Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts) (28 page)

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Authors: Holly Lisle

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BOOK: Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts)
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“We’re capable of paying,” Grita said. “We have the full support of the most powerful House in Ibera behind us, and the backing of Families both old and new.”
Both Hasmal and Ian sat like polite idiots, smiling and waiting, oblivious by all appearances to the huge slip they’d just witnessed.
“Ah, yes. Families. Forgive me, please, but I was noticing your crests,” Hasmal said. He did a neat job of changing the subject. “In my dealings in Ibera, I have always thought that Sabir and Galweigh did not do business together, and I heard in this last visit that Galweigh House was no more. But unless I am mistaken, she is Galweigh. You clearly are Sabir. Aren’t you enemies?”
“She
was
Galweigh. She
is
Ballur. She made an alliance with Sabir House when Galweigh House fell—she and a few others,” Crispin said. “We have discovered common ground, though, and common interests.”
“Common ground? In broken toys from the Ages of the Damned, eh?” Ian laughed.
Crispin tipped his head, curious, and said to Ian, “You know, I think that I know you.”
Kait felt a sudden rush of horror. She’d forgotten that Ry and his lieutenants were not the only ones to grow up in Sabir House. Ian, too, had spent some of his childhood there. Ian, the illegitimate son of Ry’s father, would be as closely related to the Sabir across the table from him as his half-brother was. And Ian certainly knew the man who had introduced himself as Crispin. When she and Dùghall and Hasmal had been figuring out how to meet with the investors, she’d recommended Ian as one of the negotiators. But she’d only considered his years of exile and his years on the sea, and had been certain Ian would be safe acting as a trader in the heart of Calimekka. The thought that he might meet up with someone who had known him as a child, or that the person he met might recognize him, had never crossed her mind.
Evidently it had crossed his, though, for Ian’s reply was casual. “You might have. I am a great traveler, and I seek out such amusements as our ports of call offer. If you also enjoy the offerings of this city . . .” He held his palms up and offered a self-deprecating smile. “My weakness.”
Crispin shrugged. “Perhaps. In any case, our alliance is about much more than the lost trinkets of a dead age. We intend to create a new Calimekka. A glorious city overflowing with riches, ruled in harmony; a city that can embrace the world and reshape it into a place without wars, without disease, without suffering.”
Ian’s eyebrows rose. “The three of you? Ambitious.”
Crispin, Grita, and Domagar looked at each other, and Grita said, “We have others who share our dream. And we’ve had these goals for a long time. But we have only just been able to come together to begin bringing them to life.”
“And you need our help.”
“We desire certain works of the Ancients that would make our task easier. If you can supply them, then yes, we need your help.”
Ian said, “We can add to your happiness greatly, dear new friends. But you must know that the places we have to go to get for you what you ask of us are dangerous places. They lie within the Scarred Lands, where few venture and fewer survive, and where all manner of monsters make their homes, and where even the earth and the air conspire against the human state of true men. We would need much assistance to fuel our courage. . . .”
“We weren’t looking for charity from you. If your goal is wealth, we’ll see that you achieve it in quantities you cannot imagine. If you want friends in powerful places who can do good things for you, well, help us and you’ll have them.” He looked straight at Ian. “Amusements . . . hmmm. I can assure you that we can share amusements with you grander than any you’ve ever known.”
They dickered back and forth about price then. The Dragons passed their wish list of artifacts to Hasmal. Kait kept her head down and her ears open, and started on the first of her tarts, savoring each bite.
She sipped her ale.
The negotiators agreed on a price for the outfitting of the expedition.
The talkative man seated beside her began regaling the man beside him with a blow-by-blow account of a challenge that had taken place a week before. His loud tones got louder, and drowned out much of what was being said by the Dragons, even to her inhumanly sensitive ears.
She took tiny sips of her ale, stretching out her meal as much as she could without being obvious about it. Hurry up, she thought, but she didn’t allow her body to display any of the impatience her mind felt.
Then it began.
Dùghall shouted to one of the tavern girls, his accent heavy, his words slurred by drunkenness. “Girlie! Hey. You wit’ the honkin’ big jugs. Bring me s’more ale!”
One of the girls hurried to his side, shaking her head. She murmured something, and his face twisted with rage.
“Whatcha mean I’ve had enough? I got money. I can pay, damn you!” He lurched to his feet and stared at her wildly, his mouth gaping, his clothes disarranged, his face flushed. He slapped a coin on the table and said, “See! I got the money. Bring me some more goddamned ale!”
She shook her head again. Murmured something intended to be calming, in a low voice. Rested a hand lightly on his arm.
The majority of the people in the room were watching the scene by then.
“No?
No!
” He made a grab for her, and she jumped out of his way. He lunged again. “I’m thirsty! A thirsty man with money deserves another drink!”
“You need to leave now,” the girl said, this time loudly enough that everyone could hear.
At the taps, the barkeep had already fished out his peacemaker—a large cudgel with a brass-bound head—and was moving calmly toward the cause of the disturbance.
Dùghall stood there for a moment, swaying as heavily as a tree in a gale. Then he launched himself at the girl again, and missed. He staggered, and veered wildly to his right, and tripped on the leg of a chair, and fell into Crispin Sabir. He toppled to the floor, and lay cursing loudly. Then he grabbed the bench seat upon which the three investors sat, pawed Grita’s back, and as he pulled himself to his feet, slapped Domagar on the shoulder with beery camaraderie. He said, “Pigballs.
You
know a man deserves a drink when he’s thirsty, don’t you? Hells-all! I’ll sit wit’ you people an’ buy you all drinks, and they can bring me a goddamn drink, too.”
Kait waited for Crispin or Grita to demand that Dùghall be killed. They would be within their rights, being Family, and touched by one who was
not
