When Dyraien found out about this, Zinc would be thrown in prison. But then, Tahki realized the only way he’d be able to tell Dyraien is if he returned victorious. He couldn’t lose and go back with nothing or he’d be the one arrested.
Tahki flicked the dice onto the table.
“Down fifty,” the woman said.
Zinc handed him the dice. Tahki stared at them.
“I know you’ll win this next one,” Zinc said.
Tahki rolled the dice around his fingers. The symbol die felt heavy, but only on one side. Instead of rolling, he dropped the dice straight down.
They fell on a five and a skull.
He dropped them again.
Six and a skull.
Again.
Two and a skull.
“These dice are weighted,” Tahki said. He announced it loud, so the whole room would hear and know Zinc had cheated them.
The men and women around the table remained silent. No one stood up and shouted with outrage or disgust. They all drank their ale and shuffled their decks. Because they hadn’t been playing with weighted dice. Only Tahki had, and they’d all known.
Zinc sucked in a deep breath. “You have about two seconds to clean that dirty mouth of yours, or I’ll do it for you.”
Tahki stood. His whole body resonated with righteousness. He’d been clever enough to see through Zinc’s games. “You’re a cheat. When Dyraien finds out, he’ll be furious.”
“Kid, just accept your losses and leave,�
�� Zinc said. Again, his fingers brushed his pistol.
“Best do what he says.” The red woman wiggled her fingers at him, and he noticed she was missing her ring finger. “He’s got a nasty little temper.”
Tahki hesitated and then said, “Just fill part of the order. What I have money for.”
Zinc looked at the woman in red. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Zinc sighed and leaned toward Tahki. “All right, kid. Since D is a good friend of mine, I’ll fill the order and you can be on your way.”
“Really?” Tahki said, surprised. “I mean, thank you.” He felt a surge of adrenaline at his victory. He followed Zinc to the materials room.
“Out,” Zinc told the old woman. She left in a hurry.
“Doesn’t she need to fill the order?” Tahki said.
A burst of stars appeared in his vision before he tasted the iron in his mouth. His hands slapped the floor when his body fell, and he spat out red. The only sound he heard for a moment was a ringing in his ears. His teeth rattled, and he spat again. Warmth trickled down the side of his head. Everything above his shoulders throbbed in agony.
“Real sorry about this,” Zinc said. “But I did warn you. Gave you a chance to leave. Don’t say I didn’t.” He grabbed a fistful of Tahki’s hair and yanked him up. Tahki tried to free himself, but Zinc thrust him to the ground, hunched over him, and brought his fist barreling into his throat.
Tahki couldn’t swallow any air. He wanted to cry. To scream. To beg someone for help, but his throat burned and constricted and nothing came out. He grasped the black curtain and pulled himself up. Zinc waited patiently, until Tahki finally gulped in ragged, panicky gasps of air. When he could breathe again, he called as loud as he could for help.
Zinc smiled. “That won’t work, kid.” He lifted Tahki by his shirt and threw him across the room onto a table. Then with slow deliberation, he walked to the table and picked up a saw. “What do you think?” Zinc said. He flicked the blade. “A broken jaw, or maybe a few ribs. Or maybe I cut off that left wrist of yours. You seem so fond of it. ’Course, I could just throw you back out there, let my people do what they want with you. Enria, she’s got a taste for young dark-skinned boys.”