Chương 17: Chapter 16 – A Good Salesman - Part 1

Bracken turned the jar over in his hands, admiring the softly glowing mushrooms within. It was warm to the touch, the light a deep red throb as if it shone through bloodstained glass. Even with their spores contained, his body responded to the Graspers in a visceral way, his palms sweating and teeth grinding with need. Or perhaps he was just trying to blame the things for a hunger all his own. The mushrooms were the product of raw Planar power, an overlap between Thulmor and Wodfyr, shadow and flame.

There was something seductive about them that almost made him forget his revulsion for the Plane of cowards and killers. Maybe he could take just one? Keep it safe and separate. Not even necessarily for himself. Torvin wanted to be Wodfyr Stained, after all. Maybe they could expunge the shadow element from them, or dilute its taint with the presence of more fire…

"Not so easy to let them go, is it?" Tevaro asked, startling Bracken from his reverie. He looked up to find the Maeruki watching him intently across the table laid out with his wares. They stood on the same narrow canal street where Bracken had met the swindler four days prior. Every now and then a boat glided quietly through the canal, bringing goods deeper into the city or stopping where a merchant could tie off and set up a stall.

Most of the merchants had already arrived, only stragglers still trickling in to take the unclaimed spaces and await the morning crowds."' Course it is," Bracken lied, putting the jar down with just a little too much force and sliding it towards Tevaro. His hand lingered on it a moment longer, fingers reluctant to uncurl from around the heated glass. Tevaro quickly covered the poisonous treasure with a handkerchief before disappearing the bundle into his pocket.

His eyes roved up and down the canal, surreptitiously looking out for anyone watching too closely who may have seen the exchange. Bracken did the same, the Maeruki's nerves infectious. If anyone had noticed the hand off, they didn't seem to care.

"And the rest of my money?" Tevaro asked, holding out one long-fingered hand expectantly.

"Here," Bracken pressed a few silver coins into his palm, the last half of the payment owed for their deal.

"What about what Cinder is paying you? Personally, I think we should at least split it. We paid for the Graspers, after all."

"Then you should have negotiated that sooner. I am taking the risk here. The money is mine," Tevaro said with an apologetic smile, like he'd beaten a small child in a game they'd had no chance of winning. Bracken let it go, too worried about all that might yet go wrong to bother arguing over a few coins. The money they'd spent so far would be coppers compared to how much the knuckles could sell for if he found the right buyer. He hadn't quite worked out that detail of the plan yet.

A point which he was glad the others hadn't asked too many questions about. There were options. One or two merchants on the hill had longstanding contracts with the Wardens and Stain-using guilds. He might be able to finesse a deal with them, or else dig into his father's new connections with the Magister's Stained enforcers. The trouble would be finding one willing to take them off his hands without too many questions.

Minor trinkets were one thing, but Imperial law put strict conditions and controls on the trade of anything with real power.

"Don't forget, I leave this afternoon," Tevaro reminded him. There was a hint of real concern in his voice.

"You grow a sense of self-preservation between now and then; I'll be casting off from the pier near Stonebend. Got room for a few stowaways if you're willing to work."

"Thanks for the offer," Bracken nodded. They both knew he wouldn't be taking it. Bracken cast one more look over the merchant's wares, frowning at the lack of anything all that special. True, he hadn't a pair of coppers left to rub together, but maybe he would have felt a little less nervous if he had an extra trick up his sleeve. A couple of warm rocks, an eye mask, and a handful of craftsman's tools did not an enchanted arsenal make.

Bracken stretched, puffed out his cheeks with a long exhale and shook the nerves from his hands. With one last nod to the Maeruki, he pulled up his hood and said, "Good luck." Tevaro grunting a half-hearted echo of the sentiment as Bracken shuffled over to a space between the Maeruki's stall and the next one over. He laid out a worn straw mat, placed an upturned hat in front of himself, and knelt with his head down and arms out.

He'd gone so far as to trade one of his nicer cloaks for a beggar's threadbare one to sell the image properly. He liked the Maeruki well enough, but there was no way he'd let such a critical part of the plan go off unsupervised. Bracken cast one final look around the market, noting Sable and Torvin were both in position as well. Torvin was drifting from stall to stall, annoying shopkeepers by picking up and handling wares he had neither the intention nor the money to buy.

Sable was doing the same, but people tended to tolerate that sort of thing much better when it came from her. Thus, they waited. They didn't have to wait long. Sable noticed them first. Positioned at the northern end of the street, she gave the signal that the duo was approaching, dropping down to one knee and adjusting the laces of her boot. Bracken immediately leaned forward, hiding his face in shadow and doing his best to look inconspicuous.

From the sound of a pair of coppers clattering into his hat as someone walked by in front of him, he decided he was doing a good job. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. He felt Cinder and Pike's approach as much as he heard it. Pike lumbered, his footfalls heavy and clumsy. Cinder rushed, not quite running but not far off. His approach brought a wave of heat, as if he carried a burning brazier with him.

The air dried, moisture burning away as the man stepped past Bracken, passing within two feet of him. Bracken didn't dare look up.

