Keith Decandido - Under the Crimson Sun

But Karalith was shaking her head. “It is not my father who makes those decisions, I’m afraid.”

That prompted a frown. “What a pity. So rare anymore to find a man who can stand up to his wife.” Belrik sounded wistful when he said that.

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but eventually Belrik came to realize that Karalith was never going to be able to go with him on his treasure hunt.

Karalith did her best to convey disappointment in her inability to do so until he finally got back on his crodlu and left the bazaar.

The moment he was out of sight, Karalith turned to Tricht’tha and grinned broadly. “Well done.”

The thri-kreen laughed, a lovely chittering noise. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“Luckily, we heard about his shrew of a wife,” Karalith said. “Made it easier to convince him that Mother would never let me leave and Father couldn’t do anything about that.”

“I’m just glad we were able to fleece that dungeater for Lyd’s sake.”

Just then, Zabaj and Feena finally came back to the emporium, holding hands. They made an entertaining contrast, the towering, dark mul and the petite, blond human. Torthal hadn’t been thrilled when they started their relationship. “You don’t dip into your own sand,” he always said. Karalith wasn’t even sure what that meant, but Feena and Zabaj seemed happy, so she didn’t see what the problem was. Occasionally, someone would look askance, but most people didn’t care. It was a hard world-most people figured that if you found love, you should hang onto it. There wasn’t much chance of long-term happiness there-muls were generally sterile and Zabaj was no exception-but when you lived your life wandering through the desert from place to place, you didn’t have the luxury of thinking long term.

Komir gave Zabaj a pleading look, and the latter came over to help Karalith’s brother deal with his customer in a language he would understand. Feena gave him a quick kiss on his meaty hand before letting go of it and joining Karalith and Tricht’tha behind the table.

Having finished with the elf couple, Torthal and Shira also came over. “Well done on the stern-mother expression, my love,” Torthal said.

“Flatterer,” Shira replied with a mock-demure look.

“Oh, and well done you,” Torthal said to Karalith. “Good enough that we took that pampered idiot for a thousand gold, but getting him to pay two coppers a foot for the linens without him even blinking was genius.”

Feena pouted. “I missed all of it?”

“Afraid so,” Karalith said. “He just left, having received a gentle turn-down to my accompanying him on his ‘adventure.’ ”

Tricht’tha made several appreciative clicks. “She was brilliant.”

“So were you,” Karalith said. “You play the frantic customer quite well.”

“What’s this about the linens?” Feena asked.

“He was fondling the silk so eagerly,” Karalith said, “that he barely registered when I said the linens were two coppers a foot instead of one, especially since the silk was so much more expensive. I was worried that that old tutor of his would say something.”

“Perhaps Cristophe didn’t know any better,” Tricht’tha said. “Or perhaps he deliberately kept quiet as to their worth to annoy him for making him carry his ancient carapace to the bazaar all day. Probably that, honestly. He spoke Chachik better than any non-thri-kreen I’ve ever heard.”

Karalith regarded Tricht’tha. “He must’ve created an impression-I didn’t even remember his name.”

In Chachik, Tricht’tha said, “He speaks my language a lot better than you.”

Feena laughed. “I’m glad you managed to finish it. Wish I’d seen-how much linen did the idiot buy?”

With a grin, Karalith said, “A hundred feet.”

Shira smiled. “I never object to a one-hundred-copper profit.”

Tricht’tha started rummaging through the pouch Belrik had handed over. “Now, we take out three hundred for Gash for forging the map-”

“No,” Karalith said quickly, “only two hundred. He screwed up the first forgery, remember?”

“Huh?” Feena asked.

“Because Belrik drags Tricht’tha’s dear friend Cristophe with him to the bazaar, we had to make sure that there was a particular impurity in the parchment. That was the only way we’d sell it to him. Gash forgot that on the first treasure map he made for us, so he had to make another one and take a hundred off the price.”

“Or,” Tricht’tha added, “have his reputation permanently soiled. If word got out that he forgot so simple a characteristic, he’d never get any forgery work again.”

“Certainly not from us,” Torthal said, “and we’re his best customer.”

Feena nodded. “So we can still give Lyd five hundred?”

“Of course,” Karalith said. “That was what we promised her to get back at dear, sweet Vizier Belrik for blacklisting her.”

Turning to Tricht’tha, Feena asked, “May I please go with you to give Lyd the five hundred? I couldn’t participate in the game, the least I can do is present her prize.”

Tricht’tha turned her large red eyes onto Torthal and Shira. “I have no objection, if you don’t.”

“Why couldn’t you participate in the game?” Shira asked. “The delivery was at sunup.”

Torthal added, “You didn’t stop to fornicate along the way, did you?”

Punching Torthal in the arm, Shira said, “Torthal, stop that.”

“It’s a reasonable question.”

Feena glared at Shira. “No, it isn’t. Zabaj and I wouldn’t do that.” She sighed. “No, when we arrived, we discovered that the boy who bought the merchandise did so without the consent of his parents. It took a great deal of arguing before they were finally convinced to actually accept delivery.” She smiled. “I used a bit of persuasion. But it still took some time.”

Karalith chuckled. Feena had mind-magic-what those who were trained in it called “the Way”-which was often helpful when they played the game on someone. It was particularly useful for the tougher players, but Belrik was sufficiently predictable-thanks to what Lyd told them-that Feena’s extra help wasn’t needed.

Sometimes Karalith wondered how Feena’s life might have differed had she been born to a class that would have enabled her to study at a school teaching the Way. Such schools were all over Athas, and they trained people who went on to advise businesses, merchants, nobles, and monarchs.

They’d never know, of course, but Feena was already fairly skilled with her abilities just from what she taught herself. Had she been properly trained in the Way, she probably would have blossomed into a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, had circumstances permitted that, Karalith probably never would have met Feena or her brother.

“Fine, go on,” Torthal said to Feena and Tricht’tha, “but try to get back before the lunch crowd arrives.”

“Of course,” Feena said.

“And,” Torthal added, “you’ve still got to take those spices to that family at midday.”

“Yes, of course.” Feena and Tricht’tha had already started walking toward the gate in the Raam city wall that would lead them to the Coins Quarter and the small house that Lyd could no longer afford to rent since Belrik blacklisted her. With the five hundred gold, though, she’d be able to start over somewhere beyond Belrik’s reach.

Karalith, meanwhile, went back to the carriage, having extracted the remaining five hundred gold in ceramic coins from the pouch, letting Tricht’tha and Feena take Belrik’s pouch to Lyd.

The thing was a mess, as usual. It drove Karalith mad, it really did, to see clothing and bedclothes tossed about all over the place, parchments piled haphazardly, and spare merchandise unsorted. The bazaars tended to be frantic affairs, and the off-hours were usually spent recovering from being at the table all day. Karalith understood that Shira and Torthal weren’t as young as they used to be, but that excuse didn’t hold for Feena, Zabaj, or Karalith’s brother.