Shadow Caste (The Melderblood Chronicles Book 2), page 25
Chenzira set two coins on the bar and the empty glass on top of them. “You know I don’t like that scene, Tenzin.”
Tenzin shot him a look, then leaned forward and dropped his voice. “What can I do you for, Taug?”
“I’m here for a ganda bartha.”
“We’re all out.”
“No, you’re not.”
Tenzin’s features darkened, and the grizzled indifference faded. He pulled the glass toward him, knuckles white on the glass, and when he lifted it, the money was gone. Aviama blinked. She hadn’t seen him take it.
“Let me check the back.”
Aviama leaned closer to Chenzira, his arm still slung around her shoulders. “I thought you said we had an appointment. Why are we drinking in the shadiest place in town?”
“Shhh, not so loud. If you compliment the Boar’s Tooth like that too loud, it’ll be overrun before the words are out of your mouth. I told you, we have an appointment.”
“With the bottom of a pint?”
“Pshhh, never. My order doesn’t come in pints.”
Aviama frowned and reached for her rings to fiddle with one. She’d hardly noticed she was doing it when Chenzira placed a hand over hers and shook his head. Biscuits. It was bad enough walking into a place like this with metal bands on her fingers. But advertising she was wearing costly gems? Aviama wondered if there was a line the people wouldn’t cross to get their take.
Her heart raced, and she pulled away, suddenly self-conscious. Chenzira pulled his arm back but stayed close, pressing his arm against hers from shoulder to elbow. The warmth of his nearness steadied her. She took a deep breath.
Tenzin reappeared, his face a shade lighter than she’d remembered, snatched up a sparkling-clean glass from the shelf behind him and wiped it clean—or would have, if it’d had a particle of dust on it. The man jerked his chin toward the booths at the back. “Third booth from the stairs. Don’t get comfortable.”
Chenzira slapped the bar with an open hand and grinned. “It’s your sunny disposition that brings your regulars back, Tenzin. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”
He stood and gestured for Aviama to walk first, indicating the curtained booths wrapped along the back wall. No one seemed to care about them anymore. They’d gone back to their conversations. A group of men huddled over dice at the table nearest them, and a group of men and women on the far side clinked their mugs together and shouted something unintelligible before bursting into laughter. A man at the second table looked up from his drink and sneered at Aviama, sending a deck of cards dancing between his hands without removing his gaze from her face.
Aviama swallowed and hurried past, turning her face away. Chenzira shifted her to his right side, shielding her from the sightline of the room, and held open the rich green curtains of the third booth while she slid into the wooden bench within. The booths were small, just enough space for two reasonably sized people on either bench, with a table set between them. Chenzira slipped in beside her and adjusted the curtain closed behind them. He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing up at the empty seatback cushions opposite them, and then through a sliver of space between the curtains before snapping them shut more closely.
Chenzira drummed his fingers on the table again and knocked his knuckles against the wood.
Aviama groaned. “Stop that. You’re making me nervous.”
Chenzira folded his hands. “Keep your hands under the table. Don’t talk. And don’t cut any deals. Let me handle it.”
Aviama rotated the gemstone of the ring she’d been fiddling with to the inside of her palm and folded her hands to mimic his. “What if you make a stupid deal?”
“What if you talk and you don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Are you going to get us killed?”
“That’s our specialty, isn’t it? Trying to get killed?”
Aviama crossed her arms. “I don’t think trying is a fair word to use.”
Chenzira pursed his lips and glanced down at her posture. “Hands.”
“Biscuits.” She stuffed her hands into her lap under the table just as the curtain swept aside and the most unexpected character plopped himself onto the bench opposite them.
He slapped his hands on the table. “Good evening, friends. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Did you hear the cannons? New design. Quieter. Smaller projectiles. But very impressive.”
The man was dressed in a long, black leather jacket with gold embroidery, opening in the front to reveal a black vest with golden buttons and a fine linen shirt. His hair was just long enough to curl at the ends as it swooped over his forehead, but tasteful, and a short, trimmed goatee graced his sharp chin. His eyes were both arresting and concerning at once as he scanned his companions with interest.
