“I need a few of them around me. If nothing else, it gives me someone to bite.”
“Stick to mice,” he advised. “They taste better, and at least they can be swallowed.’ *
‘ ‘If I can persuade Sadi to return, it may just solve both our problems,” she hissed dryly. “I’ll have someone to run the palace without bothering me, and you’ll get your little playmate back.”
“Interesting notion, Salmissra.” He looked around. “Is that human you sent out to fetch my mouse raising it from infancy?” be asked.
100
SEERESS OF KELL
Yarblek and Vella slipped into Yar Nadrak late one snowy evening just before the gates were closed for the night. Vella had left her lavender satin gowns at Boktor and had reverted to her traditional tight leather garb. Because it was winter, she wore in addition a sable coat that would have cost a fortune in Tbl Honeth. “Why does this place always smell so bad?1’ she asked her owner as they rode through snow-clogged streets toward the riverfront.
“Probably because Drosta let the contract for the sewer system out to one of his cousins.” Yarblek shrugged, pulling the collar of his shabby felt coat up around his neck. “The citizens paid a great deal in taxes for the system, but Drosta’s cousin turned out to be a better embezzler than he was an engineer. I think it runs in the family. Drosta even embezzles from his own treasury.”
“Isn’t that sort of absurd?” “We have an absurd sort of king, Vella.” ” I thought the palace was over that way.” She pointed toward the center of town.
“Drosta won’t be in the palace at this time of night,” Yarblek told her. “He gets lonesome when the sun goes down, and he usually goes out looking for companionship.” “He could be anywhere, then.”
“I doubt it. There are only a few places in Yar Nadrak where he’s welcome after dark. Our king isn’t widely loved.” Yarblek pointed up a littered alley. “Let’s go this way. We’ll stop by the office of our factor and get you some suitable clothing.” “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” “Sable attracts attention in the part of town we’re going to visit, Vella, and we’re trying to be inconspicuous.”
The office in Yar Nadrak of Silk and Yarblek’s far-flung commercial empire was in a loft over a cavernous warehouse filled with bales of furs and deep-piled Mallorean carpets. The factor was a squinty-eyed Nadrak named Zelmit, who was probably almost as untrustworthy as he looked. Vella had never really liked him and she customarily loosened her daggers in their sheaths whenever she came into his presence, making very sure that he saw her doing so to be certain that there would be no misunderstandings. Technically, of course, Vella was one of Yarblek’s possessions, and Zehnit had a reputation for making rather free with things that belonged to his employer.
“How’s business?” Yarblek asked as he and Vella entered the cluttered little office.
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“We’re getting by,” Zelmit said in a rasping voice.
“Specifics, Zelmit,” Yarblek said brusquely. “Generalities make my teeth itch.”
“We’ve found a way to bypass Boktor and evade Drasnian customs.”
“That’s useful.”
“It takes a bit longer, but we can get our furs to Tol Honeth without paying Drasnian duties. Our profits in the fur market are up by sixty percent.”
Yarblek beamed. “If Silk ever comes back through here, I don’t think you really need to tell him about it,” he cautioned. “Sometimes he breaks out in a rash of patriotism, and Porenn is his aunt, after all.”
“I wasn’t really thinking of telling him. We still have to carry the Mallorean carpets through Drasnia, though. The best market for those is still the great fair in central Arendia, and we can’t pay anybody enough to get him to freight them across Ulgo-land.” He frowned. “Someone’s cutting the prices on us, though. Until we can find out what’s going on, it might not be a bad idea to curtail our imports.”
“Did you manage to sell off those gemstones I brought back from Mallorea?”
“Naturally. We smuggled them out and sold them here and there on our way south.”
“Good. It always depresses the market when you show up in one place with a bushel basket full of them. Do you know if Drosta’s in the usual place tonight?”
Zelmit nodded. ‘ ‘He went there just before sundown.”
” Vella’s going to need a sort of nondescript cloak,” Yarblek said then.
Zelmit squinted at the girl.
