He did a quick count of the city. Only twenty seven little huts and two larger structures dotted the desert. Three times that many dagger-beaked birds stared down at him.
How can such a tiny village be counted a city? There were more tents in his family’s tribe. Only two people could fit in those little shacks, and that would be crowded. Was there another town beyond, out of sight? Where were the people?
As though in answer to his question, six people walked out of one of the little huts.
Lorel kicked at the sand “How on the Loom did they all fit?” She froze. “Look at their faces.”
Viper gawked at them, too stunned to speak. Their eyes were as large as vulture eggs, and of a vibrant dark green. Like malachite. Or verdigris. Acetate of copper mixed with wine and infused into lard could create that effect.
The natives walked briskly across the village toward them, completely ignoring the ugly birds. Maybe the feathered beasts weren’t vultures. Not even meat eaters. But what could they be?
When they were less than twenty feet away, the walkers ducked down into another of the huts. A small one, that six people shouldn’t fit inside.
Viper laughed quietly. How could he have missed it? Trevor would have seen it immediately, would have loved this place. He laughed louder.
Lorel punched his shoulder and knocked him into the sand. “What’s wrong with you, kid?” She grabbed his mandolin before he could fall on it.
Books in his pack dug into his back, instead. “Don’t hit me so hard, bahtdor bait.” He glared up at her, but shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Did you see their eyes?” She shuddered. “I didn’t think people grew like that. Weird, huh?”
“Not really.” He pushed sweaty hair back from his face. “We’ve found the latest fashion, that’s all.”
“What d’ya mean?” She reached down and hauled him up to his feet.
“It was eye make-up. They painted it on.”
“That’s even weirder.”
“I’ve got one even better. That’s what made me laugh.”
“So spit it out.” Lorel wiped the sweat off her forehead and rubbed her wet hand on her trousers.
“The whole city is underground. Right under our feet.”
Her eyes squinted and she started to swear, ending with, “Bitter blood in the Warp and the Weave. Loom-tangling, thread-snipping Shuttle-breakers.” In a calmer tone, she asked, “Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know.” His ears burned clear up to the tips. He hadn’t realized she even knew cuss words like that. “Maybe it was to get out of the heat.”
“Now that makes sense.” Lorel marched toward the nearest hut.
“Wait, bahtdor bait. We can’t just go charging in. Some of these huts might be doors to private homes.”
She ducked under the driftwood porch and into the stone hut. “I betcha not, kid. I betcha everything is joined together down there, but the halls and stuff wander so much that sometimes it’s easier to come topside and cut across the whole mess.”
That made a perverted sort of sense. Trevor’s labyrinth ran in straight lines, but a poorly planned underground might wander.
He followed her into the hut and down a set of narrow steps. He hoped she was right. Just the thought of spending his shore leave in jail for trespassing made his stomach hurt.
“Shuttle on the Loom.” She paused at the bottom of the shadowy steps and spread her arms. “It’s a whole lot cooler down here. Now, if we follow this hall, we’ll get where we wanna be.”
“Where is that?” The air was surprisingly chilly down here. Viper wrapped his arms around his sweaty chest and shivered at the sensation of eyes peering out of the dark. Praise the Thunderer for lamps dotting the corridor, even if they were gloomy and dim.
“Someplace else.” She laughed at his exaggerated look of disgust. “Someplace where people are.”
She’d become a sandcrab with a plump lizard in its claws over the last eleven days. Traveling agreed with her, even when she got all of the crummy jobs. What could he say to put her in her place?
“Lead on, warlord,” he drawled, and executed a deep bow.
Lorel sprang to grab him.
Laughing like a turybird, Viper fled.
They trotted down the hall until they found a huge room filled with people. A market square? No, it was far too exotic to call it a market. This had to be one of the legendary Kresh bazaars.
Lorel put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay close to me, kid.”
“Who would bother me here?”
She glared down at him. “Don’t wander off looking at books.”
Spoil sport. He’d hunt for books later. He nodded and strolled at her side, taking two steps for each of hers.