He propped his head on his hand and pulled out a glittering sandglass, setting it between them on the table. It was small, easy to fit in a pocket, but looked to be formed of crystal and made with blue sand instead of the dusty yellow-gray color of dunes. It was a unique piece, and probably quite expensive. But why would he pull it out? Just to flaunt his wealth? He looked like a merchant. A good one, apparently. But he stuck out at Boar’s Tooth like a pearl on a pig.
The man reached into his jacket again, pulled out a folding scale, and set it beside the sandglass. “You’ve found yourself a lady friend. Looks like someone with a story. Where’d you come from, missy?”
36
Aviama shifted in her seat, and the stranger flashed her a smile. What did he think of her? How many people clocked her as someone with a story when she walked in—someone memorable, someone standing out? Biscuits.
Chenzira cleared his throat. “I need to double the passenger fee and move up our arrangements.”
“If I had a creature as beautiful on my arm as you do on yours, I’d be tempted to sail away with her too. There’s a rush fee for changing the departure time. When do you need to leave?”
Still the man kept his eyes on Aviama, even while he spoke to Chenzira. Aviama lifted her chin and stared back. What else was she supposed to do? But she remembered Chenzira’s warning and said nothing.
Chenzira, on the other hand, spoke up just fine. “Tonight. I need a ship now.”
The stranger laughed. “And I need a flying monkey with reliable solid-gold-nugget excrement, but here we are.”
Tenzin moved the curtain aside long enough to drop off a round of drinks for the table and pulled it closed again. Chenzira snatched his off the table and took a sip. He made a face, and Aviama left hers on the table.
“It has to be now. And no one can see us board.”
The man across from them arched his eyebrows. “You have a lot of demands. They’ll cost you.”
Chenzira reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out one of the bracelets Aviama had given him when she abandoned her amethyst gown. “Rush fee.”
The man plucked the bracelet from Chenzira’s fingers, dropped it on the scale, and eyed Aviama. “Rough-spun cloth takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? People like us aren’t made for it.”
Aviama squirmed in her seat but said nothing, returning his gaze evenly.
He stuffed the bracelet in his jacket and stuck out his hand toward her with a grin. “Onkar Dhoka at your service, darlin’.”
Not thinking, she reached her hand out to take his. Onkar seized it and flipped it over, revealing the gemstones littering her fingers against her palm. He glanced at Chenzira. “Rookie, eh?”
Aviama grimaced, and her heart sank. Chenzira swatted the man’s hand away, covered Aviama’s hand with his, and slid it back off the table. Wind wisped evenly through her fingers beneath the table, and a relieved thrill ran through her. The magna had finally worn off.
Chenzira leaned forward on the table. “Dhoka is just your name of the week. I can kill him and force you to start up a new one, which is easy enough for you. But what would you do if I killed off your most famous name?”
Onkar pursed his lips and leaned back against the cushion, propping his elbow up on the back of the seat cushion and leaning his head on his hand. “Went hunting, did you?”
“I did.”
“And you think you’ve found the queen of the hive, do you?”
Aviama glanced between them, her stomach churning with every tension-laden word spoken in the small space. Onkar exuded relaxed, casual carelessness with his demeanor, but his sharp eyes told a different story. Aviama might have been a rookie in seedy taverns, but she’d been around enough diplomats to know a man was more than the persona he wore. And whatever she’d failed to learn of that fact in Jannemar, Shiva had taught her in Radha.
Chenzira rapped the table with his knuckles and tilted his head at Onkar. “You’ve never tried to fit in. You’re not Radhan, obviously. But your real name is Frizzletwerf. I can’t imagine I’d keep a name like that either, if I’d been born into it. Especially not one with a less-than-ideal, centuries-old legend attached to it.”
