Authors: Tamora Pierce
He drew up before the house and Nestor whistled. A mussed serving girl threw the door open. "Have Haden take the cart to the stable round the corner," Nestor ordered her. The gixie turned and screeched into the house, "Haden, master wants ye!"
A lad the age of my brother Nilo trotted out as Goodwin and I got down. He took over the reins and had the cart rattling down the street before we'd even reached the door.
"Don't wreck it!" Nestor bellowed after him. As we followed him in, he told the gixie, "If he wrecks it, I'm selling your brother to the Copper Isles."
"Where they'll curse yer name forever, sir," she said, not a whit afraid of him.
"Impudence. I am surrounded by it. I am
starving!"
Nestor bellowed as the gixie skipped up the stair and through an open door. As Nestor led us inside, he explained, "The ground floor belongs to my lodger, Okha Soyan. My rooms are on the upper story."
We followed him up the stairs and into his home to enter a main room clearly meant for sitting, work, and eating. Two doors opened off of it. I guessed that they led to a kitchen and a bedroom.
"I bespoke supper early. I hope you don't mind," Nestor told Goodwin. "I'm not fit company till I've had my evening meal."
"An early supper is fine," Goodwin said. "We'll want to settle in tonight, when we'd normally be out and about, right, Cooper?"
I nodded. I was more interested in watching the person who came in from the room that must be the kitchen, from the good smells that came from it. I knew from his visits to Provost's House that Nestor's lodger was in truth his lover, and I confess I was curious to see the man who had dashed my fourteen-year-old marriage hopes. Nestor had never said Okha was a Carthaki, back when he'd mentioned him to me, yet Carthaki Okha clearly was. Okha's skin was light brown. His black hair was shoulder length and made glossy by some kind of hair oil. He looked to be the same age as Nestor, thirty-one. His eyes were large and dark, his nose short, his mouth thin. He is two inches taller than me, which makes him five feet and ten inches. He is slender in build and graceful, far more graceful than me.
Okha's tunic was autumn orange. I didn't recognize the style of the embroideries. Very dramatic, they were, in black, white, and green zigzags on his hems and collar. He wore slippers stamped with black designs. Large bracelets with odd beaded designs were on his arms, amber drops hung from his ears, and amber beads circled his neck. He wore kohl around his eyes, red paint on his lips. His nails were colored orange, like the Bazhir and the Carthakis do.
Looking at what I've written, I can see that I've described Okha as I would for a Dog report. I do that all of the time, with near everyone I meet when I have their names. But I also want to write of Okha in such a way to sort out how I feel about him. I was so in love with Nestor back then, and I was cracked jealous of a cove I'd never met. I half expected to hate Okha on sight, but I don't. I like him, a bit, and I don't trust that. I don't trust liking someone on sight. If Pounce was here, I could ask him, but he's not. I can trust his instincts more than mine. But he's gone, and I'm left floundering. I couldn't even see how Achoo is with him because she was at Serenity's.Is that a Dogthing to want other opinionsNever mind, Beka! Leave the muddling for scholars!
"We were just waiting for you to get here," Okha told Nestor, letting Nestor kiss his hand. Okha's voice was musical and light for a cove's. He smiled at Goodwin. "I'm Okha Soyan. I dance and sing in some of the taverns and gambling houses."
I watched Goodwin, worried how she might handle meeting Okha. You can never tell how folk will greet a bardash or a honeylove. Many don't care, but most screech of unnatural minglings if they so much as see two grown mots or two coves touch hands. It's not what I would like for myself, but I won't speak for what others do. I have enough trouble keeping my own life untangled.
"Clara Goodwin," she replied to Okha's greeting without the tiniest of frowns. "Clary, to most. This is Rebakah Cooper."
Okha turned that bright smile on me. "I'm delighted to meet the famous Beka," he told me. "Nestor has kept me up to date on your accomplishments. He's as proud of you as if you were one of his own trainees." He looked at Goodwin again. "I hope you like our supper. Truda and I did a little cooking."
Goodwin raised her brows. "An entertainer who cooks?"
Okha chuckled. "Often, Mistress Clary, the two are the same. Please, take a seat." He'd steered Goodwin over to a table already set with tankards, spoons, and linen. "Will you have wine or ale?"