The bazaar was a heady, sensual experience. Everything ever for sale anywhere seemed to be here, and there was much more here than he’d dreamed possible. Zedista’s Market Square was small and tame by comparison. Very, very tame.
The bazaar was exotic, erotic, and dangerous as the deathwind.
Twice he turned his head to discover himself half-sold by a stranger to a stranger. The second time, Lorel brandished her short sword at the salesman. Thereafter they had no trouble. But she kept one hand firmly on his shoulder, just in case.
“You’re too fraying pretty,” she grumbled, barely audible over the roar of the dickering crowd. “We need to get you a sword.”
“That wouldn’t help and you know it.” He leaned his head against the bottom of her pack and watched the crowd swirl around them. “People like that just don’t take me seriously.”
“They tried to take you, all right, serious or not.” Lorel shrugged. “We gotta do something. Let’s get out of here, for a start.”
A strange voice beside them asked, “Where is it you’re wanting to go?”
Viper winced as Lorel’s fingers crushed his shoulder. Her sword was half out of its scabbard before she hesitated. She slammed it back in place.
He pounded on her fist.
She squeezed until he squeaked.
What was wrong with her? Tomorrow he’d have a bruise the size of the Setoyan plains. He twisted sideways and wormed out of her grip.
She snagged his wrist and yanked him back.
His pack and mandolin case slid off his shoulder. Could he get enough leverage to smack her with them?
She shuffled backwards, dragging him with her.
A small, stout, and unimpressive middle-aged woman with green paint lining her eyes grinned at them.
Viper shook his head. Had the turybird had lost her mind? Or was this a witch, that his gyrfalcon should react like she’d captured lightning and didn’t know what to do with it?
“Don’t you ever sneak up on me.” Lorel stepped in front of him. Her fingers still crushed his wrist.
“A body can hardly be accused of sneaking in here.” The woman laughed and waved at the bazaar. “It’s so noisy that a demon with wooden feet could trot through unheard. Which ship are you from?”
“Ain’t none of your business.”
Viper glared up at her and tried to tug his arm free. “Pavimigar’s Tide Sprite.”
“You’ll be needing lodging, then.” The little woman pointed toward one of the nearer cavern hallways. “Let’s move out where it’s quieter and talk.”
Lorel glared down her nose at the intruder. “You mean, go with you?”
The woman smiled and turned her back. She elbowed her way through the crowd and sauntered toward the corridor.
“Shut up, turybird.” Viper yanked his arm free. “Listen before you jabber.”
Lorel growled wordlessly and pushed him ahead of her, following the older woman’s rapidly disappearing form.
He lost track of their guide within seconds. “It’s a good thing you’re tall enough to see where we’re going.”
“Shut up, kid.”
“Let me do the talking.”
She snagged his upper arm and shook him. �
�Coward crap.”
“If we spend our shore leave sleeping in a hallway, I’m going to get even with you.”
“Don’t you fret, kid. I’ll take care of you.” She squeezed his arm so hard he was sure he’d have more bruises when she finally let him go.
“Thunderer protect me.” He pinched the back of her hand. “Now I know I’m in trouble.”
The stout little woman stopped at the first bend in the hallway. “I’m called Emil. Name yourselves.”
“She’s Lorel, and I’m called Viper. May we be of service to you?”
Lorel snorted.
Emil laughed cheerfully. “I think you have it backwards.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s nice that one of you is polite.”
“She’s only polite to swords and knives.” Viper kicked at Lorel’s shin, but missed by a hand’s width. Last time she’d kicked him back. “But she’s very good if you want something guarded.”
“I might at that.” Emil inspected the tall girl as though she were a stone wall in need of mending.
Lorel stood straighter. “Don’t want no charity during shore leave.”
Emil chuckled. “Nobody offers charity, not here. Just some people will work you harder than others. I run a gem business, and Griffith, my husband, is a silversmith. We need someone to run errands for us. Someone who can guard our work and not find themselves sold off to Padue if they turn their back.”
