Clean Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #1)

Clean Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #1) Page 28

He mulled that over.

We made a right, then another right, and stopped before a large building. A rectangular doorway gaped in the middle, dark like the mouth of some beast. A gray-skinned woman blocked it. Her dark hair fell below her waist in thin dreads. She looked at us with gold eyes, saw my face, and smiled, showing a mouth full of sharp, triangular teeth.

"Greetings, Dina."

"Greetings, saar ah. Will the Merchant see me?"

"Nuan Cee always has time for you." Saar ah stepped aside. "Come on in."

The foyer opened into a large room. Large square tiles, gray with the familiar geometric border, lined the floor and climbed the walls. Green, blue, and dark purple plants grew here and there in ornate pots. At the far wall, a long slit spilled water across tile and it ran down the twenty-foot wall to fall into a narrow basin with a soft splash.

A low table, carved from a solid block of volcanic glass, stood to the left, surrounded by comfortable, dark purple sofas. Saar ah led us to it, smiled and showed her shark teeth, then went to stand by the wall. We both remained standing.

"What is she?" Sean asked me quietly.

"I've seen her people a couple of times, but they are reclusive and usually keep to their own world. I can tell you that for saar ah to serve a Merchant, she would have to be really good. There are hundreds of vendors at the Baha-char, but only a few dozen of them are Merchants. Merchants handle significant transactions and to become one, you have to have a fleet and show a lot of profit. Some of them specialize in large shipments. Some like Nuan Cee, deal in rare goods. Basically, if you want something you can't readily buy on the street because it's hard to find or you need it in a large quantity, you go to a Merchant."

"Anything I need to know about this particular Merchant?" Sean asked.

"Nuan Cee is vain, fussy, and difficult." I glanced at saar ah. "Anything I left out?"

A flash of shark teeth. "Excitable."

"That too. He is also rich and very respected, and if he can't get what you're looking for, then what you're asking for is impossible." Chances were, Nuan Cee was listening to us and a little flattery never hurt.

The gauzy lavender-and-blue curtain on the right parted, and a creature stepped into view. He walked upright but stood barely four feet tall, including the six-inch lynx ears. Short, silver-blue fur covered his frame like soft velvet, dappled with pale golden rosettes on his back and fading to almost white on his stomach. His face would've been feline if it weren't for an elongated muzzle that resembled a fox's snout. He wore a silk apron and jewelry made from small cream and blue shells. His large round eyes were bright with vivid turquoise irises.

He smiled at me, showing sharp teeth. "Dina. Come sit, sit, sit."

We sat.

He glanced at Sean. "I see you have finally employed Saar ah."

"He is a friend," I told him. "I don't need a bodyguard. I am not important like the great Nuan Cee."

The Merchant smiled. "I do like to converse with you. You are always most pleasant." His furry face turned somber. "Have you news of your parent figures?"

"No."

He nodded. "I have kept my ear to the wind but there are no answers, only whispers too vague to sense. Should I hear something, I shall send word."

That word would be expensive, but I would pay for it, whatever the price might be.

"So how can this humble trader help you today?"

"I'm looking to purchase a clutch of Anansi pearls."

Nuan Cee leaned forward. His eyes shone with predatory glee. His lips parted, revealing carnivore fangs in a disturbing smile. "Ooooh. You're going to ki...i...ill someone. Who is it? Is it someone I know?"

"Probably not."

He laughed like a cat sneezing and waved his paw-hands. "Very good, very good, keep your secrets, keep, keep. Now then, what have you brought in trade?"

I'd brought a couple of things. My parents had traded with Nuan Cee; I'd watched them make deals since I was a toddler. Things like gold and jewels meant nothing to a rare-goods trader. After all, gold was just a metal that could be found on hundreds of worlds. Nuan Cee wanted something unique and rare. Something wrapped in legend. And to pay for Anansi pearls, that something had to be very special.

Sean passed me the backpack. I unzipped it and pulled out three large bottles. Each had a yellow label with a portrait of an older man smoking a cigar. "Pappy Van Winkle's fifteen-year-old Family Reserve bourbon. Best small-batch bourbon in show at San Francisco's World Spirits. Nearly impossible to get."

As an opening trade, it wasn't half-bad. It had taken me forever to get the bourbon, and I knew for a fact that Nuan Cee kept up with the alcohol trade on dozens of planets. This was my proof that I could procure something rare.

Nuan Cee leaned forward, enthusiastic. "Interesting. Four pearls. Five for you. Your parent figures always brought me the best things, and I will be generous in their memory."