Onkar flashed a beguiling smile and spread his hands, gesturing toward Aviama. “Can you believe this, darling? I said you were the rookie. Forgive me. It’s Taug here who doesn’t know his face from the seat of his pants.” The man sipped at the mug the barkeep had brought him, letting a full minute pass before he set it down on the table again. He licked his lips and glanced up at Aviama. “How do you feel about your protector’s black market dealings, Your Highness? Do you think it fitting a man of his station?”
Her lips parted, and Chenzira stiffened. He knew. He knew precisely who she was, and who Chenzira was too. Or at least had a guess close enough to the truth to set Chenzira on edge.
Onkar waved a hand dismissively. “Young men always want to feel confident. They always want to believe they’re the smartest and most resourceful person in a room. I like you, boy. But you’re inexperienced, and you don’t know what you’re doing. You think you can sniff around for a few rumors, and I’ll bend over backwards to your demands? At least make sure your rumors are on the money before making threats.”
Chenzira flushed red and set a fist on the table. “I don’t think you understand—”
Onkar cut him off. “You ask me for favors. You approach me with a business deal. And then, when you are on the hook and about to die, when you’re asking me to risk my business, my life, and the full weight of the royal house down on my humble endeavors, you insult me with bad information and manipulation tactics. Bold move. Stupid move. Would you like a do-over? Or should I have my boys kill you now?”
Aviama sucked in a breath. Wind pooled between her palms beneath the table, and she clenched her jaw to keep from biting her lip. The wisp of wind along her skin beckoned. She hadn’t seen anyone accompany this Onkar Dhoka, but she took him at his word. A man like him would have henchmen. How else would he dare flaunt his wealth among a den of robbers?
His eyes fell on her. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, missy. You think the roof blowing off this place won’t bring konnolan falling down on you like a hailstorm? What’ll you do then, hmm?”
She froze. How did he know she’d summoned the wind?
Chenzira put a firm hand on her knee as if to stay her hand. A tingle shot up her leg at his touch. He snatched his hand back and focused on Dhoka. “We’ll make it worth your while.”
Someone brushed up against the curtain as they walked by on the other side. Aviama jumped, but Onkar only took another sip from his mug. “I certainly hope so. Does the girl have a voice box outside the House, or is she a pawn everywhere she goes?”
Anger broiled in her chest, and she shot him a glare. “I have a voice box.”
“Excellent. I’m all for equality, so you wouldn’t get a discount for having a disability. But I do like to know who I’m dealing with.”
Aviama lifted her chin. “Sounds like you think you’ve got us all figured out. Not sure what else you need from us.”
He smiled. “Young boy. Young girl. Both with such fire. If you’re going to be stupid, it’s important to have fire. Fire makes you more likely to survive stupidity and mature into more effective scoundrels. I’m proud of you.”
Aviama frowned. How was she supposed to take that? She shook her head. “If you don’t mind, we are in a bit of a hurry.”
“You shouldn’t be. There are soldiers in the tavern right now, looking for you. They know better than to get in the way of my men, though. We have a sort of understanding, so you’re safe if you’re out of sight and with me. But the minute I get up and leave you alone…” He brought his hands together and suddenly burst them apart, mimicking the sound of an explosion with his mouth.
Chenzira glanced at the curtain, then scooted away from it and closer to Aviama, and crossed his arms. “Get to it, Dhoka. What do you want?”
“The rush fee is barely acceptable, but I’ll take it. You still owe a second passenger fee, a maladroit incidentals fee, and a treason fee, which I’ve added to your account as of this evening. Higher risk, higher cost. But I like you, so if you purchase a retainer for support services, I’ll give you a discount on the maladroit incidentals fee, and I’ll even waive the deadly peril fee. On account of the lady.”
Aviama gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
Onkar Dhoka raised his mug in a mock toast and took another gulp. “As the grave.”
She swallowed. “Maladroit fee?”
“Sophomoric. Clumsy. Clueless. You make more messes, you require more cleanup. Simple as that, rookie.” He winked.
Chenzira exchanged glances with Aviama and sighed.