Family without having given their permission. Dùghall was ready, too. But the two of them only looked at each other while the rest of those in the inn held their breath, waiting for the explosion.
It didn’t come.
The tavern girls and the barkeep were on him by that time, though. “Have you anything you want us to do with him, Parat? Parata?” the bouncer asked.
“Send him on his way,” Grita said.
Not a first for Family—Kait had been bumped on occasion and had never requested punishment for the poor cowering person shuddering at her feet, and she knew of other Family members who had also waived their privileges for the goodwill that it won them. But many didn’t, and this act of forbearance won a round of applause from the inn’s diners and staff.
The bouncer and two of the tavern girls dragged kicking, swearing Dùghall to the front door and launched him out. Kait could hear him raging at them until the doors swung shut. The noise died and the inn returned to relative calm.
Hasmal and Ian rose, apologizing profusely for the incident, for their poor choice of eating places, for their shame in exposing their guests, even unintentionally, to such appalling behavior. They bowed, cringed, and even mentioned a discount on their price—though only a small one—as a way of making amends.
“You have no need for shame or guilt,” Grita said. “Such men are everywhere. But they won’t be once we’ve made things better.”
Kait’s eyebrows rose when she heard that. She wondered how the Dragons intended to rid the city of drunks.
Hasmal called their tavern girl over and said he wanted to pay, telling her how displeased he was with the atmosphere provided by an inn he had only heard praised, and how poorly his guests had been treated. The girl grew flustered and called the owner out from the back. He looked at the people the drunk had been pawing, paled, and told them that not only was the meal they were eating free, but that he begged them to return on any other occasion for complimentary service.
Interesting way to get free food, Kait thought.
Hasmal waited until the innkeeper had gone back to his office. Then he told the Dragons, “We know what to look for. We’ll check our warehouse to see if we have any of the artifacts you seek in our possession yet. And we’ll notify our other partners that they should also watch their stores and shipments for these things. In return, you’ll have your messenger bring your investment money to our ship three weeks from today. No sooner, no later. Once we receive the money, we’ll finish outfitting for the trip out.”
“Why can’t you leave sooner?” Crispin asked.
Hasmal said, “We have business to attend to in the city. I assure you we’ll work as quickly as we can, but some dates are unchangeable. We’ll be ready to begin outfitting in three weeks, and our ship will be back in the same length of time.”
“Your ship isn’t
here
?”
“No,” Ian said. “It’s taking the rest of our cargo to Costan Selvira. It will be here when we need it.”
The three Dragons looked at each other and nodded.
Hasmal said, “I must ask you—do you have other traders who are also searching for the same things?”
The three Dragons looked at each other again.
“Yes,” Crispin said. “Is that a problem?”
“Do you agree to buy the artifacts we bring back, even if some other trader has already brought you similar artifacts?”
Crispin nodded. “If you find duplicates of any of the things on our list, acquire all of them. We’ll pay our agreed-on price for every one you can get.”
“That, then, is all the assurance we need.”
In Hmoth fashion, Hasmal kissed the backs of his hands, then pressed them to the top of his head while bowing. Ian followed suit.
After the briefest of pauses, Crispin copied the Hmoth parting salute. Domagar also imitated it. Grita turned and, smiling, stepped over the bench. She turned back to face the two faux Hmoth traders, kissed the back of one hand and pressed it to her forehead, and at the same time tucked her right foot behind her left one and bent both knees sharply.
“Tah heh hmer,”
she said. It was in Hmago, the Hmoth tongue, and it meant, “Walk in goodness.” The feminine version of the salute, and nicely executed.
Kait, picking at the last of her tart and watching the exchange through the fringe of her eyelashes, experienced a transitory flash of pride in her cousin’s grasp of the Hmoth customs. The Galweighs required all their young people entering the trade and diplomatic branches of the Family to take classes on customs, cultures, and languages. Those classes were grueling. But like Grita, Kait could have done the salute in her sleep.
“Tah heh entho nohmara,”
Hasmal and Ian responded. “In goodness breathe forever.”
The blessing given, the Dragons headed for the door, Domagar glanced over at her table briefly, and for just an instant their eyes met. She almost panicked. Then she remembered that she was shielded, and that her shield would keep him from noticing her even though he could see her. She relaxed and looked down at her food, and when she glanced up again, all the Dragons were gone. Ian and Hasmal left a sizable tip for the tavern girl. Then they, too, left.
She realized the chatty man had been watching them as they walked out the door. The instant the door closed behind them, he stopped his conversation in midsentence, rose, and walked out after them, leaving food uneaten on the table and a stack of bronze coins in the middle of his plate to pay his bill.
Kait almost laughed. Him, eh? She should have known immediately. She had, after all, picked the perfect spot for spying on the room. What was perfect for her turned out to be perfect for another secret observer. Her fellow spy pretended to be rudely interested in everything but the table. A bit different from her method, but effective.
She didn’t go after him immediately. She waited; after all, she had the benefit of knowing where Hasmal and Ian were going. They had agreed to amble when they left the inn. She would travel parallel to them, taking the inside track they’d planned in advance, and moving faster. When she picked them up a block before their destination, she would fall in and follow their follower back to
his
lair. She wanted to be sure, though, that the Dragons didn’t have another tier of watchers waiting to see if someone like her was keeping track of their spy.
Those levels of paranoia could nest indefinitely—followers of followers, spies spying on the spies who spied on spies. But one of the three Dragons had made a slight gesture toward a table across the room as they left, and Kait had seen one of the two men at that table nod acknowledgment. So Kait waited. She had a little time, and she wanted to know what they were up to back there in the darkness.

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