the title, not the person who, by luck, currently inhabited it.
She had certainly not lined up behind Jay’s banner when Jay had been in the South. She had, on the other hand, made offers of support to three of the four contenders. She wanted the Merchant Authority. She didn’t want it enough to personally attempt to depose Jarven.
No one wanted it that much. Jester considered this fact far more significant than Finch did.
“They’re all afraid of Lucille,” she’d told him, grinning.
“Do you even believe that?” he’d asked.
She laughed, and signed
truce
before they could start an argument in earnest.
Jester rose the moment Ruby had crossed the threshold. He didn’t bow; she was not, in theory, his superior, and she considered unnecessary gestures suspect. He did incline his head in the controlled nod that she offered first.
“You’ve a message for me?”
He handed her the scroll case.
“And she didn’t choose to send it through the usual channels.”
Demonstrably not. Jester kept the thought to himself.
“Did she send it through the Merchant Authority?”
“I’m not retained by the Merchant Authority,” he replied, keeping his voice both respectful and neutral. He chose to slouch slightly, diminishing the advantage of height; Ruby was surprisingly short, an impression lost pretty much the instant she opened her mouth.
“Do you know what she’s written?”
“I’m not retained by the Merchant Authority, and I’m not authorized to be part of its dealings. I have no idea what she wrote; I was asked to deliver the message today. You know as much as I do,” he added, when she failed to take the scroll from his extended hand. “But you have the opportunity to alleviate your curiosity in a manner that is forbidden me.”
She frowned.
“You can take it,” he continued, “and open it.”
He was honestly surprised at her reluctance; she’d appeared all but instantly, which implied a certain eagerness. Or fear. He almost pointed out that he was handling the case itself, without gloves or any other form of protection, and he had not incidentally dropped dead.
That level of sarcasm with Ruby could produce unfortunate results, but he found it difficult, as the minutes wore on, to hold it in. She finally took the case, handling it with enough care that she justified Jester’s silent sarcasm.
As this was exactly the type of social debacle he’d been burned by in his early introduction to patriciate society, he avoided it now. But he watched as she walked to a side table beneath the very generous windows. She set it down in the center of the bare, wooden surface. Jester frowned briefly. The table had escaped his notice; there was nothing about it to call it to his attention.
And that should have been clue enough. Ruby generally chose deliberate ostentation; if she chose to have something so sparse and plain in a room, it was meant to serve a different purpose.
The tabletop began to glow. Interesting.
“The scroll case is magical,” he told the Terafin merchant, his tone carefully neutral. “The message is meant to be both private and protected.”
She grimaced, still watching the table’s surface. After a pause of two silent minutes, she exhaled and lifted the case. Ruby was not generally considered paranoid; she was considered both canny and cautious, although she frequently chose to play a rougher game.
Clearly, she expected one now. From Finch.
His anger at Jarven grew edges; he saw the old man’s hand in the letter Finch had penned to Ludgar; he saw the old man’s shadow in Ruby’s reaction to a letter she had not yet read.
He retreated while Ruby, scroll case gripped so tightly it was a wonder it wasn’t crushed, magic notwithstanding, took a chair. She took, by habit, the finest chair in the room; not for Ruby the false modesty of hospitality. If you were on her turf, you acknowledged it, and you played by her rules.
Jester was ATerafin, but he labored under no
She had certainly not lined up behind Jay’s banner when Jay had been in the South. She had, on the other hand, made offers of support to three of the four contenders. She wanted the Merchant Authority. She didn’t want it enough to personally attempt to depose Jarven.
No one wanted it that much. Jester considered this fact far more significant than Finch did.
“They’re all afraid of Lucille,” she’d told him, grinning.
“Do you even believe that?” he’d asked.
She laughed, and signed
truce
before they could start an argument in earnest.
Jester rose the moment Ruby had crossed the threshold. He didn’t bow; she was not, in theory, his superior, and she considered unnecessary gestures suspect. He did incline his head in the controlled nod that she offered first.
“You’ve a message for me?”
He handed her the scroll case.
“And she didn’t choose to send it through the usual channels.”
Demonstrably not. Jester kept the thought to himself.
“Did she send it through the Merchant Authority?”
“I’m not retained by the Merchant Authority,” he replied, keeping his voice both respectful and neutral. He chose to slouch slightly, diminishing the advantage of height; Ruby was surprisingly short, an impression lost pretty much the instant she opened her mouth.
“Do you know what she’s written?”
“I’m not retained by the Merchant Authority, and I’m not authorized to be part of its dealings. I have no idea what she wrote; I was asked to deliver the message today. You know as much as I do,” he added, when she failed to take the scroll from his extended hand. “But you have the opportunity to alleviate your curiosity in a manner that is forbidden me.”
She frowned.
“You can take it,” he continued, “and open it.”
He was honestly surprised at her reluctance; she’d appeared all but instantly, which implied a certain eagerness. Or fear. He almost pointed out that he was handling the case itself, without gloves or any other form of protection, and he had not incidentally dropped dead.
That level of sarcasm with Ruby could produce unfortunate results, but he found it difficult, as the minutes wore on, to hold it in. She finally took the case, handling it with enough care that she justified Jester’s silent sarcasm.
As this was exactly the type of social debacle he’d been burned by in his early introduction to patriciate society, he avoided it now. But he watched as she walked to a side table beneath the very generous windows. She set it down in the center of the bare, wooden surface. Jester frowned briefly. The table had escaped his notice; there was nothing about it to call it to his attention.
And that should have been clue enough. Ruby generally chose deliberate ostentation; if she chose to have something so sparse and plain in a room, it was meant to serve a different purpose.
The tabletop began to glow. Interesting.
“The scroll case is magical,” he told the Terafin merchant, his tone carefully neutral. “The message is meant to be both private and protected.”
She grimaced, still watching the table’s surface. After a pause of two silent minutes, she exhaled and lifted the case. Ruby was not generally considered paranoid; she was considered both canny and cautious, although she frequently chose to play a rougher game.
Clearly, she expected one now. From Finch.
His anger at Jarven grew edges; he saw the old man’s hand in the letter Finch had penned to Ludgar; he saw the old man’s shadow in Ruby’s reaction to a letter she had not yet read.
He retreated while Ruby, scroll case gripped so tightly it was a wonder it wasn’t crushed, magic notwithstanding, took a chair. She took, by habit, the finest chair in the room; not for Ruby the false modesty of hospitality. If you were on her turf, you acknowledged it, and you played by her rules.
Jester was ATerafin, but he labored under no
Similar Books
