Dragon Soul (10 page)

He paused before a ramshackle building, this one given the distinction of having brick walls instead of wood, though the mortar between them was crumbling and their red color had faded into a dreary shade of gray. It was the most unimposing building I’d ever seen, as though it had been assuming since it was built that time or calamity would tear it down again.

I waited, hands in my pockets, as Nor knocked on the door, then took off before anyone could answer, looking at me over his shoulder and gesturing for me to follow.

“Been raided by the Provost’s wolves a couple times,” Nor explained. “Seems old Dmitri’s had more time on his hands now that the
war’s over and all. Can’t be too careful; everyone needs a trick or two in case the wolves start sniffing.”

I nodded, mindful of my surroundings as we stepped off the main street in case there was some mischief at hand. I was well acquainted with Provost Dmitri. In fact, we’d grown up in the same home for unwanted children, smack-dab on the border between Charlotte and Miranda, though not so obviously that it would remind the more frivolously minded citizens of the consequences of visiting Our Lady of a Thousand Fans too often. He’d been something of a companion to me in my lonelier times, and though I’d never sought out companionship, I couldn’t call it anything other than that.

More than our distinguished background, however, we also shared a common bond in that our value as citizens of Volstov was measured in direct correlation with how useful we could prove to the Esar. Dmitri was a handsome man, if overly serious, and he refused to ignore the darker corners of Molly the way a sane man might have. I liked him, or was at least somewhat amused by his stubbornness, but my opinion was not a popular one among these people. Instead of offering it, I spat into the street. Such gestures had an eloquence of their own, and I felt it would be the sort of response Nor could appreciate.

The path he was leading me down was little more than a space between buildings for housewives to throw the day’s piss and shit. Rats ate their meals and orphans made their beds here, and I was grateful for the dim light that filtered in from above the rooftops, if not the smell.

“Watch your step,” Nor mentioned, and I was only too grateful to oblige.

When he halted, it was in front of a heavy-looking metal door, the bottom of it crusty and laced with rust. It looked like one solid kick would send it to pieces.

“This here’s the real door,” Nor said, giving it a sharp thump with his knuckles. “You knock once on the front to let ’em know to expect you,
then
you come around here. Door won’t be unlocked otherwise, and like enough if you come straight here, they’ll assume you’re sniffing ’em out, if you know what I mean.”

“Easy way to a quick end,” I agreed. “I’ll remember that.”

The door gave a heavy groan and Nor stepped backward quickly as it swung open. The inside corridor wasn’t lit, which made it difficult to
see, but lamps were rare below Charlotte, and to burn one during the day was an unheard-of luxury. If there was someone who’d opened the door, in any case, I couldn’t see them now, and Nor didn’t greet anyone as he stepped inside, clearly expecting me to follow.

I did, cataloging the things I’d learned thus far. Unlike most buildings in Molly, this one was made of brick, which meant that the sounds of whatever happened inside would
stay
inside instead of becoming fair game for any passerby to eavesdrop upon. In addition, there was a fairly primitive system of checks in place, though evidently there was more to it than I’d been shown—provisions made for if someone
didn’t
know the proper steps—but I was not the sort of person to forget such things. As I thought this over, my nose began to prickle, and the sensation spread irresistibly to my throat. Drifting in from some hidden room was the unmistakable scent of incense—a sandalwood blend that was far too expensive for any Mollyrat worth his claws. This particular variety was of interest especially because it was a
foreign
smell. Sandalwood was preferred by Ke-Han magicians for use in clearing their minds, and as far as I was aware, the practice had not yet spread to our fair shores.

In time it might have become all the rage, but it was certainly not the sort of practice that would rise from the bottom up.

“That smell,” I began thoughtfully.

“Reeks to high heaven, don’t it?” Nor agreed, from somewhere in front of me. “They think it classes up the joint when really all it does is stick in my craw something fierce. Leave it to the Ke-Han to think they can improve on good, clean air, huh?”

“Indeed,” I said, making a show of clearing my own throat.

