Darren Shan - The Thin Executioner

Tel Hesani laughed, told Jebel to put his clothes back on, and went down to find out if he could buy some milk and honey.

Jebel spent the next forty-eight hours in bed, shivering and coughing, but he was gradually improving, and Tel Hesani thought they would be able to resume their march north by the end of the week.

When he wasn’t nursing Jebel, Tel Hesani spent his time exploring the meager markets of Jedir, asking questions related to trade. He’d spotted one of the guards from the gate talking with the barman not long after they arrived. He felt he should back up his story by acting as if he was a trader. So he did the rounds, paying a translator to ask questions about supply, price, and delivery times. He pretended to be a representative of an influential group. He didn’t talk much about his business but allowed a few “hints” to slip, letting people believe he’d struck a deal to trade with the Um Siq.

On the third day Jebel felt a lot better. After a short examination, Tel Hesani agreed to let him come down for lunch. The pair were at the top of the stairs, Tel Hesani ahead of Jebel, when the door to the room beside theirs swung open, and a man boomed happily, “The bet is mine, Master Blair!”

“Indeed, Master Bush,” came the reply. “You’re a keen judge of circumstance.”

Jebel whirled around with excitement. “Master Bush! Master Blair!”

The two traders from Shihat were standing in the doorway, beaming. They were dressed in the same clothes they had been wearing in Abu Aineh, although Master Bush now wore thick, knee-length socks beneath his tunic, and both had heavy grey capes draped around their shoulders.

“Greetings, Jebel Rum,” Master Bush smiled, stroking his goatee, which was thicker than before.

“And greetings to you also, Tel Hesani,” said Master Blair, clapping Jebel on the back, then striding forward to clasp the slave’s hand.

“How long have you been here?” Jebel exclaimed. “We’re staying in the room next door!”

“We know,” Master Bush said. “We could tell by the snores.” He chuckled. “Actually, we arrived only a few hours ago. As we were checking in, we heard talk of a pair of traders who had come through Abu Siq. I said to Master Blair, ‘I bet those are the friends we left behind in Shihat.’ ”

“To which I replied, ‘Don’t be a fool!’ ” Master Blair grimaced. “I thought you would have been chewed to pieces by alligators long ago.”

“We nearly were,” Jebel said. “There were snakes too, and—”

“Hush, my young friend,” Master Bush interrupted. “I’m sure you have many thrilling stories to tell, but such delights are best shared over a meal. And while the food here is… I hesitate to say disgusting… not of the highest possible standards, it should nevertheless provide a fitting backdrop to your stirring tales.”

Laughing warmly, the slim trader led the way down to the dining area and insisted that he and Master Blair treat the weary travelers to lunch.

Masters Bush and Blair had enjoyed a pleasant journey since they had parted company with Jebel and Tel Hesani. The traders had sailed up the westernmost tributary of the as-Surout before crossing to Hassah on foot. They conducted some business there—“We made… it would be inaccurate to say a fortune… but a more than modest profit,” Master Blair purred — then sailed to Abu Saga through the al-Attieg gorge. They’d met with a few miners and discussed their plans for mining in the lands north of the al-Meata mountains and were now on their way to Disi, the capital of Abu Saga.

“Disi’s where the action is,” Master Bush declared. “Most of the miners we spoke with weren’t interested in our proposals, but we’ll find keener ears in Disi.”

They were impressed by Jebel and Tel Hesani’s adventures and pressed them for details. They asked a few questions about the um Khathib, how they lived, and what they traded, but their interest in the swamp folk was nothing compared to their eagerness to learn about the Um Siq. They wanted to know the condition of the path in the siq, the layout of the buildings, their military strength, and so on. Tel Hesani didn’t say much. Jebel spoke more freely, describing Abu Siq as clearly as he could, enjoying the envious looks of the traders and their lavish compliments.

“They must be overflowing with riches,” Master Blair murmured.

“Yes,” said Master Bush. “Are the legends true? Do they really sleep on beds of gold and play marbles with gems?”

Jebel laughed and was about to tell them how ridiculous the legends were, when Tel Hesani laid a hand on his knee and squeezed. Jebel winced and glared at the slave but then recalled his promise to Ramman and flushed.

“The legends are exaggerated,” he muttered, “but only slightly.”

“Do they leave diamonds lying around?” Master Blair asked. “Are the streets overrunning with swagah? Could you stroll along, fill your pockets, and walk out a rich man?”

“No,” Tel Hesani said. “They guard their riches hawkishly. Only a very brave and stupid man would try to steal from the Um Siq.”

Master Blair’s face dropped, but Master Bush smirked. “I never did believe the legends. Tell me more of the Khazneh. It sounds like a marvelous spectacle.”

As Jebel started to describe the Khazneh again, three Um Saga entered the inn. They were all heavily bearded and dressed in dark blue clothes. One was carrying a rusty ring on his belt from which dozens of tiny keys hung. When Master Blair saw this, he cocked his head and eyed the man speculatively. Rising, he made an excuse and strolled to the bar, where he introduced himself to the trio and had a hushed conversation. After a while he returned to the table and smiled as he sat. “I thought I knew one of them, but I was mistaken.”

Jebel had been talking of their fight with the mamlah. As he recounted it again for Master Blair, the trader laid his right hand on the table and began lightly drumming with his fingertips. Neither Jebel nor Tel Hesani noticed, but Master Bush’s eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips. He rubbed his left ear, stole a glance at the Um Saga, then gave the ear a meaningful tug.

“You must be thirsty after all that talking,” Master Bush said, getting up. “Let me fill your mugs.” He took the boy’s and reached for Tel Hesani’s. “Anything stronger than water for you, my friend?”

“No,” Tel Hesani said. “In fact, I think we should return to our—”

“Don’t rush off!” Master Blair exclaimed, grabbing Tel Hesani’s mug and shoving it at Master Bush. “I know the boy’s been poorly, but talk is good for him. Let’s have one more drink, then we can all retire for the afternoon.”

“How about goat’s milk?” Master Bush asked. “A mug for each of you. Milk’s good for healing, especially if you add a spoonful or two of honey.”

“They have no honey here,” said Tel Hesani.

“But we do,” Master Bush beamed. “Master Blair has a sweet tooth, and we never travel without a few jars. I’ll fetch some.”

Tel Hesani checked with Jebel. “I don’t want to go up just yet,” Jebel said.

“Very well.” Tel Hesani nodded gratefully at Master Bush. “But you paid for the earlier drinks, so please let us pay for these.”

“Nonsense,” Master Bush snorted. Before Tel Hesani could argue, the trader hurried to the bar, where he called for two mugs of their finest milk, then darted upstairs and returned with a large bag. Setting the bag down next to the mugs, he undid it, took the top off a jar hidden inside, and stuck a spoon into it. With his back to Tel Hesani and the others, he transferred a couple of spoonfuls to one of the mugs, then half a spoonful to the other, before screwing the top back on the jar and tying up the bag. As he carried the mugs to the table, the three Um Saga at the bar paid for their drinks and left.