Jack looked at Madelaine, who met his gaze. Together, they looked over their shoulders to see who’d spoken.
A figure stood in the doorway of The Burnt Saint Exchange. Tall. Taller than Jack by several inches. Broad-shoulders rested beneath thick, layered robes the color of storm ash. The hood was deep, casting the face in shadow, but beneath it was a smooth black mask with no visible mouth and narrow mirrored slits where the eyes should have been.
A faceless giant offering to pay for their fuel was certainly suspect, but Jack figured beggars couldn’t be choosers. They needed fuel right now and they didn’t have time to take up a new occupation to earn station weight.
The dark figure carried no obvious weapon, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. Jack and Madelaine shared another fraught look. Madelaine shrugged as if to say, “Let’s listen and see what this is about.” Jack nodded his agreement. Great minds thinking alike.
The broker’s expression had also changed when the stranger spoke. She didn’t seem fearful, not exactly. But definitely cautious.
“Veyre,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around here in quite a while.”
The masked stranger didn’t remark on his long absence. Instead, he moved forward, robes whispering over the scarred floor. “Three standard bauxite cubes?”
The broker folded her arms. “Yes. That is their request.”
“It is now mine. For them.”
Jack leaned toward Madelaine and whispered, “Do we know the terrifying giant mystery robed curtain person?”
“No. We do not.”
“Do we like him?”
Madelaine lifted one shoulder. “No idea.”
“Should we run?”
She shook her head. “Not without the fuel.”
“Right. Good point.”
The figure called Veyre placed one gloved hand on the counter. Between two fingers appeared a stack of thin silver wafers etched with red marks. The broker stared at them.
“That is too much,” she said.
“The extra is for speed,” Veyre replied. “And silence.”
The broker’s eyes flicked to Jack and Madelaine. “They must be very important.”
“They are very late.” Veyre didn’t turn to them, but Jack felt his regard all the same.
Madelaine stiffened. Jack straightened up without conscious effort.
The masked stranger obviously knew something about their errand.
That was not comforting.
The broker hesitated, then swept the silver wafers off the counter and turned to the secured barrier. With a palm scan and two keys from her necklace, she opened the fuel vault. Three bauxite cubes emerged in a hovering cargo sling, each one dense, blue-veined, and beautiful in the way only desperately needed fuel could be beautiful. Not much bigger than a basketball, he knew they were far heavier. And he’d never seen anything so lovely.
Madelaine stepped forward, next to Veyre. “Why are you helping us?”
Veyre turned his masked face toward her.
For one impossible second, the lights overhead flickered.
“Because the road ahead closes for those who arrive empty.”
Jack looked at Madelaine. “Is that a Paladin thing?”