We came to a curtain, a heavy velvet affair that was thick with dust. Nor paused before drawing it aside and I could tell that he was enjoying himself. In his hands he held the power to reveal another world, as it were, to someone lower than himself. Mollyscum didn’t get much chance to feel better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t waste
too
much of my time, there was no harm in allowing him the delight of drawing the moment out.

“It’s Nor,” my guide said. “Nor by Nor’east today. I’ve brought a guest for you.”

“What’s his number?” a man asked.

“He’s decent,” Nor said. “I shook him down myself.”

“Buy or sell?”

“He’s selling, I think,” Nor replied. “Funny little bugger.”

This was my cue, and I drew the scale out of my secret pocket as the curtain was drawn back fully.

Whatever I’d been expecting to see, it certainly wasn’t what lay behind that curtain: a smallish, shabby room that someone had taken great effort to decorate in their idea of the Ke-Han style. There was the incense, in a curious bronze dish shaped like a tiger, and various standing screens were scattered here and there, in direct antithesis to the Ke-Han principles of austerity. Most folk in Molly hardly had enough things to fill up a room, let alone decorate it, so one could hardly blame them for going a bit overboard with such a wealth of exciting, foreign items at hand.

“You the seller?” The same man who’d asked the questions glanced over, looking me up and down. He was a geometric breed of person—square head, straight shoulders, and a rectangular body—and he was seated in a Volstovic-style chair, though I noticed he’d seen fit to decorate it with an elaborately embroidered Ke-Han cushion.

“That’s me,” I said, the metal of the scale warm against my gloved palm.

There weren’t any other chairs in the room, but there were more cushions. They were plainer than the one the man had chosen to adorn
his
chair, but that was to be expected. I sat, crossing my legs beneath me.

“Saw you admiring my tiger,” the square-shaped man said, in a way that told me immediately which piece was his favorite. Men could be so predictable at times. “Had a monkey that came with it, but that went last week.”

“What if I told you that I’ve got something in my possession that’ll blow monkeys and tigers right out of the water?” I said, laying the scale bare and holding it out like an offering, without hiding anything like I had down at the docks.

Trying to be coy here would only make it look as though I was trying to pull a fast one, and it would be doing an unkindness to Nor by Nor’east to make myself out as a person of questionable motivation.

The man’s eyebrows shot up as though they’d been fired from a cannon and he leaned forward, his interest plain and the chair creaking beneath his weight.

“Where’d a slip of a thing like you get a piece like
that
, hey?” he
asked. “I’m not so bold as to think all Ke-Han junk comes through me first, but I pride myself on getting the best of the goods—my own joke, there.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said, sidestepping the question.

“You don’t look like a soldier,” he said. “Where’s it from?”

“I wasn’t, but my brother was,” I said. “He’s dead. It’s a memento from the war, and I’m looking to sell.”

The excuse seemed to satisfy him. “You won’t get its worth trying to pawn it off on your own, that’s for certain,” the man said, stroking his square chin in thought. He had a three days’ beard growing, not yet at the stage where it was substantial, and there was a scar on his chin that marred the effect somewhat.

“That’s why I’m here,” I answered, sitting up straight but not
too
straight. “Easier to move a piece with the right connections, and I hear you’ve got quite a few.”

“Can’t be beat,” he said, looking as proud as if I’d just complimented one of his children. “I could probably find some idiot from the Basquiat with more brains than sense to peddle it off to, but doing business in
dragon
parts is tricky up near Miranda. Dangerous work, if the wrong man overhears,” he added, and drew his finger across his throat in the universal gesture for losing one’s head.

“I’m quite attached to my head,” I said. Here was where I had to be careful and influence the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go. I couldn’t afford to sell the scale the Esar had given me
within
Thremedon itself; I’d worked out already that my best bet would be to try to get a foreign buyer, which would at least lead me to the point where those in Thremedon traded off with those from other nations. It wasn’t a gamble, but it was also far from a sure thing. “I want to buy a big house next to th’Esar’s palace, not end up buried underneath it.”