"Ah, master Cinder, master Pike, sirs, it is pleasure to see you as always," Tevaro intoned, effortlessly donning the mask and accent of an exotic Maeruki merchant once more.

"Tevaro," Cinder greeted, sounding almost genuine in his warmth. Bastard must have been genuinely excited.

"Pike here was worried you'd be a no show. I'm glad he was wrong."

"You wound Tevaro, sirs. If Tevaro says he will do a thing, then a thing he will do. A merchant's word is his honour, no?"

"I hope not. Don't reckon I've ever met either a Maeruki or a merchant with a lick of honour, and what with you being both, I don't much think you're gonna be the first to break that trend, Tevaro. But I do trust that, just like every other spindly blue shit, you're greedy. So, have you got my goods, or not?" The Caller tossed a pouch up and down, coins jingling within. He must have been all but vibrating with eagerness from the sound of his voice. Even his insults sounded more like banter than threats.

Bracken smiled into his hood, darkly satisfied with just how profoundly he and the Wyrms were going to ruin the bastard's day.

"Most wise, master Cinder, most wise. Men's intentions are like the winds, yes? Blowing here and there, always changing. But greed is like the tide. Reliable. Yes, Tevaro has your treasures, sir. His contacts are many and useful, these treasures purchased at steep expense from powerful Planewalkers. Harvested from the winding paths through the Planes, secret places known only to Tevaro's friends." Tevaro kept talking, weaving a fantasy about how difficult the Graspers were to obtain.

He made it sound like he'd all but traded his soul to a demon from the hottest depths of Wodfyr to acquire the mushrooms and it was a testament to Cinder's good mood that the Caller let him keep talking for so long. A commotion down the street caught Bracken's attention, distracting him from listening. Someone had fallen into the water with an armload of goods. They splashed about, scrabbling frantically for the side of the canal.

A few others had turned to stare as well, one man pausing by the water's edge, halfway crouched with his arm extended. He'd stopped, open mouthed, as if forgetting he was in the middle of helping someone and stared at a boat gliding north through the water. Something large and misshapen was hidden beneath a tarp in the front half of the dingy. The prow was sunk low in the water, struggling beneath the poorly distributed weight.

A man stood at the stern, though the vessel was too small for the term to have much meaning, barely large enough to fit six men sitting two abreast. He guided the boat carefully, holding the rudder steady with his one arm, his other sleeve hanging empty at his side. Strangely, the boat moved with neither a sail nor an oarsman. It drifted forward at a steady speed, no doubt propelled by some Implement beneath the water.

As he drew nearer, Bracken realised why those further down the street had found him so distracting. He recognised the man. Shit, even if he hadn't seen his wanted poster up on Glasshill, he'd have known him from a hundred rumours and stories told in taverns. One arm, long black hair, and now that Bracken was looking for it, a clawed right hand with skin Stained hellish red. Kindness was his name. A member of the Strays, one of the Blackfoot's own men. The Strays were a well-known band.

Monster-hunters, heroes, bandits, or deserters turned mercenary. Every story Bracken had heard about the Strays called them something different. Half of them were low-Stained, and though each member of the group had an Imperial bounty on their head, Bracken had never heard of anyone dumb enough to pursue them. The Strays visited Greymere sometimes on their travels through the Teeth – the set of islands that formed a broken archipelago West of the Weldric mainland.

The full band never visited the city proper, only ever sending a representative or two to take bounty notices for Hollows or hand in evidence of their kills. Never the Blackfoot himself. Bracken hadn't realised they were back. The misshapen lump beneath the tarp seemed more ominous, all of a sudden. Tevaro was too caught up in his act to notice Kindness' arrival, blathering on about how his treasures were well worth every ounce of silver he was asking for.

"Tevaro is sure such a wise and astute gentleman as yourself needs no warning, sir, but he feels he must warn you all the same. Fruit so potent as this, it could overwhelm your soul, twist you into a Planewarped beast that knows only hunger and rage. You must centre yourself, sir, and do your best to endure the magics within as your body is remade. When you are ready, you must ignite them like incense and breathe deep of the smoke."

He finally produced the softly glowing jar from his pocket, the light spilling across the cobbles like a pool of blood in the corner of Bracken's vision.

"You're right, Tevaro. You don't need to fuckin' warn me," Cinder snapped, losing what little patience he had.

"Now, how much is it?"

"Of course, sir, of course. It is… umm.. the cost…" Tevaro trailed off, distracted. Kindness' boat had just stopped right beside the Maeruki's stall. Bracken stared, open mouthed, forgetting to even lower his head. A stink like a butcher's shop wafted from the boat, affirming Bracken's suspicions about what rested beneath that tarp. Kindness sniffed the air, squinting in the direction of Tevaro. Bracken risked a glance towards the merchant and saw that both Cinder and Pike had also turned to stare at the newcomer.

No one spoke as Kindness bent down, his left sleeve swelling, a limb made of roiling smoke manifesting within. A Forged, at least. All the Strays were. He picked up a rope with those black, shifting fingers, no less able to grasp things for their lack of solid substance. Calmly, ignoring the dozen sets of eyes watching his every movement, he tied off the boat at the nearest wooden bollard and climbed up onto the street.

"Excuse me," said Kindness to the Maeruki.