"By what, the writ of the gods? I'm in funds and that's all that signifies." "Your funds won't help you swim, boy—"
^Enough] said Drakasha. "Until one of you pays for it, this is my ship you're standing on." "You're very far from home, pup, and you cross me at your—"
"You want this ship, you pay full weight of metal for it." Drakasha seethed, her irritation genuine. The Shopbreaker was powerful and useful, but in a contest of sheer force any Brass Sea captain could crush him beneath their heel. Lack of competition led him to presume too much upon the patience of others. "If Lord Callas tenders the best offer, I'll take it from him. Are we through being foolish?" "I'm prepared to buy my ship," said Kosta.
"Now hold it, Captain," said Delmastro on cue. "We know the Ship-breaker can pay. But we've yet to see the lordship's coin."
"Del's right," said Drakasha. "We use letters of credit to wipe our arses down here, Lord Callas. You" d best have something heavy in those bags."
"Of course," said Kosta, snapping his fingers. Jerome stepped forward and dropped one satchel on the deck at Drakasha's feet. It landed with a jangling clink.
"Gwillem," she said, motioning him forward. He crouched over the satchel, unbound its clasps and revealed a pile of gold coins— in actuality, a combination of Zamira's ship's purse and the funds Leocanto and Jerome had brought to sea. Gwillem lifted one, held it up to the sunlight, scratched it and bit it. He nodded. "The real thing, Captain. Tal Verrar solari."
"Seven hundred in that bag," said Kosta, which was the cue for Jerome to throw the second one down on the deck beside it. "Seven hundred more."
Gwillem unclasped the second satchel, allowing the Shopbreaker to see that it, too, was apparently brimming with gold. At least it was for five or six layers of solari above a silk pocket filled with silvers and coppers. The third satchel was as much a sham, but Zamira hoped that Kosta wouldn't have to make his point again.
"And from that," said Leocanto, "I'll give you one thousand to commence."
"The edges of his coins could be shaved," said the Shopbreaker. "This is intolerable, Drakasha. Bring scales from your ship, and I'll have mine fetched up."
"These coins are pristine," said Kosta, gritting his teeth. "Every last one. I know you'll check them, Captain, and I know what my life would be worth if you found any of them debased." "But—"
"Your deep concern for my welfare is noted, Shopbreaker," said Drakasha, "but Lord Callas is entirely correct and I judge him sincere. He offers a thousand. Do you wish to better that?" "Legs are open, old man," said Leocanto. "Can you really get it up?" "One thousand and ten," said the Shipbreaker.
"Eleven hundred] said Kosta. "Gods, I feel like I'm playing cards with my stablehands." "Eleven hundred," wheezed the Shipbreaker, "and fifty." "Twelve hundred." "I have yet even to examine her timbers—"
"Then you should have hauled yourself across the bay faster. Twelve hundred." "Thirteen!"
"That's the spirit," said Kosta. "Pretend you can keep up with me. Fourteen hundred."
"Fifteen," said the Shipbreaker. T warn you, Callas, if you push this price higher there will be consequences."
"Poor old lardbucket, forced to make do with a merely ridiculous profit rather than an obscene one. Sixteen hundred." "Where did you come from, Callas?" "Booked passage on an independent trader." "Which one?"
"None of your gods-damned business. I'm good for sixteen. What are—"
"Eighteen," hissed the Shipbreaker. "Are you running out of purses, you Lashani pretender?"
"Nineteen," said Kosta, injecting a note of concern into his voice for the first time. "Two thousand solari."
Leocanto made a show of conferring briefly with Jerome. He looked down at his feet, muttered, "Fuck you, old man," and gestured for Jerome to collect the satchels from the deck.
"To the Shipbreaker," said Zamira, suppressing a huge smile. "For two thousand."
"Ha!" The Shipbreaker's face became contorted with triumph that looked nearly painful. T could buy ten of you on a whim, whelp. If I ever felt the need to scabbard my cock in something foreign and useless."
"Well, you won," said Leocanto. "Congratulations. I'm ever so chagrined."
"You should be," said the Shipbreaker, "since you're suddenly standing on my ship. Now I'd like to hear what you'll bid to keep me from having you spitted over a fire—"
"Shipbreaker," said Drakasha, "until I see two thousand solari in my hands, like all hells is this your ship."
"Ah," said the old man. "A technicality." He clapped his hands and his slaves sent the hoist-chair back to the barge, presumably to be loaded with gold.
"Captain Drakasha," said Kosta, "thank you for your indulgence, but I know when it's time to withdraw—"
"Del," said Drakasha, "show Lord Callas and his man to one of our boats. Lord Callas, you're welcome to stay for dinner in my cabin. After that we can… send you back where you belong."
"Indebted to you, Captain." Kosta bowed more deeply than strictly necessary, and then vanished through the entry port with Delmastro and Jerome.
"Gut the wet-eared little prick," said the Shipbreaker, loudly. "Keep his money."
"I'm content with yours," said Zamira. "Besides — I'm rather taken with the idea of having a genuine Lashani baron convinced that he owes me his life."
The Shipbreaker's slaves transferred bag after bag of coins to the deck of the Messenger, silver and gold, until the agreed-upon price was heaped at Zamira's feet. Gwillem would count it all at leisure, of course, but Zamira felt no anxiety about fraud or debasing. The sacks would contain exactly what they were supposed to, by the logic "Tavrin Callas" had espoused a few minutes earlier. The Shipbreaker kept a dozen well-equipped mercenaries at his fortified estate on the edge of town, but if he cheated a captain he'd have pirates after him in platoons, and his running days were a distant memory.
Drakasha left the Messenger in the hands of the Shipbreaker's guards and slaves and was back aboard the Orchid within half an hour, feeling the contentment that always came with seeing a prize sold off. One less complication to plan around — now her entire crew would be back on one hull, shares would be made, the ship's purse substantially enriched. The injured ex-Messengers who hadn't been with them for the Kingfisher sacking presented a slight problem, but to a man thed'r opted for the temporary indignity of the scrub watch, if the alternative was to be left in Prodigal in ill health.
"Ravelle, Valora," she said, finding the pair of them sitting in the undercastle shade, talking and grinning along with Del and a dozen crewfolk. "That went better than I expected."
"Seven or eight hundred more than what we might have had otherwise," said Gwillem with surprise. "That much more fat to marble everyone's cut," said Valora.
"Until the bastard spends some money to check up on the independent traders," said Del, one eyebrow raised in mingled admiration and disbelief. "When he discovers that nobody's brought any Lashani noble anywhere near Prodigal recently—"
"Of course he'll figure out what happened, sooner or later." Kosta waved a hand dismissively. "That's the beauty of it. That sort of uptight, self-loving, threat-making little tyrant… well, you can play "em like a piece of music. Never in a thousand years would he run around letting anyone else know that you suckered him in broad daylight with such a simple trick. And with the profit margin he scrapes out of every ship he takes from you, there's just no way in hell he'll hit back with anything but fussy words."