Vella opened her fur coat and put her hands on the hilts of her daggers. “Why don’t you go ahead and try it now, Zelmit?” she said. “Let’s get it over with.”
“I wasn’t really planning anything, Vella,” he said innocently. “I was just sizing you up, that’s all.”
“I noticed,” she said dryly. “Did that cut on your shoulder ever heal?”
“It aches a little in damp weather,” he complained.
“You should have kept your hands to yourself.”
“I think I Ve got an old cloak that’ll fit you. It’s a little shabby, though.”
102
SEERESS OF KELL
“So much the better,” Yarblek said. “We’re going to the One-Eyed Dog and we’d like to sort of blend in.”
Vella removed her sable and laid it across a chair. “Don’t lose track of this, Zelmit,” she warned. “I’m fond of it, and I’m sure we’d both hate what would happen if it accidentally wound up on a caravan bound for Tol Honeth.”
“You don’t have to threaten him, Vella,” Yarblek said mildly,
“That wasn’t a threat, Yarblek,” she retorted. “I just wanted to be sure that Zelmit and I understood each other.”
“I’ll get that cloak,” Zelmit offered.
“Do that,” she said.
The cloak was not so much shabby as it was tattered, and it smelled as if it had never been washed. Vella pulled it on over her shoulders with some reluctance.
“Put the hood up,” Yarblek told her.
“I’ll have to wash my hair if I do,”
“So?”
“Do you know how long it takes hair like mine to dry in the
wintertime?”
“Just do it, Vella. Why do you always argue with me?” “It’s a matter of principle.”
He sighed mournfully. “Take care of our horses,” he told Zelmit. “We’ll walkthe rest ofthe way.” And then he led Vella out of the office. When they reached the street, he took a length of clinking chain with a leather collar on one end out of a side pocket of his overcoat. “Put this on,” he told her.
“I haven’t worn a chain or collar in years,” she said.
“It’s for your own protection, Vella,” he said wearily. “We’re going into a very rough part of town, and the One-Eyed Dog is the roughest place down there. If you’re chained, nobody will bother you—unless he wants to fight with me. If you’re loose, some ofthe men in the tavern might misunderstand.”
“That’s what my daggers are for, Yarblek.”
“Please, Vella. Oddly enough, I sort of like you, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“Affection, Yarblek?” She laughed. “I thought the only thing you really liked was money.”
“I’m not a complete scoundrel, Vella.”
“You’ll do until the real thing comes along,” she said, fastening the collar around her neck. “As a matter of fact, I sort of like you, too.”
His eyes widened, and he grinned.
“Not that much, though,” she added.
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The One-Eyed Dog was perhaps the foulest tavern Vella had ever entered and Vella had been in a large number of low dives and shabby taverns in her life. Since the age of twelve, she had always relied on her daggers to ward off unwanted attentions. Although she had seldom been obliged to kill anyone—except for a few enthusiasts—she had nonetheless established a reputation for being a girl no sensible man would attempt. Sometimes that rankled a bit, though, since there were tunes when Vella might have welcomed an attempt. A nick or two in some unimportant places upon an ardent admirer would sustain her honor, and then-—well, who knows?
“Don’t drink any of the beer here,” Yarblek cautioned as they entered. “The vat is open, and there are usually a few drowned rats floating around in it.” He wrapped her chain around his hand.
Vella looked around. “This is really a revolting place, Yarblek,” she told him.
“YouVe been spending too much time with Porenn,” he said. “You’re starting to get delicate.”
“How would you like to have me gut you?” she offered.
“That’s my girl.” He grinned. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“What’s up there?”
“The girls. Drosta doesn’t come here for rat-flavored beer.”
“That’s disgusting, you know?”
“You’ve never met Drosta, have you? Disgusting only begins to describe him. He even turns my stomach.”
“Are you planning to just walk in on him? Aren’t you going to snoop around a bit first?”
” You’ve been in Drasnia too long,” he replied as they started up the steps. “Drosta and I know each other. He knows better than to try to He to me. I’ll get to the bottom of this right away, and then we can get out of this stinking town.”