Fall of a Kingdom (The Farsala Trilogy) (7 page)

“Aren’t you a bit young for this trade, boy?” The deghan didn’t look angry. There was suspicion in his expression, yes, but also amusement and a kind of wild cheer, as if he’d just received good news. It was only because Kavi, who wasn’t short, had to look up to see his face, and the strength of the hand gripping his shoulder, that made him seem formidable.

“The road doesn’t care if I’m young or not,” said Kavi cautiously. “And my goods are worthy, whatever my age. The bracelet was just a stroke of good luck.”

The deghan released his grip with a small shove that made Kavi stumble on the soft rugs.

“I hate to cast doubt on your good fortune,” said the deghan, “but perhaps we should make certain you weren’t cheated.” He pulled out his knife and set the point casually against the bracelet’s shining surface, his gaze intent on Kavi’s face.

Kavi wasn’t worried. This happened at some point in every sale. “Noble sir, if you damage it, you’ve destroyed its value!” The standard protest and true enough. It usually assured that the buyer made an even shallower nick than he’d intended.

“You’re right, of course.” The deghan turned the bracelet in his hand. “And it’s a lovely thing. Look good on your arm, sparrow.”

The plain girl giggled, but her eyes shifted curiously from Kavi to the deghan. The haughty one frowned.

“I won’t mark it,” said the deghan. His knife clicked into its sheath, but Kavi didn’t mistake this for surrender. For the first time he felt a chill.

“What will you be doing, then?”

“Oh, don’t worry, boy.” The deghan took Kavi’s arm and pulled him out of the pavilion. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was too firm to break. Kavi began to be alarmed.

The girls followed them out into the night, even when the deghan moved away from the fire toward the chopping block the servants had set up at the edge of the clearing. The ax was still embedded in it. Kavi’s breath caught. “Noble sir! You can’t!”

“Ah, I told you not to worry. Well, if you’re honest, you don’t have to worry. If it’s gold throughout, I’ll pay you its full worth, with an eagle thrown in for doubting you.”

He released Kavi with another of those little shoves. Kavi let his stumble take him closer to the bushes than it might have. His heart was pounding now. With any other man, he might have tried to bluff his way out, but one look at this man’s shrewd eyes told him that would fail—and he knew better than to expect mercy from a noble. But he knew when the moment to flee would come. He could steal Duckie out of the deghan’s herd sometime in the future. The loss of his pack…well, better that than his fingers.

“But if you’re the one the city guard was talking about,” the deghan went on, “well, that’s another matter.”

City guard?
Definitely time to run.

The deghan pried the ax out of the block and set the slender bracelet where it had been. His gaze locked with Kavi’s.

Kavi’s shrug was a masterpiece. “As long as you pay full price. Perhaps you can have it mended.”

The deghan laughed. “I think I like you, boy.” He lifted the ax, eyes still on Kavi’s face. Then his gaze flicked away, perforce, as he brought the ax down.

Now!
While the deghan was looking away and all eyes tracked the fall of the ax, Kavi spun and darted for the bushes. If he could just—

He ran headfirst into a warm, muscular body that oofed at the impact. But that didn’t stop the hands that clamped down on Kavi’s shoulders.

He couldn’t afford to be taken. He hooked one foot around the other man’s ankle and pulled, reaching out to shove him back at the same time, planning to run right over his fallen body. It was a good move, one he’d taught Hama.

It worked this time too, except the man grabbed Kavi’s hands as he pushed him, dragging Kavi down on top of him when he fell.

Kavi tried to pull his wrists free, then he twisted them, and the tight fingers began to yield. But suddenly the ground heaved and the world flipped around. Kavi’s head struck the earth with stunning force; when it cleared, he was lying on his back, with the other man seated on his stomach, reaching for his wrists again.

Kavi flung his right hand out of reach, but the man captured his left wrist in an iron grasp. Kavi tried to grab his opponent’s wrist, but the weakened fingers of his right hand betrayed him, as they always did. The man pulled out of his grip as if it were a babe’s and grabbed Kavi’s other wrist, pinning him. Before Kavi could twist his wrists free again, the man rolled to his feet, bringing Kavi with him, but with a skillful twist that pulled Kavi’s left arm up behind his back in such a way that it would break if Kavi tried to flee. The man knew what he was doing, djinn take him, even down to recognizing the weakness of Kavi’s right hand and pinning his left instead. A soldier? Someone trained in wrestling, for certain.

Kavi staggered forward, bent almost double by the ache in his shoulder, and ended on his knees before the chopping block. The bracelet lay there, cut neatly in half. Lead gleamed dully inside its casing of gold-coated bronze.

When in doubt, lie.
“I didn’t know, noble sir, truly I didn’t. The man deceived me.”

The deghan snorted. He hadn’t moved an inch from the block, curse him. His expression no longer held the manic amusement that had brightened it before, but at least he didn’t look murderously angry. “Weak, very weak,” he pronounced. “If you thought it was gold all through, why did you run?”

“I knew you’d not be willing to pay full price for a broken bracelet, and I feared you’d turn your anger against me,” said Kavi quickly, though this lie was weaker still. He fought to control his expression. “Mercy, noble sir, my mother is a widow, and—”

“Be still.” It was an order, for all its softness, and Kavi fell silent as the deghan reached out and lifted his right hand, so the light of the distant fire highlighted the scar on his palm. “Let’s get ourselves inside. No use letting more see you than need be.”

The deghan’s eyes were on the man who held Kavi—a man who evidently wasn’t supposed to be here. But without knowing why he wasn’t supposed to be here, Kavi couldn’t think of a way to blackmail them.

