“Even for this?” I took out my pouch of jens from the palace and loosened the opening just enough for the merchant to see what was inside.
His eyes widened. “That’s enough to buy twenty swaths of leather, boy.”
“Oh, would you prefer to sell now?”
He stared at my pouch greedily. “Not a chance.”
Good. I’ll get a free swath of leather. And prove to Edan I’m a better haggler than he is. “You start.”
While he made his move, I studied my side of the board. Chess was a battle of two armies; capturing the opponent’s general meant victory. Finlei had been a master, and the only way to beat him was to make him think he was winning until the very end—when he couldn’t breach the defenses I’d constructed around my general.
The strategy worked. It was a close game, but I beat the merchant tidily. Trying not to swagger with pride, I rolled my newly acquired swath of leather under my arm and went to find Edan.
The drinking house had grown even more crowded. Everywhere, men shouted “More food! More drink!” at the serving boys, who juggled gourds of wine and bowls of steaming noodles, and men who were already drunk shouted too, reciting bad poetry louder than it ought to have been heard. But as I threaded through the chaos, a familiar laugh cut through the din of several men gambling behind a bamboo screen.
My heart jumped wildly in my chest.Norbu?
A straw hat obscured his hair, and he wore a robe far coarser than the ones he’d donned in the palace, but I would recognize that silhouette—and that laugh—anywhere.
His heavy-lidded gaze fixed upon me, and I glanced away quickly, but not fast enough. Norbu caught me staring. His eyes lifted slightly, and his mouth curled into a sneer, one that raised goose bumps on my arms.
He whispered something to the Balardans next to him before slipping out of the gambling room. My heart hammering, I tried to follow. But by the time I’d squeezed through the crowd, Norbu had vanished.
And I had found Edan—or rather, heard him. He was in the back, his long legs splayed across the carpet, laughing and drinking and playing cards with the silk merchants. I stalked toward him, but Edan pretended not to see me.
“Have you heard?” one of the merchants was saying to him. “Emperor Khanujin’s taken ill. No one’s seen him for days. He won’t leave his room.”
As usual, my companion wore an inscrutable smile—either it meant nothing, or he knew something no one else did. “Well,” he said, ignoring me, “we must hope His Majesty’s health improves before he leaves for the Autumn Palace.”
“Yes,” the merchant said solemnly. “He was always sickly as a child, I remember. Word had it his father was glad Prince Khanujin was the second in line. Never thought the boy would make it to his adult years. I pray he marries Lady Sarnai quickly and produces an heir.”
Edan replied, “Yes, a prayer for His Majesty’s health.”
The silk merchant gave Edan a hug. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Gallan. Try not to overpay next time.”
“Overpay?” I echoed as soon as Edan joined me. He pushed through the rear door, heading to a stall to pick up his purchase.
“The man doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he replied. “I got all this for two hundred jens. Compliments of my friends at the card table.”
I surveyed his prize: ten yards of wild silk. “Did you cheat?”
“An enchanter never reveals his secrets,” Edan replied mysteriously.
“I’d say someone pulled the wool over your eyes.” I crossed my arms. “I could’ve gotten all this for fifty in Port Kamalan. I wish you’d letmehandle the silk merchants.”
His smirk fell apart. Rather sulkily, he asked, “How much didyoupay?”
My turn to smirk. I held out my merchandise. “All the leather we need. Finest quality. Free.”
“Free?”
“I won at chess. Fair and square.”
“Remind me not to underestimate you.” Edan grinned, looking a little proud.
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I didn’t grin back. I glanced around, making sure we were alone, then asked, “Who is Gallan?”
“One of my many names,” Edan said dismissively. “Don’t call me Edan when we’re away from the palace.”
