Calon paused and, without looking at Kesh, touched first the ivory bracelet on his left wrist, and after this the one on his right.
"I call them Moy and Tay, which means in their language 'one' and 'two.' Tay is not yet in her bleeding. The elder girl is also young, a year or two older. They may be sisters. That wasn't clear to me when I obtained them. They have not given me a moment's trouble on the long journey, nor did they ever try to escape."
An elderly woman appeared at the door, leaning on a cane of polished ebony. She wore both bronze slave bracelets and the ivory bracelets reserved for those who were free. "Keshad," she said in her spider's voice, whispery and tough. Her smile was tenuous. She was not, in Kesh's estimation, a cruel woman, but she was not compassionate either. "What have you got here? Southern. Look at those complexions. Very fine."
Calon rang the bell twice. A servant appeared with a trio of silver goblets, each half full of sweet cordial. He offered one to Kesh. The two men turned their backs so Malia could inspect the girls closely. Kesh sipped as cloth rustled and slipped, as each girl spoke a few words and, when Malia sang a phrase, mimicked her. They had voices as sweet and clear as the cordial. Feet and hands and teeth would be examined, and skin and body prodded and stroked.
Malia took her time, most of it in silence. Kesh sipped.
"What news from Master Feden's house?" Calon asked with seeming casualness.
"We just walked in today through Crow's Gate. I came here first."
Calon grinned. "I see. Best not to let Feden's fat fist grab the best of your merchandise. He would only find a way to cheat you, him and the other Greater Houses."
"I never said so."
Calon nodded. "Nor can you, so I'll say it for you. Those who sit at the voting table with a majority of votes held to themselves can play the tune the rest of us must dance to. They see only what is good for themselves, while the land falls into ruin around them. They are made shortsighted by their own greed. Eiya! So be it. Those of us in the Lesser Houses are ready-poised-to make a change, whether the Greater Houses will, or no. As are you. Listen, young man, I expect the day comes quickly when you are able to buy yourself free." With his chin he gestured toward the girls. "If you've a mind to, I would offer you a position as a junior trader in my house, for it seems, alas, that I may have an opening. You've a good head, a clear mind, and a cool heart. Consider it."
Kesh met his gaze, respect for respect. "If I meant to stay in Olossi, I would consider it, Master Calon. You're the only merchant here I respect enough to work for."
"I'll take that as thanks, then. Malia? A fair price."
She circled around once more before standing in silence for a time, calculating. She had never been a beauty; intelligence and ruthlessness had bought her freedom. Kesh smelled the lemon water in which she washed, a bracing and cooling scent even on such a hot day.
"A good investment," she said. "They are young enough to learn. They are healthy. They have clear voices. I think they can be trained as jaryas, if it so happens that they are also intelligent. If not, they can be trained to sing what others compose. Although they're not great beauties they have an unusual coloring that will attract notice. Three hundred leya apiece. Six hundred, altogether."
Kesh pressed teeth into his lower lip, so he wouldn't yelp with triumph and thus betray himself. Ten cheyt! Ten gold pieces was the best haul he had ever made. And he would need every vey.
"A fair price?" Calon asked.
"More than I expected," said Kesh.
Calon grinned. "Malia is never wrong. I'm of a mind to have them trained in my own house. That younger one, now… in a few years, if she has the talent, she might hope to marry one of Olossi's old merchants who has lost his first pair of wives from childbearing or the swamp fever. I can expect to sell her for ten times what I paid. So you're getting no bargain, Keshad. Do not think I am sentimental."
"I am satisfied it is a fair price. You'll have to train and feed them. Let us seal it."
Malia led the girls away. They did not look back as they vanished through the inner door into their new life.
MASTER FEDEN LIVED in the inner city, but his clearinghouse, like those of the other sixteen Greater Houses, stood in the outer city along Stone Field, the rectangular plaza at the heart of Merchants' Walk. Paving stones rumbled beneath the wheels of Tebedir's cart, an oddly comforting sound after months squeaking along packed-earth roads. With afternoon settling over the day, traffic in the plaza was thinning out. Shade Hour beckoned. Olossi was slipping into its daily drowse.
Feden's clearinghouse wore a banner of green and orange silk, ghastly colors pieced together in a quartered flower. Its front had seven gates, doors built to a doubled height and width, but only the servants' entrance remained open at this hour. They drove through the open doors, nodding to the yawning guard, who recognized Keshad and passed him through with an uninterested wave. The wagon rattled down a high arched corridor built of stone and into the dusty, treeless courtyard where Master Feden's hired men and slaves hauled water from the cistern, laded handcarts for transport into town, and loitered in the shade offered by rooftops.
"It's Kesh!"
The slaves sweating at their labors set aside their tasks and came over to gather beside the wagon. They looked, but did not touch.
"How'd the run go?" asked old Sushad, wiping sweat from the drooping side of his mouth.
Kesh nodded, too full to speak, and the others, who had been whispering and eager, fell silent and moved away to let Tebedir drive the wagon into a bay at Kesh's direction. Tebedir unhitched the horses and led them to a trough built against the outermost wall of the courtyard. Kesh counted up costs in his head. Feden would charge him for water and feed and stabling, so he had to work quickly and reach the master before it came time to raise the Shade Hour flag.
Footsteps slapped the dirt. He turned.
Nasia slipped into the shaded cover of the cargo bay. She wore a short linen tunic. Her legs and feet were bare, dusty from the courtyard, and she had a smudge of whiting powder on her nose, a smear of oil across her knuckles, and a fresh bruise on her cheek.
"Is it true?" she asked in her soft voice. She didn't touch him. Her slave bracelets glimmered as she raised her hands, and dropped them again. "They're saying in the halls that you've earned enough to buy your freedom."
"Maybe so."
She waited, but he shook his head.
"I told you already," he went on. "I told you honestly. I'm going for Bai."
Her face would never be beautiful, but she had eyes as lovely and expressive as a doe's, wide and almost black. "You can't," she said, trembling. "You can't possibly be able to buy her free from the temple."
"A treasure fell in my lap. It's now, or never."
She choked down tears, but he did not comfort her. He had told her the truth all along, and probably she had never believed him. Hope is a cruel master.
"Master Feden hoped we might tie the binding," she whispered. "He gave permission."
"And give him our children's labor to fatten his purse, and more debt for us to pay off? No."
"If you can hope to go for-her-you could buy off my debt instead. You could."
"I don't have time for this."
"Did you ever love me, Kesh?"
"I never told you I did. I like you, that's all."
"I got-I got-" She pressed a hand to her abdomen. "They made me drink the herbs. I lost a baby."
Eiya! Nasia had gotten pregnant. Maybe with his child. Or maybe with the child of one of Master Feden's customers. No matter.
"A child born to a slave is better off not being born," he said. "Would you want that? To begin a child's life when it's in debt already? It was for the best. You'll see that, in time. Anyway, this is the end of it, Nasia. You're a good girl. If I can ever help you, I will, but now I have to hurry. I can't afford to pay a whole day's stabling charge."