The deghan led the way back to the ladies’ pavilion, which happened to be nearest, and lifted the flap with ironic courtesy as Kavi’s captor dragged him inside. The two girls trailed behind, but the deghan, as Kavi craned his neck to see, gestured to someone outside. A few moments later he came in, absurdly quiet for such a big man. “Let him go, Jiaan. If he runs, he won’t get far.”

The iron grip on Kavi’s wrist vanished, and he fell forward, catching himself on his hands. He considered scrambling to his feet and bolting, despite the deghan’s words, but the noble was between him and the entrance. Rubbing his wrist, he turned to look at the man behind him. Not a man, he saw now, but a youth near his own age. He looked a lot like the deghan, but he wasn’t dressed richly enough to be a son. At least, not a legitimate son. Whoever he was, his hands were open and ready to grapple.

The deghan came forward and squatted to take Kavi’s hand again, studying the scar. It took all of Kavi’s self-control not to snatch it back. “What’s your real name, Barmahn of wherever?”

“Naru,” said Kavi reluctantly. “Of Desafon.”

The noble snorted. “If you insist.” He nodded toward Kavi’s hand. “This was bad, boy. How did it happen?”

The cruel master or the accident at sea?
Either would do. Kavi took a breath.

“Never mind,” said the deghan, rising to his feet. “You’d only lie. And I suppose the cause matters less than the consequence. Did you know the Setesafon guard is looking for you? They’ve found three pieces of your false gold so far. Soon anyone who bought anything from a young peddler with a scarred hand will be coming forward.”

Kavi’s heart beat like a hammer, fast and hard. This was disaster. But at least they weren’t looking for Hama. Beneath the fear curiosity stirred. “How did they find out?” He’d have sworn his gilding was deep enough to pass any test.

The deghan’s lips twitched. “It was Gorahz who undid you. Man got into a fight with his wife, and when the djinn of rage seized him, he picked up the new gold pot she’d been bragging about and threw it at the hearth. It hit the edge of the stone and dented deeply enough that they could see the bronze. You’ve performed one good service, boy. They’re now united as close as any couple could be, in howling for your blood. It’ll be up to the magister, of course, but the guards are suggesting one finger for each piece you sold. How many did you sell, anyway?”

Kavi’s fingers curled into protective fists, despite himself. The deghan grinned. “That many? Not that it would take many to cripple you, if they started with your left hand.”

“Are you enjoying this?” Kavi demanded. If he was, then Kavi was coming back for the bastard someday. Assuming there was enough left of his hands after the magister got through with him for him to do anything but beg. Kavi didn’t believe in Sanglak or in any other djinn—that was a deghan’s excuse—but he now understood why the nobles might believe in him, for surely despair this pure couldn’t have been generated solely in Kavi’s own heart.

“No, I’m not. Stop looking like that.” The deep voice was stern but oddly gentle. “I’ve no intention of turning you over to the guard; I have use for you myself. I just wanted to make the penalty for disobeying me very clear.”

Hope stirred. If this business was as dirty and desperate as it sounded, Kavi might gain some leverage for counterblackmail after all.

The deghan snorted again. “Don’t think you can use what I’m going to tell you against me either. You might cause me trouble, but if you do, I’ll take you down with me. And I think you’ll lose more than I.”

No doubt. A wealthy deghan could buy or influence his way out of anything short of assassinating the gahn. But when had Kavi’s face become so revealing?

“What do you want from me?” If the deghan’s plans were too vicious, Kavi could always run later and take his chances. Though this deghan didn’t seem as vicious as some.

“Nothing dreadful,” said the noble, reading Kavi’s face with annoying ease. “Where do your rounds run, and how often do you make them?”

Kavi blinked in surprise, but at this point he had little to lose by an honest answer. “I go to the small towns and villages north and south of the Trade Road. I’m usually getting through them twice a year. Sometimes faster.”

“How far north?” The deghan made it sound like a casual question, but Kavi heard the youth behind him stir nervously.

“I follow the foothills,” said Kavi. “Into the mountains sometimes. Mining towns and camps.” He preferred to avoid the high, grassy plains that held the deghans’ herds and manors.

“Excellent.” The big bastard almost purred. “I want you to add a stop to your rounds, Master whatever-your-name-really-is. You’ll go twice a year and give the folk there anything they need. If they want something you don’t have, you’ll get it for them. Then, when you come near the army, you’ll find some excuse to contact me and bring me any news.”

“Twice a
year
?” It was the haughty girl. Kavi had all but forgotten the girls’ presence.

“How many years?”

At the same time the youth, Jiaan, murmured urgently, “Commander, how can you trust this man? He’s a criminal to start with!”

“Not many, cub.” The deghan answered the girl first. “Probably not even two. But this way, you’ll be able to get supplies, and I can get news of you from a source no one will suspect. It’s the only thing that was lacking.

“And trust,” he said turning to Jiaan, “has nothing to do with it.”

The deghan’s searching gaze returned to Kavi, who wished it hadn’t. “Tomorrow you’ll take an early departure, just like you probably planned. Jiaan, who you will never admit to having seen here tonight, will pick you up later somewhere on the road. After a few more days the two of you will meet with the lady”—he nodded toward the haughty girl—“and go to the place that you’ll make part of your route. You will never mention that place, or the lady Soraya’s existence, to anyone. You’ll stop there twice a year until I give you leave to quit.

“If you do these things, I’ll pay you generously for all the goods you deliver there; and when your service ends, I’ll reward you handsomely. If you fail to obey any of these orders, in word or in deed, I will dedicate all my forces to hunting you down and then turn you over to Setesafon’s magisters. And a peddler your age with a crippled hand”—he nudged Kavi’s fingers with the toe of one boot—“won’t be very hard to find. So I advise you to keep a still tongue and make your stops, peddler.”

“I never skip stops,” said Kavi grimly. “I won’t be starting with this one.”

What choice did he have?