Onkar laid his arm along the back of the seat cushion again and grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, the confidentiality service is included in all price packages. And your chance of getting anyone else willing to roll the dice on you two instead of turning you over is less than zero percent. In short, I am your only hope, and I know you have the money. I also find you interesting, which is to your advantage. I’m tired of the same old thing, and there comes a time in a man’s life when variety is the greatest spice. But if you’d rather die than cough up a few more coins, who am I to stand in your way?”
Chenzira dug in his pouch again and produced the layered amethyst collar necklace Aviama had been wearing that evening. Onkar whistled and reached for it, but Chenzira snatched it back. “Covers extra passenger, rookie fee, and retainer. Because I expect you to slow the departure of the rest of the ships in the harbor after us. Or leak bad information. We need them off our tail.”
Onkar clucked his tongue and wagged a finger. “The retainer service is at my discretion. It’s very good value, if I do say so myself. You pay for my experience, which means my ideas. I help. And I choose how I help.”
Chenzira shook his head. “That’s asinine.”
Onkar shrugged. “If you’d rather die, it’s none of my business.”
Chenzira let out a slow breath and handed over the necklace.
Onkar’s eyes lit up. He held the necklace up to the light, examining the stones, then gave a satisfied nod and stuffed his latest fortune into some hidden pocket or other in his jacket. He rubbed his hands together and let out a contented sigh. “Pleasure doing business with you both. Do us all a favor and don’t move a muscle until my boys escort you out. We’ll get you out of here and down to the wharf quicker than a dog eats its vomit. Hold your peace and don’t be stupid.”
And with that, the rich swindler swept from the booth with all the pomp and flair of a man who’d added a lifetime’s wages to his jacket—without having done a single thing to earn it.
37
Sweat beaded on Aviama’s forehead. She dabbed at it with the edge of the shawl wrapped around her hair and shoulders, but it did nothing to assuage the nauseous feeling in her stomach. Chenzira took a sip from his mug. Aviama hadn’t touched hers. The hum of conversation, sloshing drinks, and shifting chairs filled the tavern. But the curtain did not move again, and the emptiness of the opposite seat mocked them.
Chenzira tapped his thumb on the edge of his mug and pursed his lips, glancing at her fingers. “Stop fidgeting. You’re making me nervous.”
Aviama looked down at her hands, where she was twisting her rings in circles. She stuffed her hands in her lap. “You’re the one tap, tap, tapping away over there. And maybe we should be nervous. What if he leaves us here? What if he skips town with the money? What if he takes the necklace, uses it to prove he knows where we are, and leads the soldiers right to us? Are there even really any soldiers in the tavern right now?”
“If there are, I’m not sure it would be a good idea to talk loudly about how badly we don’t want them to find us.” Chenzira gripped the mug, his knuckles whitening against it, and he leaned forward to peer out through a slit in the curtain.
How well did Aviama know Chenzira? Sure, he didn’t like Radha. She’d saved his life. He’d saved her life. Multiple times, probably. But it was easy to forget he was a runaway prince who’d got mixed up in a foreign kingdom’s radical group. After tonight, she could add to the list that he had at least two aliases, between the one he used with the Shadow and the one the barkeep knew him by, and he knew exactly where to go to find the black market.
Her mouth went dry. Enzo was dead. Murin and Arjun were on their way out of Radha. Chenzira was her only hope of a friend left in the world. Without him, she would undoubtedly be dead. She owed him a certain amount of trust for that. But despite their shared traumatic experiences, she didn’t know him that well.
Could Aviama really trust him not to make stupid decisions? Hadn’t he essentially said he was exactly the type of person to make stupid decisions? Rash. Risky. Involved with slimy people. And now he’d sunk their only shot at getting out of Rajaad alive by banking everything on a gangster with no motivation to honor his commitments.
Aviama watched Chenzira sitting there with muscles tensed in strong arms and peering out through the curtain every few seconds. He ran a hand through his short, trimmed, black beard and took another sip from his mug. Piercing eyes, perfect skin, and a face she could stare at for an hour and still ponder over. Was he as worried about their situation as she was? Did he have a backup plan? How did he wind up leaving Keket for Radha in the first place?