Lorel threw back her shoulders and grinned. “I can handle that.”
“That lets me out.” Heat rushed into his face. “I was nearly sold twice in the last hour.”
“Three times,” Lorel muttered.
Not true. He’d paid attention after the first time. The last pair were just curious about his blond hair.
Emil turned to him. “I could use some help in the shop. Someone who can learn to sort the stones and polish them. From the way you speak I guessing you’re a scholarly sort of boy.”
He hitched his pack higher. “I’ve studied gemstones a little.” Thunderer, he’d written a whole book, but he doubted she’d believe him even after he showed it to her. Lorel would laugh at him for sure, if he said it out loud.
“With an instrument, too. A mandolin, is it? So you’re a creative child, as well.”
Viper blinked and nodded hesitantly. If Lorel laughed, he’d stomp on her foot. He’d punch her in the kidney.
She thumped her harp case hard enough the harp strings jangled.
“Maybe you’ll learn enough to do a little design work. We’ll see.” Emil looked at each of them in turn. “And of course I’ll need you both to help me collect rocks. Are you willing to work?”
“Yes!” Seeing where rocks formed would be fun, but keeping Lorel outside and busy might save his sanity.
The creases around Emil’s eyes crinkled like a winter apple. “Let’s go home.”
The maze below the desert was exactly what Lorel predicted, not that he’d ever admit she’d been right. Emil led them back and forth through winding tunnels, up to the surface and back down again.
He was completely lost.
Lorel contemplated the rough art on the walls and nodded confidently. “I can find this place again.”
He hoped so. But if she couldn’t, he’d simply ask the locals. Emil was dignified the way Faye was, like a lead hunter for the tribe. He’d bet she was well known.
Emil opened a hardened-hide door (he guessed that wood was too scarce for doors) and led them into a large, lantern-lit workshop. “Griffith, we have new workers.”
A pot-bellied old man looked up from his engraving tools. “How’d you get such young ones? We might actually get some work done this time.”
Viper wandered closer to Griffith’s table. Bright silver shimmered with gorgeous designs of birds and flowers. “Thunderdrums, you’re good. Lorel, look at this.”
The turybird sauntered closer, and her eyebrows rose. “I bet that’ll go for sovereigns in Zedista.”
“Two hundred sovereigns.” Griffith laughed at her stunned expression.
“Now you know why we need a guard for deliveries,” Emil said.
Lorel nodded and stood straighter. “Ain’t nobody gonna steal nothing from me.”
“What do you know about pickpockets?” Griffith leaned back in his chair.
“Too much.” Lorel snorted. “I’ll break their arms.”
Griffith laughed. “We better warn the guards about this one, Mama.”
That was all they needed. Would the guards here get reports from the City Guard in Zedista? “Try not to break anybody until you have to, turybird.”
Lorel smirked.
Thunderer. He needed to have a talk with her about staying unnoticed. Not that it would do any good. Blast, it might even make her act worse.
She turned to Emil. “How much you paying us, anyways?”
Emil lifted one eyebrow. “Room and board, plus a share of the gemstones you bring in.”
“That gonna be enough, kid?”
Enough for what? To finance their travels? Maybe. To pay for his book addiction? Never. He’d have to stay away from the book shops. “It’ll be enough if we work hard.”
Griffith laughed. “You give in too easy.”
Viper’s jaw dropped. He was allowed to bargain?
Lorel groaned. “Weaver’s cold toes, just look at him. Now he’ll natter at you all night.”
Emil giggled. “You’ll get on with Griffith, I can see. Maybe you’ll teach each other a few tricks.”
“I can always use new techniques.” Did the old man know anything he hadn’t learned while traveling with the traders’ caravan? “We really need to figure out a long-term way to support ourselves. I mean, Lorel can always be a guard, but what am I good for?” Not magic, certainly. Not after he’d gotten Trevor killed. Besides, who wanted to hire a second-level sorcerer?
