Tamora Pierce - Street Magic

The lady dug in the pouch until she could tease something out. She held it up on a hennaed fingertip: the nose ring was silver wire, the pendant garnet. “For your new members.” She thrust it into the pouch and fished out a second nose ring. “For the original Vipers.” It looked nearly the same as Ikrum’s. The metal was a little more yellow. “You have proved your characters to be gold,” the lady said with a smile.

She offered the gold ring with its garnet to Ikrum. He accepted it, but knew better than to change rings in her presence. Yoru had gotten three lashes from the armsmaster for blowing his nose in front of the lady.

“To further show generosity, I will send my healer to tend those new Vipers who are hurt,” the lady said. “They will see there are advantages to their new allegiance.”

Ikrum cleared his throat. “Actually, um, Lady, they’re seen to. The eknub pahan, the one we talked to at Golden House—he brought medicine and cared for the ones that are hurt. Seems the Camel—” Her dark eyes flashed, and Ikrum backed up. “The new Vipers, they know him. He lives beside the eknub Earth temple, down the street in their territory.”

“Now your territory,” she reminded him.

Ikrum, who wasn’t sure how to protect one territory near Golden House and one east of the Karang Gate, only said, “Yes, Lady.”

“Well!” she said after a moment’s thought. “If they chose to summon an eknub apothecary to muddle their wounded about, they don’t deserve my healer.” In a lesser woman her tone would have sounded peeved. “What of the girl, the one who gave three of you that unpleasant surprise yesterday? Have your Vipers found her again?”

Ikrum actually backed up an inch before he made himself stop. “She was with him,” he said. “With the eknub pahan, helping him. She warmed stones to put in the beds of those that were hurt, and she did this. They left it behind.” He fished a small, egg-shaped stone from his sash and offered it to her. Its cool white light silvered his brown palm and the lady’s features as she leaned forward to give it a closer look.

“Well, well.” She touched the stone lamp with a fingernail, then picked it up. “For one who had no magic two days ago, she learns quickly.”

“The Ca—the new Vipers said she wants him to teach her,” Ikrum explained. “And she said she wouldn’t learn from Pahan Stoneslicer up to the amir’s palace.”

“Two days ago she fled him. Now she helps him to dab potions on our former enemies, and does magic for him, and argues familiarly with him.” The lady hummed tonelessly to herself, as she often did when she thought. At last she regarded Ikrum once more. “Very well. Watch her carefully, but watch only for now.” She drummed her fingers on her couch. “Since our numbers have grown, I would like to make plans for the Gate Lords. Our new members may prove their loyalty in battle.”

“Lady, taking on the Gate Lords would be—” He started to say “foolish,” and remembered who he spoke to just in time. “We can’t trust the Camel—”

“The new Vipers,” the lady interrupted. “I did not say to take the Gate Lords on immediately. I will hear your plan for it, however, in three days’ time. You may go, Ikrum. Don’t forget the badges for our Vipers.”

Ikrum tucked the pouch full of nose rings into his sash. He was taking a chance, he knew, but he had to ask. “Lady—Sajiv never returned to the den last night.”

She rolled the light-stone around the hollow of her palm. “The world is full of lesser people, Ikrum. By their errors and follies they drag the better ones, the true-hearted ones, down. When you find someone who is small in that way, it is needful to set him aside, before his taint of failure spreads. I do not like failure, Ikrum.” She raised her dark eyes from the stone until they caught and held his.

He bowed low, his mouth paper-dry. She had as good as told him Sajiv was dead. “Yes, Lady.”

“Here.” She offered him a large silver coin. “Your Vipers reduced those others to negotiation for their lives in a day’s time. They have earned a feast.”

Ikrum took the coin, and kissed the ugly tiles next to her foot in thanks. Deciding he had used up his luck for the day, he left swiftly and quietly.

After leaving the Camelgut den, Briar wondered what to do next. It was nearly midday. They were filthy, smeared with dirt, blood, and less pleasant things. If they presented themselves at the palace—if Briar could even talk Evvy out of her refusal to go there, which he now doubted—the guards would laugh them off Fortress Rock.

“We need the hammam.” he told Evvy. “More clothes for you, since we don’t have decent clean things for you to put on while those are washed—”

He was talking to the air. Evvy had come to a full stop some yards back. She glared at him, thin arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“Now what?” cried Briar in desperation. “Can’t we get through so much as a whole hour without an argument from you?”

“I’m not stealing for you and I’m not laying on my back for you, so don’t think for a moment because you’re spending money on me—”

“I like them prettier, fatter, and older,” snapped Briar. He was privately ashamed that he hadn’t guessed she might think this. In her world, his old world, nobody gave anything for free. “And I used to be a better thief than you, too. Jebilu will pay me back.”

“I told you, I’m not—”

“Going to the palace,” Briar said, overriding her. “I didn’t forget. We’ll try to find a place where he’ll come to meet you. Then arrange whatever you like with him. All right? Are you happy? Can we finish this and get baths?”

Evvy glared at him, but she caught up and stayed in step with him all the way to the nearby souk. Luckily he’d brought extra cash in case he had to bribe the amir’s guards. When Evvy couldn’t decide between an orange tunic and a lavender one, Briar took both—they were secondhand, after all, and cheap. She ought to have more than one set of good clothes. They also found a black pair of loose trousers and a brown skirt that would fit her. Briar paid for everything, then held the clean and dirty clothes while Evvy slipped behind a curtain to change.

“She ought to have another headcloth or two,” the woman who sold the clothes said idly, as if she didn’t care if she earned a few davs more. “And a petticoat. She doesn’t have loincloths, either. I couldn’t help but notice.”

Briar looked at her, his mouth curled wryly. “And you just happen to have them.”

“Special price,” the woman assured him. “Since you’re getting several items.”

She did finally sell the extra clothes for a lower price than she’d first asked. That was because Briar had learned to dicker from Tris, who knew how to turn a bargain. Even Daja, who was born a Trader, let Tris handle the money when they shopped.

Homesickness. Back in the spring, when Rosethorn had suggested a trip east, with new plants and new uses for them, he had jumped at it. Living in a cottage with three girls and two women, closer to the girls than even a normal boy because they were all in each other’s minds, he couldn’t wait to get away. The idea of months without Sandry drafting him as a dressmaker’s dummy, or Daja going on at table over a new way to work metal, or Tris’s swings between lost-in-a-book oblivion and maturing-crosspatch, brought him out of Winding Circle in a flash. He hadn’t even minded saying goodbye to Lark. Sometimes Lark was a little too understanding, not to mention indecently aware of the thoughts that went through a growing boy’s mind when a pretty novice smiled at him. Rosethorn was uninterested in Briar’s changing view of girls who were not his housemates, and her own temper made it impossible for her to be too understanding, ever.