Nestor had gone into the kitchen. I sat beside Goodwin while Okha went to bring the ale to the table. "Very graceful," she murmured. "He makes me feel like a clod." She raised her brows at the look on my face. "Stop fretting, Cooper. I'm not going to start screaming. How they live is their own affair."
Nestor and Okha halted as they slid past each other in the narrow kitchen door. Okha bent and kissed Nestor's mouth, then went inside the other room. I looked down. Why in the Goddess's name are so many older people kissing in public of late?
"I'm going to change," Nestor told us. He vanished into another small room at the back of the main one.
I glanced at Goodwin. She was tapping her cheek with her finger. "Okha might help us to meet folk at the richer gambling dens," she said quietly. "It's worth asking."
Okha returned with an ale pitcher and filled cups for Goodwin, Nestor, and himself. The gixie Truda came a moment later with raspberry twilsey for me. It was wonderfully chilled, and cut the dust of all that racketing about in carts.
Okha and Truda had not brought together a meal as much as a feast. I've never been welcomed with such open hands. We had little leaves and fennel for a salad, cuttlefish in black sauce, Carthaki chicken with ginger, cloves, and fruits, fried mushrooms with spices, and cheese fritters. There was even a beet soup that I liked, despite not caring for beets.
I listened to the others talk about news from the palace and news from the port. They discussed ship trade, the harvest and the rye blight, the Bread Riot, and omens. Folk were saying that a sword had appeared in the harbor foam and had broken up, a sword like the one on Tortall's flag. Okha scoffed at that one, since foam is always breaking up. The bad harvest itself was supposed to be an omen that King Roger's crown was in trouble.
Once Truda had cleared the plates and left us with our drink and bowls of cardamom and anise seed to chew, the conversation turned to why we are in Port Caynn. Nestor had sworn Okha to secrecy yesterday about the reason for our presence. We had to trust Nestor's judgment, and Okha had news for us.
"I've taken about ten coles in fees for the last three weeks," he told us gravely. "The other entertainers are whispering about it, too. They're no fools. In the bordels they've stopped taking silver. It's copper nobles or gold pieces. The customers don't like it, but they pay. And I am certain the customers have begun to wonder." When Goodwin looked at him, Okha shrugged in an elegant way. "It's impossible to keep false coin a secret for long. It raises a stink, like bad eggs."
"But you say you don't know who's passing the coin to you," growled Nestor.
"I would have no clients left if I tattled," Okha replied. His face was calm. He didn't seem to mind that Nestor was vexed. "You have known that from the beginning, my dear. I can be useful in some ways, but a Birdie I am not."
"Perfectly sensible," Goodwin said. "Folk already know you live in Nestor's house. Chances are you're the first person they'd eyeball if he came sniffing around."
"Exactly," Okha said with a pleased smile.
"I know," Nestor said. "I
do
know. It just makes things curst complicated."
"Well, maybe Cooper and I will uncomplicate them for you," Goodwin said. "That's why we're here."
The evening ended soon thereafter. Both coves walked us back to our lodging – not to protect us, they insisted, but because it was too nice an autumn night to waste.
Goodwin and I set a time to meet in the morning and went to our rooms. First I took Achoo out by the brisk stream that flows through the rear yard of the lodging house. When we came back upstairs, I fed her and set about writing the rest of this long day's events in my journal. The worst of it is done now. I can sit here with the shutters open, Achoo curled beside me. From this seat I have a fine view of the city lights. The sound of the creek is peaceful.
I am not sleepy, though. I want to be out there, finding the gambling dens. I want to get a whiff of the smithy that turns the coles out, and the network that carries them inland. I wonder if this is how Achoo feels, all quivery and wishing to be taken off the leash.
One of the afternoon.
Though our bodies knew Evening Watch hours best, Goodwin and I were up around dawn, not being used to such an early bedtime. First things came first. I took Achoo outside, then brought her back in and fed her and Slapper. While I cleaned up and dressed in uniform for the day, Slapper flew out to inspect our new territory.
Goodwin rapped on my door. "Cooper. Breakfast."
