“Looking for someone?”
She spun to find Gerhard leaning against the corner of a building, arms crossed, a satisfied smile curling his thin lips. He’d put on weight since she’d last seen him, his expensive coat straining at the buttons, his fingers heavy with rings.
“Uncle.” The word tasted bitter in her mouth.
“Niece.” He pushed off from the wall, approaching with the casual confidence of a man who knew he held all the cards. “Or should I say, runaway? Thief? Contract-breaker?”
“I never signed a contract, and I’m not a thief.”
“The source of your materials says otherwise.” His smile widened. “Didn’t it come from Vultor territory? Did you think I wouldn’t find out where you’d gone? The whole village knows you fled into Vultor territory. They’re placing bets on whether you’re dead or merely… compromised.”
The crude implication made her stomach turn. “I came to trade. The cloth I’ve woven—it’s better than the original sample. Betterthan anything I’ve made before. If you’ll let me sell it to the merchants?—”
“The merchants left yesterday.” Gerhard examined his rings with affected casualness. “Something about unsafe roads and unreliable suppliers. It seems your little disappearing act made them nervous.”
No merchants. No buyers.
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
“Then I’ll travel to the next settlement. Find buyers there.” Desperation made her voice shake. “Just give me the medicine Halwick left. Please, Uncle. Dani is dying.”
“Ah yes. Little Dani.” Gerhard’s expression shifted, becoming something harder and uglier. “Such a fragile thing. Such a burden to care for. It would be a mercy, really, if she simply?—”
“Don’t.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Don’t you dare.”
“There’s fire in you after all.” He sounded almost impressed. “Your mother had that same fire. It’s what made her so useful, once I learned how to harness it.”
“What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted.” He stepped closer, and she forced herself not to retreat. “The contract fulfilled. I want the promised bolts of cloth, delivered on schedule, in the quantities I promised.”
“I can’t produce that much. I told you?—”
“You said you couldn’t with your old methods.” His eyes glittered. “But you’ve spent weeks in Vultor territory now. You must have learned their secrets.”
“How do you?—”
“I have eyes everywhere, girl. They couldn’t get too close but they got close enough to know you’re with him.” His lip curled. “Whoring yourself to a Vultor. Your mother would be so proud.”
“It’s not—he’s not—” She stopped, gathering herself. This was what he wanted. To throw her off balance, to make her emotional and easy to manipulate. “This has nothing to do with him. I came to trade for medicine. If you won’t sell it to me, then I’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way.” Gerhard’s voice dropped to something almost friendly. “The medicine comes from Port Cantor. The traders who carry it only come through once a season. Without my connections, you’ll never find another source in time.”
He’s lying. He has to be lying.
But even as she thought it, she knew he wasn’t. She’d researched Dani’s medicine extensively, trying to find alternatives. It was rare, expensive, and only produced in a handful of places—none of them within easy reach of this remote village.
“What do you want?” she asked again, her voice hollow.
“Return to the village. Take up residence in your cottage again. Produce the cloth.” He ticked off the requirements on his fingers. “I’ll provide the medicine—one bottle for every bolt of fabric you complete. You’ll have workers to assist you, and a guaranteed market for your goods. Everyone benefits.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then your sister dies.” He said it flatly, without emotion. “And when she does, there’ll be no reason for anyone to treat you gently.” His smile returned, thin and cruel. “I’ll get my cloth either way, Jessa. The only question is whether you come willingly, or whether I have to be… creative.”
The threat hung in the air between them.
Her mind raced. If she agreed, she’d be trapped here forever, chained to the loom, forced to produce impossible quantities of fabric while her uncle took the profits. She’d never see Tarek again. Never feel his arms around her, never hear his gruff voice softening when he spoke to Dani.