Five wouldn't cut it. He wanted the bourbon, but not nearly enough. It was time for the real thing. Here's hoping it did its job well enough.

I reached into the backpack and extracted a small jar wrapped in bubble wrap. I peeled the wrap off and set the jar on the table. Nuan Cee peered at the viscous yellow fluid within.

"What would this be?"

"A treasure." I leaned forward and moved the jar. The ray of sun from the window pierced the contents and the liquid glowed like molten gold.

Nuan Cee's eyes sparked.

"On Earth, far to the south of me and near the equator, lies a sea, a pure crystalline blue. At its north edge, where two continents touch, stretches an arid plain. As one moves farther from the water, the plain rises and turns into barren hills and desolate mountains. Between the mountains hide wadis, narrow fertile valleys, secreted from the world. It is an ancient land, named after a ruthless warlord. Legend says he was so devastating in battle that his enemies knew facing his army meant the end of their existence. They called this place Hadramout. It means 'death has arrived.'"

Nuan Cee was listening.

"Twice a year, simple artisans make the arduous trek through these mountains as their ancestors have done for seven thousand years. They climb the secret trails to the east, toward the rising sun, until they come to the valley where the sidr trees grow. The sidr are sacred to many religions. Muslims know them as trees of Paradise. Christians believe that when Man was cast from the Garden of Eden by God, it was the fruit of the sidr tree that first gave him sustenance. Its roots dig deep into the soil, so far it can survive the most ferocious floods and droughts. Every part of the tree is medicinal, every leaf is precious. But the artisans take none of it. Carefully, gingerly, they harvest the honey from the bees that feed on the pollen of those trees and make their long perilous journey back. The sidr honey they bring with them cures many ills. It is the essence of that ancient, savage land. It's very lifeblood. There is none rarer or more highly prized."

Nuan Cee looked at the jar. "Twelve."

I rose. "My apologies. I hadn't realized that great Nuan Cee had fallen on hard times. Forgive me. I meant no offense."

Nuan Cee hissed at the insult. I reached for the jar.

"Twenty," he barked.

I pondered the jar in front of me. It felt like walking a tightrope. If the deal fell through, I had no idea where to go next. "I'm in great need. That's the only reason I'm willing to part with it. I bargain for my life, Merchant. You know my price."

"Thirty-two," he said. "The full clutch. It is my final offer."

I waited for the painful five seconds. "We have a deal."

Twenty minutes later we left Nuan Cee's warehouse, pushing a heavy cart in front of us. Inside, in sealed crates, rested the Anansi pearls. Thirty-two. Enough to murder a battalion of Navy SEALs. Maybe two battalions.

"Do Navy SEALs have battalions?" I asked.

"No. SEALs have teams, which are organized into warfare groups. Each team has several platoons in it, usually six. The Army has battalions. Was any of that story true?"

"About the honey? Yes. It's the most expensive honey in the world and it's harvested in Yemen."

He grunted. "How much did it set you back?"

"That jar he has is one kilo, so about two point two pounds. It goes for about ninety dollars a pound. With shipping, it ends up being around two fifty per large jar. Of course, you have to know where to buy the real thing..."

Sean stared at me.

"What?"

"Two hundred and fifty bucks?"

"Well, it's honey, not white truffles. There is a price ceiling there."

"What happens when he realizes you sold him a jar of honey he could've gotten for two hundred and fifty dollars?"

"I sold him the rarest, most expensive honey on planet Earth. Exactly as advertised. He will use my story to resell it for thousands in whatever currency he wishes. If he decides I got the better of him, it will just make him respect me more."

Sean shook his head.

"Besides, if things went sour, you would totally spring to my rescue. I'm sure if you did some ferocious growling..."

Sean stopped and peered down the alley. I listened. A quiet melody floated on the breeze, beautiful and sad. It came from the dark archway just ahead. Sean pushed the cart forward, forgetting I was there, and stopped before the door.

A man leaned against the doorway. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of graying hair, he watched us from the shadows. The light caught his eyes and they flashed with telltale yellow. A werewolf.

Next to me Sean went really still. He wasn't afraid. He just waited, loose and ready, watching, listening.

"What unit?" the man called out.

Sean didn't answer.

"I asked you a question, soldier. Where were you stationed?"

"Fort Benning," Sean said. "I didn't fight for your world in your war. I fought for my country in mine."

The man stepped forward. Weather and age had chiseled his face. He looked grizzled, scuffed around the edges like an old gun, but no less deadly. He inhaled deeply.