Robin Hobb - City of Dragons

Hest had been born in Bingtown. As he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the market prior to helping his mother down the steps, he reflected that in his childhood and youth, he had taken the town for granted. It was only when he was a young man and old enough to travel that foreign cities had shown him the superiority of his home.

“This way,” his mother announced decisively, and he was content to follow her through the thronged marketplace. He smiled. Bingtown was a place where the entire world came to trade, for only in Bingtown could one find the magical and wondrous artifacts of the Elderlings. Merchants who came to Bingtown to trade knew to bring their very best trading items if they wished to acquire Elderling magical items. As a result, the stocks in the stores of Bingtown were varied and rich, and the Bingtown Traders enjoyed a lifestyle that was unrivaled in the known world. That suited Hest admirably.

He enjoyed travel and the exotic pleasures that foreign cities might offer, but he had always been glad to return to Bingtown and its comforts. It was by far the most civilized city, for here trade was of the utmost importance, and a bargain was a bargain, forevermore. He was born of one of the old Trader families and expected to inherit his family’s wealth and their vote on the Traders’ Council. The best goods of the world made their way to his door, and he had the fortune to buy what he chose, hampered only by his father’s tightfisted ways. But his father would not live forever. One day he would own it all, and the wealth would be at his disposal. He would inherit it all… as long as he provided an heir to satisfy his father’s concern that there be yet another Finbok after Hest.

“Did you say something?” His mother looked over his shoulder at him. She had paused at one of the tiny market stalls that crowded the alleys between the proper shops.

“Just a slight cough.” He smiled at her and then, with an effort, kept the expression on his face. Just past her shoulder, his Chalcedean assailant mingled with the crowd. He was not looking their way; he appeared to be considering the purchase of some freshly fried fish, but the man’s profile was unmistakable. Also unmistakable was that the fellow was alive and apparently well. And he should have been neither. Hest had hired the best to deal with him and paid him well. Annoyance at being cheated of his money was a distant second to the rising fear in his heart.

He took his mother’s arm firmly. “What about that tea shop?” he asked her and tugged at her as he had not since he was a child. “Please, let’s visit it first, and then ramble through the stores.”

“Oh, you are such a boy, still!” She turned to smile at him, obviously delighted at his demand. “We’ll go then. Come. The tea shop I want to try is this way, right near the intersection of Prime with Rain Wild Street.”

Hest quickened his pace. He longed to look back, to see if the man had seen him and was following. But he didn’t dare. That glance back might be just the motion that would call the assassin’s attention to him. His smile was getting stiff. “You know, I haven’t been on Rain Wild Street in a while. Let’s shop there a bit, before we have our tea.”

“Well, aren’t you a weathervane today? But we can begin on Rain Wild Street, if you wish,” she agreed easily.

He wanted only to leave the Great Market and put some distance between himself and the Chalcedean. It had come to him suddenly that the warren of small and elegant shops that lined Rain Wild Street was the ideal place for them to disappear. They entered Rain Wild Street and as he let his mother slow to a saunter to consider the various shops and wares, he glanced back the way they had come. No sign of the man. Excellent. But he’d still have words for his so-called assassin. The man had promised him a quick quiet job. He’d want a bit of his money back for that failure. It was a good thing Hest himself had a keen eye and was quick thinking enough to get himself out of danger.

His nemesis evaded, he let the magical merchandise of the Rain Wild Street shops distract him. This was the street that Bingtown’s fame was founded upon. Here was where one came to buy goods from the Rain Wilds: perfume gems with their eternal fragrances; wind chimes that played endless, never-repeating melodies; objects made of gleaming jidzin; and hundreds of other magical items. Here, too, one might find the one-of-a-kind discoveries, often at one-of-a-kind prices. Containers that heated or chilled whatever was put into them. A statue that awoke as a babe every day, aged through the day, and “died” at night as an old man, only to be reborn with the dawn. Summer tapestries that smelled of flowers and brought warmth to the room when hung. Items that existed nowhere else in the world and were impossible to duplicate.

And scrolls and books, of course. He’d lost count of how many he’d had to pay for when Alise had found them here. That damned woman and her obsession with dragons and Elderlings! Look at all the trouble she had caused him. But, if she truly had made a claim on the new city, well, perhaps she would have been worth all the nuisance she had put him through.

Hest and his mother wandered the street of shops, exchanging comments on the merchandise. His mother bought a ring that changed with the phases of the moon and a scarf that had a cool side and a warm side. Hest quailed at the prices she paid, but he did nothing to dissuade her. Eventually, they found her tea shop and enjoyed an excellent repast together. The tea was as good as she had said it would be, and Hest arranged that a supply of several varieties be delivered to his home. Refreshed, they began to shop in earnest. They visited several tailor shops, and Hest allowed his mother to make all decisions about what was purchased for him. In each case, the tailor knew from past experience to wait to hear from Hest as to changed fabrics, colors, and cuts. He was most particular about his clothes, and as he did not often spend much time in his mother’s company, she never expected to see him wearing the clothing she had selected.

They visited a new cheese market she had heard of, and this time both of them made purchases to be sent to their homes. His mother then insisted that they go shopping for “gifts for that fickle woman you married” and demonstrated her disdain of Alise in her choice of gaudy scarves; cheap, sparkly jewelry; and hats more suited for a dowager than a woman of Alise’s years. Again, Hest gave way to her in all things. He had no intention of taking the trove of trinkets with him. Alise did not deserve any gifts. He would go to the Rain Wilds, assert his rights to her, and be damned to anyone or anything that stood in his way. He had an absolutely legal claim to her. She was his wife, and he intended to assert the marriage contract that they had both signed. He’d put an end to her foolish declaration of freedom and regain his right to share in whatever claim she’d made to the city. That was all there was to it.

“Don’t grind your teeth, dear. It’s a most unsettling noise,” his mother observed.

“I suppose I’m just a bit weary. Shall we go home, then?”

She had her carriage drop him at his own door. He went in to discover that some of his purchases had already been delivered. He sent the tea and the cheese off to the kitchen, with a message that he wished a pot of hot tea prepared for him immediately. He went to his study, composed a list of the various changes for each tailor, and called one of his servants to deliver those. Annoying to do all these small organizational tasks himself, but Redding was hopeless at them and Ched would have stood at attention, asking questions about each detail. Not like Sedric, who had often known his mind before Hest knew it himself. Stupid Ched.