Red Sales, pt2

The boy scurried along. I only spotted glimpses of him, dodging between the legs of the late night crowds or darting beside the goat-drawn carriages on the streets. He would have made a fortune as a cutpurse. I would have ignored the urchin, just one amongst many were it not for his destination. He stopped in the shadow of a ornate gateway, kneeling to whisper to someone in the shadows. The gateway of the Temple of the Four Winds. 

Our destination.

The temple had once been the estate of a noble Akerosi family. They had gone the way of all honour in this country, disappearing, and leaving their debts to the banks. Some Iruvian immigrants had purchased it decades ago. Now it served as a religious and social centre for the many Iruvians who made their living so far from their homes. More importantly it was the home of the Red Sash fighting school. I’d seen their number around town, always wearing their ridiculous red silk sashes. More often than not stained with their own cooling blood as the Spirit Wardens came to collect the bodies. Our new friends the Lampblacks were appealing to popular ignorance by attacking the most obvious foreigners they could see. Watching the Iruvian’s fight was glorious, twisting, leaping, slashing. But normally ending with a scrummage of Lampblacks kicking the crap out of the lonely foreigner.

Why fight fair if you can win by cheating? The Lampblacks weren’t stupid at least.

There seemed to be an opening to even the odds though. Which is why I was now following Snowflake towards the temple gates. Ish had said it was a perfect opportunity. He normally was better at this sort of thing.

Crouched in the shadow of the gate, the urchin looked up at us as we passed. His formerly invisible companion was an ancient man smoking a pipe that reached down to his crossed legs. The embers glowed with each breath of smoke, illuminating his long wisp of a beard and deeply crevassed face. As I stared at this antique he looked right at me with a pair of smokey white eyes. He tapped below one eye with the mouthpiece of his pipe. We saw what you did being the unspoken message.

Over the decades the Iruvians had tried to refurbish the building. The eaves were wider than was usual in Duskvol, and parts of the walls had had images carved in them, which resulted in the feeling that hundreds of figures were staring out at me from strange faces. Inside was even worse, with walls missing and no real doors anywhere. It left me longing for the good solid stonework of home. I kept glancing upwards, feeling that the upper floors and roof would collapse on me at any moment. In passing, I saw one room filled with kneeling men and women giving out a collective murmur that made my head ache. They were offering incense to a four armed, two faces statue. There might have been knives? I shook my head and tried to remember the plan.

* * *

“Everything is a test, and we can’t fail any of them.” Khara stoof with hands on hips, staring down the two of us. I tried to smother a smile, but her frown told me I had failed. This tiny stick of a girl who I could lift with one arm was stamping her foot in anger.

“You Akarosi and Skovs love to fight all the time, like roosters squawking in a barnyard. In Iruvia when knives appear, someone dies.” I tried to take her seriously, but imagined her trying to lift one of my clan war-swords. She’d topple forward. Ish elbowed my ribs.

“Right, keep my hands away from my weapons.” 

Khara hissed and clenched her tiny fists. “It is not just what you do not do. It is everything you do! How you stand, sit, follow, speak. The way you look around a room.” She reached forward and slapped my hand away from my face. “That would mean you thought my argument smelled like your outhouse.”

My cheeks grew hot.

“So what should we be saying?” 

Khara looked at Ish and cocked her head, thinking. “Perhaps it will be simplest if you say nothing. I talk.”

“Hang on, we’re the ones who have the merchandise, we should…”

“… Be the ones to ruin it all by flapping your fat lips” Khara flapped her hands in the air. “No, I’m from a noble house and this Mylera Klev is not. It is against custom to try to haggle with a noble, and the head of a school would never be so vulgar.” She smiled. “She will know how valuable your merchandise is.”

* * *

Khara was at home. She seemed to have grown up to my shoulder, and walked down these hallways like a queen with shoulders back and chin forward. The attendants bowed low and kept their eyes on her feet. It was… impressive.

I had no idea of what she was saying, but she knew the plan. Everyone was ignoring Ish and I while we trailed behind. We were led through a courtyard, its sandy floor crunching underfoot. There were speckles of blood still visible in the sand, and the imprint of bodies. A training ground used for real training. The variety of sharp implements on the surrounding walls reinforced this impression. The axes looked especially vicious.

A curtained alcove was opened for us by a huge attendant. His bare chest tattooed with artistic imagery and script. I had no idea of what it meant, but by his proud display I guessed he was not to be fucked with. The wide, curved desk was a work of art in itself. The subtle inlays of precious metals, and all manner of papers, inks, and boxes neatly arrayed. Here sat a woman of importance. Her deep red robe glowed in the candlelight, thickly embroidered with gold thread. The twisting pattern was a scaled and rippling serpent with whiskers and a frill. The Wyrm of World’s End, or something resembling the old legend.

Watching this woman left me nervous. She reminded me too much of the Mothers of the Thorn Lady. Fierce eyes, measuring everything. Precise movements, hurting for no-one. This was a queen sitting in her throne, and we had dared to think we could swagger in and take her money?

The Snowflake started talking. I had no idea what she was saying as it all sounded like random sounds to me. Neither of their faces gave anything away either, false smiles and waving fingers. But the eyes of Mylera were sharp as swords. It was like watching a pair of hungry wolves circling a carcass, neither willing to start a fight, or to back away and be attacked. The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. 

Ish stepped in. Again. He came up to the desk and gave an absurd Arkosian flourish of his hat, ending so bent over that his head was down at his knees. The muscles on the guard all flexed as his hand tightened on his sword hilt, but Mylera stopped his movement with a twitch of a finger.

Then she smiled. 

Well, more of an amused lip curl. But still progress.

“Lydra had said you have something of interest.” When no one else moved I figured out that this was a question for me. I fumbled the paper from my coat pocket and handed it to Khara. The Imperial registry form that came with our merchandise. The list of what we hoped to sell. The guard stepped forward and took the list from Khara. 

For a moment the world held it’s breath. Mylera had stopped her writing while the guard spoke, quill held stationary above the waiting paper. The she spoke a sharp phrase and the guard left the room with the list. What had happened? Both Khara and Mylera had the same frozen half smile on their faces. It didn’t reach either of their eyes. The guard reappeared bearing a small box, which he placed on the desk before Khara. Then the scratching of quill on paper resumed as Mylera ignored us again.

“The mistress requests that you hold our property for a period of one day. She offers thanks for recovering the legally purchased goods of the Red-Sash school. This is for the additional storage costs. An appropriate finders fee will be delivered tomorrow. Everyone bowed.

We did it?