Glasswrights' Apprentice Page 11

  “Such a sigh, ’n’ from one so small! I dinna think ye were gonna get out o’ that un, mate.”

  “Mair.”

  “Aye, Rai. Quick thinkin’ that, givin’ her yer only coin i’ th’ world.”

  “How do you know what coins I’ve got?”

  “Oh, I know, Rai, I know.” For all the snaggled smile Mair spared, Rani’s heart pounded at the thought of Touched hands - Rabe’s jealous, creeping hands - prowling through her belongings while she slept, all unawares.

  “What else was I going to do?” Rani demanded. “I couldn’t go back to the Council to ask their mercy.”

  “Nay,” Mair answered seriously, “Ye took th’ only course ye could. We won’t ’old that against ye.”

  “‘Hold it against’ - Who says you get to judge me at all?” Rani’s misgivings heated her words.

  “The Thousand Gods say, merchant girl, ’n’ dinna fergit it. Each o’ us ’as our place i’ th’ City, ’n’ we Touched aren’t about t’ fergit ours. It’s like th’ Old One said, ‘Mind yer caste.’”

  “How could you know that?” Rani squeaked, recoiling as Mair’s fingers echoed the skeletal Touched fingers on her cheek. “If you were close enough to hear that, why didn’t you help me?”

  “Who says I ’eard anything? I know what I know, Rai, but I’ll ne’er tell one o’ yer sort where I learned it.”

  Mair’s smirk made Rani’s blood boil, and the apprentice stepped up to the trestle, longing to take out her frustration on the Touched girl. Rani glanced around for the loyal troop of children certainly secreted among the nearby stands, but she saw none of Mair’s allies. “You followed me!”

  Mair caught Rani’s fists before she could do something she’d regret. “I promise ye this, Rai. I dinna follow ye.”

  “Rabe, then. You sent him to do your evil work.”

  “Rabe was nowhere near ye; I’ve better things fer my lieutenant t’ trouble ’imself about. Believe me, Rai, I’ve got no cause t’ lie t’ ye. I’ve got no cause t’ fight ye, either, but if ye force me, I’ll beat ye black ’n’ blue.”

  Before Rani could respond, she was distracted by a commotion at the end of the market aisle. Shoppers exploded in a bevy of shrieks, and more than one market basket was dropped in the confusion. Even as Touched children swarmed from the stands to snatch up the spilled goods, Rani made out the trumpets that cleared the way for King Shanoranvilli’s officials to move through the marketplace. She scarcely hesitated before clambering up on Narda’s trestle table for a better view, balancing amid the few remaining eggs.

  Her stomach turned at the sight that met her eyes, and she almost tumbled from her perch. Six men-at-arms forced their way through the crowd, bearing a wooden platform smeared with offal. As the soldiers pushed through the market, a cry went up among the merchants. Over-ripe melons smashed against the men’s burden, but the soldiers bore the abuse stoically. A hastily crafted banner was slung across the litter, but Rani could not make out the crude letters.

  “Cor!” Mair exclaimed, and the Touched leader startled beneath Rani’s frozen hand. “Well, Rai, ye’ll not be searchin’ fer yer Instructor friend again!”

  Rani forced her eyes to the litter, even as a wilted lettuce smashed into the guards’ burden. Instructor Morada gazed out at the marketplace, agate rage already grown cloudy beneath a bloodied stripe of stark white hair. A brutal pike secured the disembodied head to the foul litter as Shanoranvilli’s guard exhibited their evidence of the King’s Justice. The soldiers passed in front of the egg-stand, and Rani could at last make out the words on the befouled banner: DEATH TO ALL TRAITORS.

  Chapter 6

  “And do you have any further words to speak in your defense before we pass our judgment?”

  Rani forced herself to take a calming breath, to remember all the phrases she had rehearsed so carefully during her fortnight in the marketplace. “I’ve tried my best, Your Grace, even when things were not easy or fair.” Unbidden, Morada’s bloody face floated before her eyes, and she had to blink hard to drive away the vision of crimson-stained pepper-and-salt hair. Perhaps Rani had not actually tried her best; perhaps if she had put more effort into her work, she could have questioned Morada before the Instructor’s death. Possibly, she could have learned more of the strange Brotherhood that the glasswright and the nobleman had discussed just before Morada was captured.

