David Eddings - The Redemption of Althalus

‘Trust me, Dhakan,’ Althalus said confidently. ‘When it comes to buying and selling, I’m the very best.’ Then he sent his thought out to Emmy. ‘Have you got her yet, Em?’ he asked.

‘I’m getting closer.’

‘See if you can stir some interest in the salt mines.’

‘What for?’

‘So I can tell her some horror stories.’

‘You’re going to lie to her, I take it?’

‘No, I’m going to tell her the truth. Unless things have changed, the salt mines of Ansu are worse than the deepest pits in Nekweros. Dhakan thinks that might turn the trick here. Nudge her hard, Em. If she doesn’t sell Eliar to us, Dhakan’s going to have him killed.’

When Althalus and Dhakan entered the throne room, they saw that Andine had laid the laurel-leaf dagger aside and that she was concentrating all her attention on Emmy. She was smiling, and her smile was almost like the sun coming up. Even when she’d been scowling at Eliar, she’d been beautiful, but when she smiled, her beauty made Althalus go weak in the knees.

Dhakan went up to the dais and spoke quietly with his young ruler at some length.

Andine shook her head vehemently several times. Then Dhakan beckoned to Althalus.

Althalus approached the throne. ‘Yes, my Lord?’ he asked Dhakan.

‘I think we should get down to cases here, Master Althalus,’ Dhakan declared. ‘What’s your offer?’

‘Nine Perquaine wheats apiece for the ones you’ve got down in the dungeon,’ Althalus replied.

‘You said ten!’ Andine’s voice suddenly soared. Sergeant Khalor’s description of that voice appeared to have been a slight understatement.

Althalus held up one finger. ‘The price is subject to amendment, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘If you’re willing to include Eliar, I’ll slide it up. I’ll pay you eighty-one gold wheats for the nine in the dungeon. If you’re willing to add Eliar, I’ll pay you a hundred for the lot.’

‘That’s a difference of nineteen pieces of gold. He isn’t worth that much!’ Her voice rose again.

‘He’s prime stock. Your Highness. When I reach Ansu, I’ll put him out front for the mine-owners to look at. They’ll buy the lot just to get him. I know good merchandise when I see it. I could sell cripples if I could wave Eliar in the buyer’s face.’

‘What’s it like down there in those salt mines?’ she asked. ‘How would you describe them?’

Althalus feigned a shudder. ‘I’d really rather not, Your Highness,’ he replied. ‘Over to the east, in Wekti, Plakand and Equero, criminals beg to be executed when they’re sentenced to be sold into the salt mines as a punishment for murder and the like. Being sent into those mines is far worse than a death sentence. If a slave’s unlucky, he’ll last for ten years down there. The lucky ones die in just a few months.’

‘Why don’t we talk about that?’ Andine almost purred.

Althalus described conditions in the salt mines at some length, exaggerating only slightly. He mentioned the prevalence of blindness, the frequent cave-ins – during which lucky slaves were crushed to death. He covered the darkness, the perpetual chill, the continuous choking dust, and dwelt at some length on the burly men with whips. ‘All in all,’ he concluded, ‘murderers and the like are very wise to prefer hanging to the mines.’

‘Then you’d say that being sent to the salt mines is a fate worse than death?’ Andine said, her lovely eyes all aglow.

‘Oh, yes,’ Althalus assured her, ‘much, much worse.’

‘I do believe we can strike a bargain here, Master Althalus,’ she decided. ‘A hundred gold wheats for the lot, you say?’

‘That was my offer, Your Highness.’

‘Done, then – if you’ll throw in your cat.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I want this lovely little cat. If you let me have her, we’ve struck a bargain.’

‘Do as she says, Althalus’, Emmy’s thought cut through his startled dismay.

‘I most certainly will not !’ he shot back.

‘You don’t really think she can keep me here, do you? Make her throw in the Knife, though.’

‘How am I going to manage that?’

‘I don’t care. Think something up. That’s what I’m paying you for, remember? Oh, one other thing. When you get the Knife from her, just tuck it under your belt and don’t look at it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Can’t you ever do as you’re told without asking all these questions? I don’t want you to look at the Knife until after we’re out of here. Just do it and don’t argue.’

He gave up. ‘Yes, dear,’ he said silently.

‘What’s the problem, Master Althalus?’ Andine asked, gently stroking the purring cat in her lap.

‘You took me by surprise, Your Highness,’ he replied. ‘I’m really very fond of my cat.’ He scratched his chin. ‘This puts the whole transaction on a different footing. The slaves are just merchandise; including Emmy changes things. I think I’ll need something in addition to the slaves before I’d be willing to part with her.’

‘Such as?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He pretended to think about it. ‘It really ought to be some personal possession of yours. I’m much too fond of my cat to include her in some crass commercial transaction. I’d have trouble living with myself if I just sold her outright.’

‘You’re a strange man, Master Althalus.’ Arya Andine looked at him with her luminous eyes. ‘What sort of possession of mine would satisfy your delicate sensibilities?’

‘It doesn’t have to be anything of great value, Your Highness. I didn’t pay anything for Emmy. I just picked her up along the side of the road a few years ago. She’s very good at worming her way into someone’s affections.’

‘Yes, I noticed that.’ Andine impulsively lifted Emmy up to hold her against her own face, ‘I just love this cat,’ she said in that throbbing voice of hers. ‘Choose, Master Althalus. Name your price.’

Althalus laughed. ‘You really shouldn’t say things like that, Your Highness,’ he advised her. ‘If I weren’t an honest businessman, I could take advantage of your sudden attachment to my cat.’

‘Name your price. I must have her.’

‘Oh, I don’t know – anything, I suppose. How about that Knife you’ve been toying with? You seem to have a certain attachment to it. That’s all that matters, really.’

‘Choose something else.’ Andine’s eyes grew troubled.

‘Ah – no, Your Highness, I don’t think so. My cat for your Knife. You won’t value her if you haven’t given up something that you cherish for her.’

‘You bargain very hard, Master Althalus,’ she accused.

Emmy reached out one soft paw and gently stroked the Arya’s alabaster cheek.

‘Oh, dear,’ Andine said, pressing Emmy against her face. ‘Take the Knife, Master Althalus. Take it. I don’t care. Take anything you want. I must have her.’ She seized up the laurel-leaf dagger and tossed it to the marble floor in front of the dais.

‘If it please Your Highness, I’ll see to the details,’ the silvery-haired Dhakan said smoothly. Quite obviously, Dhakan was the one who really ran things here in Osthos.

‘Thank you, Lord Dhakan,’ Andine said, rising to her feet with Emmy cradled possessively in her arms.

‘You be a good cat now, Em,’ Althalus said, bending to pick up the Knife. ‘Remember – no biting.’

‘Does she bite?’ Andine asked.

‘Sometimes,’ Althalus replied, tucking the Knife under his belt. ‘Not very hard, though. Usually it’s when she gets carried away while we’re playing. Snap her on the nose with your fingernail and she’ll quit. Oh, I should probably warn Your Highness: don’t be too surprised if she decides to give your face a bath. Her tongue’s a bit rough, but you get used to it after a while.’