“You could write books, kid.” Lorel grinned at Emil. “I gotta pry his nose outta a book to get him to do anything.”
“You can write?” Emil scooped up a huge ledger. “I’ll pay extra for you to help keep my accounts.”
“Just show me how.” Accounting couldn’t be that hard, could it?
Lorel frowned.
“We’ll pay extra for every time you pull guard duty,” Griffith told her.
“If your writing is clear enough, you could get a job as a scribe, or a clerk,” Emil said.
“If you want to settle in one place.” Griffith leaned forward. “You good at bargaining? If you want to travel, you could become a merchant.”
That would be ideal. He could bargain all he liked, and Lorel couldn’t complain.
“He’s far too young to be a merchant,” Emil said. “Nobody would take him seriously.”
“I’m not that young.” And he was older than he looked.
Lorel sighed. “He’s just awful little.”
“How old are you?” The corners of Emil’s lips twitched. “Thirteen? Fourteen?”
At least she didn’t say twelve.
“He’s thirteen.” Lorel jammed a thumb into her chest. “I’m almost fifteen.”
She was not. She was lunars short of fifteen. Trust the turybird to make him look bad.
“Thirteen’s a bit young to start a business.” Griffith grinned and winked. “But a good age to start learning the trade.”
He’d show them. He’d start a business, and make it successful. As soon as he figured out what he wanted to sell. What did he know about? Books? Weapons? Gemstones? If they were paid in stones instead of coins, he could start with that.
Emil strolled across the workshop and pushed aside a curtain. “We live back here. Come stow your gear in your room, and we’ll get to work.”
Chapter 14.
The next morning they embarked on their first trip into the desert. Viper picked his way across the sandy, rock-strewn ground. The landscape was so level he could see for miles. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see besides Emil, Griffith, and Lorel. And the blasted wheelbarrow.
The air was still cool. He was grateful for that, but the sky was more black than pink, and not blue at all.
He hated getting up before the sun did.
Walking, or rather, stumbling around in his new sandals wasn’t helping any, either, but Emil had been right. Even this early in the morning, boots would be too hot.
Besides, a pack half-filled with stone was heavy. He’d been busy rock collecting while Lorel was larking across the desert, playing sentry.
“Hey, kid, look out!” she whispered. “Ain’t that a snake?”
“Snake?” he squawked, and suddenly he was sprawled in the sand eight feet north of his former position. “Where?” He bolted to his feet. “Where is it?”
Lorel sat in the rocky sand and howled with laughter.
“I swear that boy can levitate,” Griffith told Emil. He took a quick swig from the canteen at his belt.
“You dung-eating liar! How dare you, you water-fouling vulture’s spawn!”
Emil sighed. “I knew there was a reason I’d avoided hiring children.”
“You worm tongued jackal!” Viper shouted. “You snake-loving ogre! You’d eat a toad if it would sit still for you! Sure, sit there and laugh. I hope an abuelo snake crawls out of the sand and swallows you whole. I wish an adder would slither up and bite you and you’d shrink down as small as I am. I wish– ”
“That’s quite enough,” Emil said.
Viper stared at her openmouthed, another curse dripping on his tongue. He hadn’t even started cussing yet.
She turned to Lorel. “For telling a lie, you can push the wheelbarrow by yourself today. And tomorrow, too.”
Lorel stopped laughing. “I was just teasing him,” she said indignantly.
“A cruel lie is not teasing.” Emil folded her arms over her chest. “Teasing is one thing, but this snake nonsense could ruin your friendship.”
A startled expression widened her eyes as Lorel whirled to face him.
He nodded crossly. After all their time together, how could she have missed that snakes made him nervous? He turned his back on her and brushed sand off his clothes and out of his sandals.
“Why’re you scared of snakes? I thought you was just scared of spiders.”
“I’m not afraid of spiders, turybird.” He frowned at her. Spiders did give him the creeps, but only because he’d accidentally manifested one. A huge one. “A viper bit me when I was little, and I haven’t grown since.” Surely she’d noticed he hated being short.
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