  “And do you submit to our judgment, without reservation or contradiction?”

  “I do, Your Grace.” Belatedly, Rani thought to kneel, easing herself onto the ragged brick floor, ignoring the pinching pain against her knees.

  “Then by the power granted me by King Shanoranvilli, I pronounce your sentence served. You are free to walk among the people, with no stain of your former wrongdoing upon your brow.” Borin leaned back in his throne-like chair, and Rani struggled not to sigh with relief.

  Borin’s acceptance of her service was a mixed blessing. Of course, she was free again, to come and go as she desired. Nevertheless, she had nowhere in particular to go, nowhere that was certain to be safe, sheltered from prying eyes. With an uneasy sense of foreboding, Rani wondered if she might not have spent her four-sided coin more profitably than in securing Narda’s acquiescence.

  “Stand, Rani.” The Chief Councilor probably meant the command to be an honor, but Rani’s unsettled mood made the order seem more like a threat. “It is rare that the Council finds a merchant with the care and respect you show for its rules. Your family should be proud of you.” Rani swallowed uneasily. It would not do for Borin to ask questions about her family. She realized that the Chief Councilor was waiting for some response, though, and she managed a brief curtsey. “I hope they are, Your Grace. I certainly hope they are.”

  Before Borin could reply, there was a commotion at the edge of the room. Rani turned to find Borin’s Council colleagues stepping aside, shuffling in vaguely-disguised dissatisfaction to allow a newcomer to enter the room. Only when the person stepped into the dim light did Rani realize that it was Mair.

  Rani almost cried out her Touched friend’s name, but she had no chance before Borin registered his visitor. The Chief Councilor crossed the small room with the speed of a striking snake. Rani could see his fingers dig into the meat of Mair’s arm, and he hissed “What are you doing here?”

  Mair stood her ground. “My troops’ve learned a few tidbits, Yer Grace. Ye’ll want t’ know my secrets, I can assure ye. Ye’ll want t’ know them now.” Her tone was urgent, and Borin glanced back at Rani, the dim light reflecting off his bald pate.

  “Very well,” the merchant scowled, and dragged the Touched girl outside the room.

  Rani caught her breath, hoping to overhear some whisper of their conversation, but she could make out nothing. She sighed, thinking of Mair’s bravery. Rani would never have dared to make demands of Borin in his own chamber, especially when the Chief Councilor was so clearly busy. These Touched folk.… They refused to live by the rules of the other castes.

  Rani’s speculation was cut off as Borin returned to the chamber. The man ran a hand over his skull and shot a glance at his fellow councilors who were waiting placidly.

  “Rani, there is one more service you can provide, and it would further your reputation among all the merchants of this City.” Borin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a difficult task. “This is an honor we would normally assign to one of our own, but we cannot overlook your loyal actions and your faithful words since joining our ranks.” Borin signaled to one of his minions. “Katrin, your roll of record.”

  The summoned councilor looked up in surprise. “Borin,” she protested, “we do not owe our tithes until tomorrow, until Hern’s feast day.”

  “Do you think I’ve forgotten the calendar?”

  “Of course not, but -” The woman shifted uneasily beneath Borin’s incisive gaze. Other councilors fidgeted, and Rani caught a muttered oath directed at Hern, god of merchants.

  “But?” Bor
in pushed, and there was a sharpness to his voice that Rani had not heard before. “Are you challenging my leadership?”

  “Of course not, Borin,” Katrin protested. “But what am I to think? A Touched brat comes in, interrupting the Council’s business, and the next thing I know, you’re ready to confer our highest honor on this little criminal!”

  Before Rani could bristle, Borin exclaimed, “No! That’s where you’re wrong, Katrin. Rani Trader is no longer a criminal. She has served her sentence well and honorably. All taint of her past is removed by that service.”

  “Still, Borin - ”

  “Any further challenge, Katrin, you must take before the full Council. Are you willing to do that?”

  For a long minute, Katrin stared at her leader. It occurred to Rani that perhaps Katrin had thought to claim the mysterious honor for herself. Before the first blossom of pity could open in Rani’s chest, Katrin collapsed in a stiff, angry bow. “No, Borin. I’ll follow your will.”

