“The traveling peddler is here.Since you came here with only what you could carry—erm, that, and a goblin—I thought you’d want to know.He’s waiting at the entry.”
Curious to find out what an orcish merchant might sell, I followed Droko out.I paused only to scoop up my sullied shirt and slip it into the nearest brazier…only to wish I hadn’t.The cave interior was hot, and thick with humidity, but out by the entrance, a wicked breeze cut through that raised goosebumps on my arms and hardened my nipples into fierce points.
The peddler’s eyes went right to them.
And he wasn’t an orc at all.
He was a few years older than me, though I couldn’t place his exact age.His clothes had seen better days, but he wore his tattered lace with the unabashed pride of a lord in ermine.His reddish brown hair was too long to be practical, held back by a satin bow.But it was the way his eyes turned up at the corners that really piqued my interest.
While he might be no orc…I wasn’t so sure he was a human, either.With his exotic good looks, no doubt he’d fetch a fine price at the red lantern and would never go to bed hungry.
Droko looked him up and down, nostrils flaring.I’ve never been able to afford the luxury of jealousy.But as I realized Droko wassmellingthis newcomer, my cheeks went hot with anger.
Oblivious—or maybe just used to it—the peddler sketched a deep bow with a ridiculously overdone flourish.“Pleased to make the acquaintance of this new shaman who’s got everyone all abuzz.Name’s Silver, costermonger extraordinaire.At your service, m’lord.”
“I’m nobody’s lord,” Droko said gruffly.“It’s Droko.”
“Droko the Sage,” snapped another orchish voice as Gargle emerged from a side tunnel.His nostrils flared, too.
But I wasn’t entirely sure it was this Silver character he was sniffing.
Did heknowwhat the shaman and I had been up to?I’d barely grazed him with the tip of my tongue….
Another breeze whistled through the cavern.Droko yanked off his doeskin cloak and threw it around my shoulders.I did my best not to preen in Gargle’s smug face, truly I did.But that simple act of kindness touched me in a place I thought I’d walled off long ago.
To the peddler, Droko said, “Give the slave some proper clothing—at a fair price.Don’t waste our time haggling.”
A smile lit Silver’s eyes.“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
There was a handcart behind him piled with the sorts of items all peddlers use to entice the attention of jaded buyers: colorful baubles, bits of carved shell and bone.But he’d also brought wares that an orc might find useful, like flasks, leatherwork, whetstones, and tools.Droko strode past him and pawed impatiently through his wares.He must not have found anything to his liking.With a grunt, he dropped a waterskin back into the cart, turned on his heel, and said to Gargle, “Don’t disturb me unless the chieftain’s here—or you’ve found the crypt.”
I might not have the nose of an orc, but when I settled Droko’s cloak more firmly around me, I could definitely smell something beyond just the fabric lining.Earthy, like turned soil and moss.Who ever thought orcs would smell so good?
Droko was an enigma, no two ways about it.When he was bossing folks around—his slaves, his guard, pretty much anyone but the chieftain—he barked out orders with the confidence of a flesh-peddler.But ask him an esoteric question, and he either froze up or shrugged it right off.
Fascinating.
“Well, then,” Silver said briskly, dusting his hands together.“As I won’t be permitted the indulgence of haggling, my visit will be brief.If there’s anything you gentlemen should require….”
A few of the guardsmen poked through the wares, one replacing his tinderbox, another upgrading his belt buckle.And while Silver did keep an eye on them, he lavished the majority of his dubious attention on me.
“Does the slave have a name?”he asked teasingly.
He annoyed me already.“It’s Archie.”
“Ah.How fortunate forArchiethat I cater to such a wide range of clientele…and that I’d heard there was a human here who might need a thing or two.Otherwise everything in today’s selection would be orc-sized.Which would certainly present a challenge.”His eyes twinkled in amusement.“As they’re so very…big.”
I quelled an eye-roll.I’ve been acquainted with plenty of guys like Silver.Always taunting, smirking, hinting that they know you better than you know yourself.Never mind that I’d so recently faced down the biggest dick I’d ever encountered—and I’ve encountered alotof dick.There was no way he could actually know what I’d done last night.
At least, I hoped not.For both Droko’s sake, and mine.
Silver rummaged through his handcart and came up with a shirt.It was a pale sea foam green that stood out amid the dull browns and grays of the handcart.The fabric was a fine weave, though it was somewhat thin around the elbows, and the buttons were tarnished.“This belonged to a pirate captain, who snuck it out of the royal palace in Esterhama before his ship was sunk by a rival fleet.It’s been all around the world, even to distant islands that very few ever get to see.”He paused and looked me up and down.“You know, I have the strangest feeling that this shirt is just the thing for you.”
I crossed my arms.“It’s huge.I’d drown in it.”
“Ah.”Silver’s lips curved in a sly smile.“But that’s what these lacings are for.”He uncrossed my arms, divested me of my cloak, and tugged it over my head in a fluid motion as he swung around behind me.When he grabbed up the laces and cinched them tight, the shirt molded itself to me like a second skin.
“There.”He stepped back to assess his handiwork.“Very flattering, indeed.”His grin broadened.“Greenseems to suit you.”