“That’s the only way most of us’ll ever end up in Miranda,” the man said, then laughed a wheezing sort of laugh that was more like a cough. “You’re right, though, and I’m not that keen on losing
my
head either. Be better off with a foreign investor, someone with no ties to Volstov
or
the Ke-Han. Can’t let something like that fall into the wrong hands, now can we?”

“Do you already have someone in mind?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over the blackened surface of the scale. It had a curious feeling
to it, hard yet with a bit of a give if you pressed against it—almost the way flesh would have.

But of course, there was no telling with magicians.

“Not someone,” the man said. “More like, a whole
lot
of someones. And whoever I pick, it’s his lucky day, you understand?”

“I see,” I said. “All foreigners?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “Listen, I’ll let you in on a little secret of the market, because you’re a first timer and Nor vouched for you and all. Since the war ended, even countries that weren’t involved
—especially
countries that weren’t involved—want themselves a little piece of the history that took place. No one ever thought the damned thing
would
end, so now that it has, everyone’s in a celebrating mood. And when people celebrate, their purse strings get loose. Everyone’s looking to turn a profit, but to do that, you’ve got to shell it out first.”

“Fascinating,” I breathed, and meant it. There was nothing I enjoyed more than learning a new fact about the way people operated, and mentally I filed this bit of information along with the rest.

“’Course some folk are on the lookout for more than just mementos, but I wouldn’t bother you with that lot. They’re
real
particular. When it comes to a piece like yours,” the man continued, “a real part of one of Volstov’s
dragons
now, I’m not even going to have to put it on the open market. I’ll pass the word to a few choice contacts, real classy gentlemen, and soon you’ll have more suitors than you can shake a stick at, friend.”

“And what do I owe you for this kind favor?” Only a fool did favors in Molly without expecting something in return, and it was up to the recipient to ask up front or else
he
was the fool. I neatly skirted around his mention of
particular
customers, not knowing whether that was a warning to me, that he’d perhaps sensed something off and wanted to see if I’d nibble.

No such luck. Even in Molly, I was a well-trained professional.

“I get a cut of whatever you make. Twenty percent is standard on high-ticket items, and I can’t say as things get any higher ticket than this.”

“Done,” I said, without compunction. The Esar provided me with an allowance, as well as covering any costs I incurred while working for him. Money was no object. I would cheerfully pay off this man out of
my own pocket—or the Esar’s own pocket—in order to achieve my ends.

What
was
objectionable, I realized, was the idea of anyone unsavory getting wind of this deal before it was finalized. Like the man had said, word spread fast over something this hot, and if Dmitri’s men were to hear of the deal and shut things down before they got under way, I ran the risk of losing my only lead.

I certainly didn’t cherish the idea of having to return to the Esar to ask if he happened to have any other spare parts lying around that I could use, nor did I think Nor would be so open-minded to strangers in the future, no matter how neat my next disguise was.

The man sitting in the chair got up and held out his hand. I switched the scale to my other hand and took it, shaking once firmly as I’d practiced so many times, then releasing him.

“Nice doing business with an interesting chap for a change,” he said, with a glance at Nor that I supposed meant
he
fell into the uninteresting category. “Nor here’ll be in contact to let you know when we’ve got a buyer. As a personal favor, I’ll weed out any offers that I don’t find worth our time.”

“Very generous of you,” I said, the understanding between us that he was also being generous to himself.

With a short bow to the man and to Nor, I left.

Soon, I hoped, depending on how quickly the market’s lines ran, I would have a point from which I could start. After that, I would trace the trajectory from Thremedon until I came to the point of origin of where these parts were being sold. In the meantime, it looked as though I’d be spending my time in Molly. Still, my game didn’t have to be all waiting, not now that I’d discovered some further business that required attending to.

I didn’t much cherish the idea of conducting said business in my current attire, but there was nothing to be done for it.

I had to go speak with the Provost.