  “Very good.” The bald man held out his palm, ignoring the sting as Katrin slapped a roll of parchment across his fingers. “Rani Trader. It is this Council’s custom to offer tithes to the priesthood on our feast day - a sampling of all our wares to see our brother priests through the coming year. Tonight our offerings must be conveyed to the cathedral close, to the end of the Pilgrim trail. Will you serve as our ambassador to the priests, bearing all the merchants’ gifts, good wishes, and prayers for the coming year?”

  Rani stared at the man, slack-jawed. The honor he mentioned was legendary - one that she and Varna had play-acted as children. Bardo had served as the Council’s messenger one year, carrying the market’s riches through the streets, amid much pomp and circumstance. Rani still remembered his boastful pride, especially that he had been chosen over merchants who sold their goods in the marketplace. That the Council would proffer this office to a child - to a rebel who had merited punishment for violating all her caste’s rules.… Had Mair said something to Borin to bring about this honor? Rani sank back to her knees in honest humility, forgetting to put on the airs of her assumed identity and her false story. “Your Grace, you honor me too greatly.”

  “Nonsense, Rani. I honor you with your due. You have borne your punishment - even your chaining at the stall - with a grace clear to everyone. When you have your own stall in the marketplace, it will be a model for your fellow merchants. The tithing embassy is yours, if you wish it.”

  “I am honored, Your Grace. I will gladly go to the priesthood.”

  Borin might have breathed a sigh of relief. He certainly spoke faster: “Mind your caste, then, Rani, and go forth as our ambassador, bringing honor upon all our people.” Rani’s eyes shot up as she heard the words that had been muttered by the huddled Touched creature in the alleyway, but Borin seemed unaware that he had said anything unusual. Instead, he gestured imperiously, and Katrin rustled forward, bearing a small wooden cask.

  Rani had imagined a cart piled high with goods, a dray swaying beneath the combined weight of all the offerings. She almost yelped as she recognized her mistake, giving up the enticing image of riding into the cathedral close, balanced atop a mound of cloth-of-gold. Her disappointment must have shown in her earnest features.

  “Not what you anticipated?” Borin’s smile was tight.

  “Oh no, Your Grace,” she began, shaking her head. “It’s just that.…”

  “We’ve reached an agreement with the priesthood. They have no storehouses for our wealth, and they don’t want aged goods. Beginning this year, we send them promises - inscribed on golden paper and settled in this box.” Borin opened the wooden casket, and Rani caught a whiff of cedar as a delicate slip of gilded paper curled over the side. “Throughout the coming twelve-month, they need only present these receipts to the Council, and we will provide them with the finest goods at our command.”

  Rani nodded, measuring the advantage to the Council: the merchants could continue to claim ownership over their goods if any delicate negotiations arose with moneylenders. A flush of interest spread across her cheeks. She had never dreamed that life as a merchant could be so full of intrigue and dealing. There was no need to escape to a guild to arrange things and craft structures of beauty. She could do that right here in the Merchants’ Council.

  Borin, though, misread the flush on her face. “You are shamed by your mission, now that you know you will not bear your caste’s visible wealth?”

  “No, Your Grace!” Rani stumbled over her words in her effort to gainsay the Chief Councilor. “I was merely struck by the beauty of your system.”

  Borin swallowed a sour smile, as if he did not believe a word she spoke. “A beautiful system, well, yes. Enough of these flattering words. If you leave now, you’ll still reach the Pilgrims’ Compound before dusk.”

  Rani accepted the wooden box with a stiff bow. Borin made as if to follow Rani to the market’s edge, but when they reached the eaves of the covered portico, a phalanx of armed soldiers appeared. Rani darted a quick glance toward Borin, but he seemed unsurprised by the soldiers’ presence, as if he’d had advance notice of their invasion.

  “Borin, Chief Councilor of the merchants?”

  “Aye.” Rani could barely make out the single syllable above her pounding heart. She considered dropping the box of receipts and fleeing the market in a whirlwind, as she had arrived.

  “We have reason to believe that the merchants in this marketplace are harboring a vicious criminal, the murderer of Prince Tuvashanoran.”

