rich streets twisted together in a tight, tidy borough of shops and houses, and neighbors kepta keen eye on one another’s safety and turned a blind one to their business. Cwalo & Sons, Importers sold spices and silks, glassware and incense, imported from all over the world; and from his warehouse down on the Big Silver, Cwalo carried out an even more profitable trade in . . . other things. I’d met him at the Nemair’s last winter, and he’d taken an unaccountable liking to me, kindly deliveringme back to the city when winter was over. After two months traveling the back roads of Llyvraneth with the man, I’d come to share the Nemair’s trust in him.
I trotted down the Big Silver as the sun pulsed heavily against the streets. It was getting muggier, and I pulled at my layers of dress, grateful for the slight slip of a breeze I imagined curling around my hot ankles. I crossed fromdusty cobbles to rippled boardwalk and passed into the shade of hulking merchant traders, their mooring lines creaking in the humid air. I saw the name on one vessel and had to smile. It was new, Tratuan built, flying neutral flags, and called Merista.
Outside a low frame building opposite the docks, a compact, bald man, clad in neat black, spoke with a brace of royal guardsmen. I pulledback, my neck and belly tense, but Cwalo gave one of the guards a friendly thump on the arm. I waited until they walked away, and I noticed one of them carried a distinctive green wine bottle under one arm.
Cwalo’s shiny face lit up when he saw me, and he strolled over, arms open. “My dear! I would tell you this is no place for a girl like you, but I think I might be wrong.” He pulled meinto a quick, firm embrace. I glanced down the road at the departing guardsmen, and Cwalo shook his head. “It takes half my profits maintaining goodwill in this city, but it’s worth it, these days.”
I cast my eyes around the dockyard. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Always.” He led me toward the warehouse’s small office room, where he motioned to a chair and perched himself on thedesk, rummaging in the drawer behind him for a bronze flask and a set of tiny bejeweled cordial cups. I was lucky to find him back in Gerse; he spent most of his time on the road, and his main family home was in Yeris Volbann, but he made it a point to let me know when he was back in the city — even if I didn’t always manage to come see him. “What brings you here? Tell me it’s because you’ve reconsideredmy offer!” He grinned as he poured a creamy liquid into the little cups.
“Master Cwalo, you know I love you, but I am not going to marry Garod.” Cwalo’s overriding ambition was to find brides for his six sons.
He gave a little sigh. “Ah, well. I won’t stop asking, you know.”
“You have five other sons. Pick me another one. I did like Piral a lot, you know.”
“Piral?” Cwalo’sface was very serious. “Piral is eleven years old and thinks of nothing but ships and dogs. I think you may be too much woman for him.”
I laughed aloud at that. “He popped the lock I gave him on his very first try,” I reminded him. “Besides, by the time I’m ready for a husband, he’ll be all grown up. Try me again in another ten years.”
“My girl, if no one has managed to coax you intobecoming respectable by that time, I don’t think even Piral will be up for that task. Now. Tell me why you’ve come.”
I sobered and explained about the murder of Talth Ceid. Cwalo had been out of the city for a few months, but it didn’t surprise me that he’d heard the news.
“Bad tidings, indeed. Mistress Talth was a formidable influence in so many areas — not an easy woman to like, certainly— but she got things done. I can’t imagine young Durrel had any part in this!”
The relief I felt was irrational, but Cwalo had the best nose for cunning I knew, and I was glad to have him confirm my own conviction. Swiftly I told him of Durrel’s questions
I trotted down the Big Silver as the sun pulsed heavily against the streets. It was getting muggier, and I pulled at my layers of dress, grateful for the slight slip of a breeze I imagined curling around my hot ankles. I crossed fromdusty cobbles to rippled boardwalk and passed into the shade of hulking merchant traders, their mooring lines creaking in the humid air. I saw the name on one vessel and had to smile. It was new, Tratuan built, flying neutral flags, and called Merista.
Outside a low frame building opposite the docks, a compact, bald man, clad in neat black, spoke with a brace of royal guardsmen. I pulledback, my neck and belly tense, but Cwalo gave one of the guards a friendly thump on the arm. I waited until they walked away, and I noticed one of them carried a distinctive green wine bottle under one arm.
Cwalo’s shiny face lit up when he saw me, and he strolled over, arms open. “My dear! I would tell you this is no place for a girl like you, but I think I might be wrong.” He pulled meinto a quick, firm embrace. I glanced down the road at the departing guardsmen, and Cwalo shook his head. “It takes half my profits maintaining goodwill in this city, but it’s worth it, these days.”
I cast my eyes around the dockyard. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Always.” He led me toward the warehouse’s small office room, where he motioned to a chair and perched himself on thedesk, rummaging in the drawer behind him for a bronze flask and a set of tiny bejeweled cordial cups. I was lucky to find him back in Gerse; he spent most of his time on the road, and his main family home was in Yeris Volbann, but he made it a point to let me know when he was back in the city — even if I didn’t always manage to come see him. “What brings you here? Tell me it’s because you’ve reconsideredmy offer!” He grinned as he poured a creamy liquid into the little cups.
“Master Cwalo, you know I love you, but I am not going to marry Garod.” Cwalo’s overriding ambition was to find brides for his six sons.
He gave a little sigh. “Ah, well. I won’t stop asking, you know.”
“You have five other sons. Pick me another one. I did like Piral a lot, you know.”
“Piral?” Cwalo’sface was very serious. “Piral is eleven years old and thinks of nothing but ships and dogs. I think you may be too much woman for him.”
I laughed aloud at that. “He popped the lock I gave him on his very first try,” I reminded him. “Besides, by the time I’m ready for a husband, he’ll be all grown up. Try me again in another ten years.”
“My girl, if no one has managed to coax you intobecoming respectable by that time, I don’t think even Piral will be up for that task. Now. Tell me why you’ve come.”
I sobered and explained about the murder of Talth Ceid. Cwalo had been out of the city for a few months, but it didn’t surprise me that he’d heard the news.
“Bad tidings, indeed. Mistress Talth was a formidable influence in so many areas — not an easy woman to like, certainly— but she got things done. I can’t imagine young Durrel had any part in this!”
The relief I felt was irrational, but Cwalo had the best nose for cunning I knew, and I was glad to have him confirm my own conviction. Swiftly I told him of Durrel’s questions
Similar Books
