"You're being modest, Brint. I know Torgan, remember? I know that the two of you are more than just merchants. You have an eye for quality, and a knack for finding the treasures in a crowded marketplace that the rest of us would miss. That's how he came by the baskets-he spotted them, and immediately he knew their worth." Jasha looked at the man. "I think that's what happened with you, too. You saw them, and you knew instantly how valuable they were. I had one of them, briefly, before I sold it again. It was finer than any basket I'd ever seen."
"I wouldn't know," Brint said. "I haven't seen any of her baskets."
"Really?" Jasha asked. "I could have sworn that you had."
At that Brint finally turned to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you reacted pretty strongly when I first mentioned them.
The man turned back to the fire. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I wasn't the only one who noticed." Jasha indicated the other merchants with a small bob of his head. "They were looking at you. They heard it in your voice."
"I'm telling you, there was nothing to hear."
Jasha shrugged. "All right. If you tell me it's so, I believe you. It's a shame, though."
A silence hung between them for some time, until Jasha began to wonder if he had handled this poorly, or if perhaps he had been wrong about Brint in the first place. Maybe he didn't know anything about the woman. Still they sat, and neither of them spoke. At last, unsure of what else to do, Jasha stood, intending to speak with some of the others. Perhaps there was more that Ghella could tell him.
"Well, good night, Brint."
"What's a shame?" the merchant asked him before Jasha could walk away.
"-What?"
"You said before, 'It's a shame.' What did you mean by that?"
Jasha sat again. "I just meant that a lot of people have died already. A lot more are going to. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something that would keep that from happening. It seems I was wrong." He paused, eyeing the man. "You did say that I was wrong, didn't you?"
"It's just white-hairs, isn't it? The ones who are dying?"
"So far, yes. But it's a bad death. I've seen it, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even the Fal'Borna."
"And what happens to you if you don't find… what you're looking for?"
"Probably they'll execute me, and Torgan, too."
Jasha didn't even have to look at him. He could feel the man fighting himself. Brint did know about the woman; it was just a matter of getting him to admit it. And Jasha knew with equal clarity that there was precious little he could do in that regard. This was up to Brint.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he said, standing once more. "I'm going to speak with some of the others. They might be able to help me. Thank you, Brint."
"For what? I didn't do anything."
"Well, thank you anyway."
Jasha left him there, stepping around the circle, and went to sit beside two other merchants. He didn't remember the name of either and he didn't expect that they would be able to tell him anything of value. But he chatted with them for a long while, until most of the others had gone to sleep. At one point Tegg approached Jasha, and told him that he was welcome to bed down for the night beside their fire. Jasha thanked him and said that he would.
Through all of this, Brint remained awake, doing much the same thing he had done all night. He stared at the fire and he drank wine, and said nothing to anyone.
Finally, the last of the merchants went off to sleep, leaving just Jasha and Brint. Still the red-haired man didn't speak, and though Jasha knew better than to press the matter, his frustration mounted. He was tired, and he feared that whatever Brint knew might be of little consequence, in which case he would have wasted the entire night.
The fire popped loudly, and a swarm of glowing sparks rose into the night. Jasha picked up a long stick and stirred the embers, trying to coax a bit more light and warmth from them. When he looked up again, Brint was staring at him.
"Tell me about this pestilence," he said.
"What is it you want to know?"
The big man hesitated, appearing unsure of himself. "Why does it strike at their kind but not at us?"
"I don't know," Jasha said.
"Before, you said that the sept you found had been ruined."
Jasha nodded. "Yes. By magic. It seems that when the Qirsi are stricken they lose control of their power. Their fire magic, their healing, their shaping-all of it runs wild, destroying everything and everyone around them."
Brint nodded and began once more to stare into the dying flames.
After what seemed an eternity he said, in a voice that barely carried over the settling of the coals, "She told me this would happen."
It took Jasha a moment. "Who did?"
The red-haired merchant just looked at him.
"You mean the Mettai woman?" he whispered, his eyes widening.
Brint chewed his lip, looking, for all his bulk, like a boy caught in a lie. Finally, he nodded.
"Where did you see her, Brint? You have to tell me."
"I thought she was mad. You have to believe that. One moment she was selling me baskets, and the next she was shouting this nonsense at me about how they would destroy everything. It made no sense."
"You have to tell me everything, Brint. All of it. Every detail matters."
" 'Death and ruin.' That's what she said to me. That's what she said the baskets would bring."
It was as if they were carrying on different conversations.
"Brint!" Jasha said sharply, forcing the man to look at him again. "Tell me everything. Where were you?"
"I found her among the ruins of some old village. The place looked to have been deserted for decades. It was right near N'Kiel's Span on the Silverwater."
"What did she say to you?"
Brint shrugged. "We talked for a long while. She seemed fine at first. Sane, that is. She asked me about where I was from and we bargained over the price of the baskets. It was only when I told her that…" He stopped, chewed his lip again.
"When you told her what?"
"I… I think I said at first that I had been looking for Mettai and Y'Qatt goods. Later, after she'd sold me the baskets, I told her that I was headed to the plain to trade with the Fal'Borna. That's when she started talking like a madwoman."
"What did she say exactly?"
"I told you already," Brint said, sounding sullen. 'Death and ruin.' Nonsense like that."
"That was all?" Jasha asked, certain that it wasn't, that she'd told the man a great deal more than that. "She sounded mad, you said. I'm sure that all of it sounded like the ramblings of a crazy woman."
Brint pressed his lips then, but he nodded. "She said thousands would die, that entire villages would be destroyed. She said that I couldn't take them to the Qirsi, because she hated them. I think… I think she wanted me to take them to the Y'Qatt."
Jasha frowned. "The Y'Qatt?"
"Yes. That's when she got so angry; when she realized that I wouldn't be taking the baskets to the Y'Qatt."
It made no sense. Jasha could understand why an Eandi, even a Mettai, might hate the Fal'Borna enough to loose this plague upon them. But the Y'Qatt were ascetics, Qirsi who refused to use their magic for any reason at all. They were peaceful, and they kept to themselves.
"You're sure of this?" Jasha asked.
"Yes. I know it makes no sense. None of what she said did. That's why I didn't think much of it."
Jasha considered this for a few moments longer, but he could think of no reason why the Mettai would hate the Y'Qatt so much. Eventually he decided that this was something the Fal'Borna would have to figure out for themselves. He'd found out what he could.
"Do you still have the baskets?" he asked.
Brint shook his head. "She tried to buy them back from me when she found out where I was taking them." Suddenly the big man couldn't stop talking. "She offered me all the gold she had, plus what I'd just paid her."