  Borin looked concerned, and he settled a protective hand on Rani’s shoulder. “Surely that was the traitor whose head you carted about the market this very day?”

  “That was only one of the criminals. She spoke before she died, and now we search for the executed woman’s apprentice.”

  Borin grimaced, apparently unaware that Rani had begun to shudder beneath his hand. “In the marketplace? I can’t say I follow your logic. But these words are certainly not necessary for a child to hear. Go along, Rani Trader. Go about your business.”

  The councilor stressed her last name, as if he were telling the soldiers that she could not possibly be the murdering guildsman that they sought. The captain of the guard merely scowled in annoyance, letting Rani pass. “I warn you, Councilor, this is a serious matter.”

  “Yes,” Borin agreed. “Of course. Come into my chamber and tell me all that you suspect.”

  Rani did not wait to hear the guard’s response. It was all she could do to make her legs move forward, to keep her fingers clasped around the sharp corners of the casket that held the tithing slips. She had enough presence of mind to raise the wooden cask to her chest, using the smooth wood to cover any rip in her garments that might be noticed by enemy eyes. She had not needed to worry about her missing guild-badge for all the nights that she slept alone, chained in the marketplace, but now that she was returning to the streets.…

  The box was not heavy, but it was awkward in her arms. As soon as she was out of the soldiers’ sight, Rani shifted the casket to her shoulder. Keeping her eyes on the cobbled streets, she tried not to think about the soldiers in the marketplace behind her, about where she would rest her head that night. As she walked, the casket grew heavier, and she sighed deeply as she shifted the wooden box to her other shoulder.

  “Gettin’ tired, are ye, Rai?”

  “Mair.” Rani jerked back to the present, startled to see the Touched girl in the street, as if she had just come from the cathedral close. Rani kept walking, and Mair obligingly turned about to keep her company.

  “Ye might turn a smile toward th’ one friend ye got i’ all th’ world.”

  “Friend!” Rani scoffed.

  “Aye. Who else would come t’ Borin ’n’ warn ’im that th’ soldiers were comin’ fer ye?”

  “Warn him?”

  “Aye. I woulna want t’ see ye missin’ yer ’ead, like that Instructor o’ yers. I was watchin’ out for ye, see? No need t’ fear me.”

  “I’m not af
raid of you.” Rani shifted the casket on her shoulder and jumped when Mair reached out a hand to steady it. Rani reached for her Zarithian blade, all too aware that she carried the wealth of dozens of merchants.

  “Easy there!” Mair exclaimed. “Afraid we’ll be stealin’ her goods? That rat-pricker wouldna stop us if we ’ad a mind t’ steal yer scrip.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Rani’s chin jutted defiantly.

  “Make sure ye can talk without yer voice quakin’ when ye try that line on a stranger!” Mair’s grin was easy, but her teeth glinted in the fading sunlight.

  “Borin would not have entrusted me with this mission if he didn’t think I could handle the likes of you.”

  “The likes o’ me! Cor, ye do believe anything ye’re told, don’t ye? I’m sorry t’ bear th’ bad news, girl, but Borin chose ye t’ avoid choosin’ among th’ real merchants vyin’ fer th’ ’onor!”

  “I am a real merchant!” Rani retorted hotly, and a full minute passed before her curiosity got the better of her. “Why would he have to choose?”

  “Ye claim t’ be th’ daughter o’ merchants - ye should know well enough yerself. There’re two groups o’ merchants i’ th’ City - those sellin’ i’ th’ market like yer precious Narda, and those sellin’ other places i’ th’ Quarter. Borin dinna want t’ favor one over th’ other; he dinna want t’ choose a messenger as ’is favorite.”

  “But he did! I’m from…” Rani trailed off as she tried to complete the sentence. Was she her father’s daughter, representing the Quarter Merchants? Or was she Narda’s aide, representing the marketplace?

  “Aye, Rai, ye’re from where’er ye claim t’ be.”

  Despite the mocking tone, Mair’s words rang true. The only real explanation for Borin choosing Rani was to ease other Council burdens. The crafty old councilor was outwitting his fellow merchants, beating them to the punch before they realized that the annual fight had even begun. Rani struggled to reweave her proud dignity. “And if I’m so unimportant, then why are you here?”