There was a room just for dining on the ground floor. Three mots were seated there in Dog uniform also, eating with their heads down. They nodded or grunted when Goodwin and I came in, but seemingly none were in a mood for talk. We took our seats and let a maid serve us pease porridge and fresh-baked rolls. The tea was a strong mix of herbs, a true eye-opener loaded with mints and some ginger. By the time we were ready to leave, I was eager to face the strange city.
Goodwin and I set off down Coates Lane, Achoo beside me. The city was stirring. Folk were opening their shops. Coates Lane was too narrow for all but the smallest carts, so we had only horses and mules to avoid, in addition to folk with loads on their shoulders.
Overhead on our left shutters swung open and a mot leaned out. "'Ware scummer!" she cried, and emptied a chamber pot into the street. We dodged it and two more before Coates Lane emptied into Dockside Road.
Happily there were no houses on Dockside, and thus no chamber pots. Here the risks came from wagons, carts, horses, mules, and ships' cranes. The waterfront was wide awake, ships having come in on the tide to offload cargoes. Goodwin soon decided it was a little too busy for us and took an alley away from the bay. She had to tug me, since I was gawping, but I went quick enough when a sailor asked my name and when I came off duty. Up to Kings Way we went. Goodwin knew her way along the cross streets. I followed our path on the map I'd memorized, making certain that my information was true. We were bound for the Goldsmith's Bank at the southeast corner of Gerjuoy Road and Moneychangers' Street.
Once we'd reached the bank, Goodwin handed me a fat purse. "The moneychangers' booths are on the Gerjuoy side," she told me. "Get those changed for copper and for gold bits."
I bowed my head. "Um – Goodwin," I whispered.
I could see one of her fists go to her hip, over the grip of her baton. Her weight shifted so she rested on that hip. She was thinking.
"I shall guess. You've never been inside a guild bank before," she said quietly.
I nodded.
"Well, Cooper, it's easy enough that I taught Tunstall how to do it, and him barely able to speak Common Eastern," she informed me.
I swallowed a chuckle.
She went on. "There are tables with flags over them and clerks that sit behind them. The flags show where they change that realm's money. Whose money do you want to change?"
"Ours," I replied. "So I go to the tables with our flag over them."
Goodwin nodded. "And you ask the clerk behind the table – ?"
"To change our coin for coppers and gold bits," I answered. "And I get a receipt."
"I knew I forgot to tell you something," Goodwin said. "Exactly. Get a receipt. Trust me, the greatest danger is dying of boredom in the line. I'll be in the offices on the far side of the building. I'll take care of the rest of our coin and the letter of credit. You meet me in the waiting room there when you're done."
With that she strode off to the far side of the bank. For a moment I wanted to beg her to let me stay with her. I'll say it here, though nowhere else. I was terrified. These folk jostled me as if I was nobody. I could hear at least five different languages being spoke, when at home it's Common Eastern, with maybe some Bazhir and some Hurdik unless you're down by the docks. The clothes were just as mixed, and there were more brown- and yellow-skinned people than I am used to.
I looked at Achoo. She stood beside me, her paws set firm in the road, her nose up, scenting the air. I suddenly noticed that the bowed shoulders and the drooping tail of the hound I'd first met were gone. Achoo was happy. She was healthy, well fed, and ready to do her work in this place that held all kinds of information for her to find.
"You're right," I told her softly. "This is what we are made to do. We
should take
pleasure in it."
I stood up straight and took a deep breath. I am a Dog on my first hunt, with the best partner and the best hound in Tortall. I will not disappoint them.
I entered my assigned door and found myself in a great hall well lit by tall windows. Banners hung overhead showing the gold scale insignia of the guild. There were stalls at intervals along the far walls, some with the flags of foreign lands so folk would know those coins were changed there. A member of the guild, wearing the guild's badge, sat at a desk in each stall, ready to do service. A well-armed guard in leather armor, also sporting the guild insignia, stood before the stall, to guard the privacy of those that entered, and to take care of any Rats who thought to help themselves to the coin.
I took my place in a line before one of the stalls that changed Tortallan coin and tried to wait with patience. At last I stepped up to the moneychanger's desk. I took gold nobles from my purse and stacked them before the mot, twenty coins in all. When she began to remove silver nobles from one of the boxes at her side, I shook my head.