"Cursed baskets?"
The tone of the question carried more than mere surprise at such an idea. Jasha knew it immediately, and it seemed that others noticed as well, for several of the merchants turned to glance back at the man who had spoken. He was a big man, not quite as tall as the white-haired merchant, but far heavier, with a large gut and an open, youthful face. He couldn't have been much older than Jasha. He wore a wide-brimmed leather hat, which hid most of his hair. But what little Jasha could see appeared in the firelight to be red. Jasha was certain that he had seen this man before in marketplaces along the Silverwater, or perhaps in one of the Eandi sovereignties, but he couldn't recall his name.
"Yes," Jasha said. "Do you know something about them?"
"No," the man said. "Not a thing."
"What's your name, friend?"
"Don't answer that," the white-haired merchant said, glancing back at the other man. "Not yet at least." He faced Jasha again. "I want more answers from you first. I've had enough dealings with the Fal'Borna to know that if they consider you an enemy, they won't just take your cart and goods and leave it at that. There's more to this tale, and I want to hear it."
Jasha nodded. "Yes, there's more. The Fal'Borna captured me as well as another merchant named Torgan Plye."
"Torgan?" the red-haired man said.
Several of the others exchanged looks; clearly all of them knew who Torgan was.
"Torgan had traded for some baskets and was near a Fal'Borna sept that suffered an outbreak of the pestilence. The Fal'Borna found us together, took our wares, and threatened to kill us if we didn't find the Mettai woman they believe is responsible for cursing the baskets. We've been searching the plain for her ever since, but thus far we've found neither the woman nor her goods. The only thing we have found is the ruins of another sept, and we did find scraps of Mettai baskets there."
The white-haired man eyed him for several moments before finally shaking his head again.
"I believe you're telling us the truth as far as it goes. But much of this still doesn't make sense to me. I think there are things you're keeping from us."
Jasha briefly considered denying it. In the next moment he rejected the idea, knowing that there was nothing to be gained by doing so. The man didn't believe him, and for good reason. Best to be as honest as he could be and see if that at least convinced the merchants to speak with him further.
"There are," he admitted. "I'll answer your questions as best I can, but there are certain things I can't tell you without endangering my life, as well as Torgan's."
"The Fal'Borna still have him?" the white-haired man asked.
"Yes."
The man considered this briefly. Then he stepped forward and offered Jasha his hand. "Very well. My name is Tegg Lonsher. I'd wager that I've been trading in the clan lands since before you were horn."
Jasha shook his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tegg."
Tegg began to introduce the other merchants, but Jasha had trouble remembering all the different names. Except for one: The red-haired man was called Brint HedFarren. Jasha recognized the name immediately. He was said to be one of the most successful merchants in all the Southlands. Though far younger than Torgan, he was already considered nearly Torgan's equal in terms of both the quality of his wares and his skill as a bargainer. Jasha found it easy to believe that, like Torgan, Brint might have seen the Mettai woman's baskets and been drawn to them by their vivid colors and fine workmanship.
When the introductions were done, the merchants returned to the fire, making room for Jasha in their circle and offering him food and wine. Tegg remained by his side though, and the old man peppered him with questions. Where had he been when the Fal'Borna caught up with him? To whose sept had he been taken? Why would the a'laq have been willing to let him leave on his own, without Fal'Borna guards? Had he considered returning to one of the sovereignties and getting help from the armies there? Who was this Mettai woman he was after, and how certain was he that she had actually cursed her baskets? Was this pestilence of hers the same one that had ravaged Y'Qatt villages near the Companion Lakes?
Jasha told him what he could, gauging Tegg's reactions and those of the people around him as he spoke. Several of the merchants were listening intently to their conversation; others were speaking among themselves, ignoring them.
Brint gave the appearance of doing neither. He stared at the fire, chewing on a piece of dried meat and occasionally taking a pull of wine from the skin that was making its way around the circle. But Jasha knew that he was listening to every word they said. The man's indifference to their conversation seemed too studied to be convincing.
Eventually, Tegg relented, satisfied that Jasha posed no threat to him or his friends. Free finally to pose his own questions, Jasha began by asking the most obvious.
"Are any of you selling any Mettai baskets right now?"
None of them were.
But when he next asked if any of them had seen Mettai baskets of high quality in the last turn or two, several of the merchants said that they had. One woman in particular-her given name was Ghella; he couldn't recall her family name, though he knew that he had seen her before in his travels-recalled seeing more than a dozen of them in the cart of another peddler.
"It was Lark, Tegg. You remember. That woman who sings so well." Tegg nodded, though he was frowning. "Of course I do. She had baskets? You're certain?"
Ghella nodded. She was heavy, with long, auburn hair and a friendly, round face. "Yes, I'm sure of it. We were north and east of here when I saw her, and she had several of them. She said that she hadn't put them out yet, that she was still trying to decide what to ask for them. I tried to buy a few, but she wanted two sovereigns for each, and I couldn't buy enough of them to make it worth my while." She shook her head. "Shame, really. They were lovely."
"Do you know where she was headed?" Jasha asked.
"The Horn, I think. But I can't be certain."
The Horn. Jasha shuddered. That was the center of the Fal'Borna clan lands. There was no telling how many people would die if those baskets reached D'Raqor, or one of the other cities there.
Another man claimed to have seen the baskets as well, but he proved far less helpful than Ghella. He couldn't recall the name of the peddler who had been carrying them, and his description of the baskets he'd seen was vague enough to leave Jasha wondering if they had been made by the same woman. Not long after, the man returned to his cart to sleep.
Tegg watched him go before turning to Jasha again.
"Don't put too much faith in what Kalib tells you. He doesn't like it when he's not the center of a conversation. I'd he surprised if he even knew what a basket was."
Jasha grinned. "Thank you." He nodded toward Brint. "What about him?" he asked, dropping his voice to a soft whisper.
"Young Red?" Tegg answered. "He's a good man. If he tells you something, you can bet it's the truth."
"All right. Again, my thanks." Jasha stood, and walked over to where Brint was sitting, his eyes still fixed on the low flames of their campfire. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.
Brint looked up at him for just an instant and shrugged. Jasha sat beside him and rubbed his hands together before holding them out to the fire.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say it feels like snow."
"We've another turn before the Snows come," Brint said. "But they'll he hard this year, that's for certain."
Jasha nodded. "Before, when I first got here, I had the sense that maybe you know something about these baskets, or maybe about the woman who made them."
Brint shook his head, but he didn't meet Jasha's gaze. "I don't know anything more than the rest of these folk. I'm just a merchant trying to make some gold on the plain before the Snows send me back south."