Sea of Ghosts - Alan Campbell [49]
Hana looked up at him with bright eyes. She gave him a huge smile, then stood up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you from both of us.’
Granger looked at his feet. He nodded awkwardly. ‘Your old clothes were pretty rotten,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want you both getting fleas.’
Creedy was shaking him. ‘Colonel, I found a buyer.’
Granger blinked and raised his hands against harsh sunlight. ‘What time is it?’
‘Afternoon.’
‘What day?’
‘I dunno. Today.’
‘Gods, man, do you never go to bed?’
‘Not when there’s money to be made,’ Creedy replied. ‘I found us a buyer for the olea. A collector, here in Ethugra.’
Granger sat up in his cot and stretched his neck. The roof of his garret wavered with copper-coloured reflections. He remembered putting Ianthe and Hana in their cell, but not much after that. He must have been exhausted. ‘The jellyfish? I thought Maskelyne was the only collector in Ethugra.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Creedy replied. ‘But then I started asking around, sly like, so nobody—’
‘How much did you get for it?’
Creedy frowned. ‘I said I’ve found us a buyer. I didn’t say I’d sold the bloody thing. He wants to meet you.’
‘Me?’
‘The brains of the operation.’
Granger got up. ‘What do I know about jellyfish?’
‘About as much as me,’ Creedy said. ‘But you’re prettier than me, and the buyer’s some titled Evensraum merchant. All airs and graces. Wipes his arse with squares of silk. I don’t know if I could speak to him without murdering him.’
Granger frowned. What was an Evensraumer was doing in Ethugra? Unless . . .
‘He’s a prisoner?’
Creedy nodded. ‘A rich prisoner. Holed up in one of the Imperial jails on Averley. Special privileges and all that. The bastard used to own more land than Hu. He’s got gilders coming out of his pores.’
Granger knew the type. Wealth bought luxury and status even in Ethugran prisons, even if it couldn’t always purchase freedom. There were captives in this city who ate better than their jailers did. They were always pre-assigned to Imperial jails, thus avoiding the allocation system used for regular inmates. Emperor Hu made a good profit from such prisons, although it was rumoured that Maskelyne’s men actually ran them.
Maskelyne again, Granger thought miserably. Why does it always come back to him?
‘What is it?’ Creedy said.
‘Nothing.’ Granger sighed. Maybe he was just being paranoid. ‘When can I meet him?’
‘Whenever you like. He ain’t going anywhere.’
‘Now?’
The other man shrugged. ‘The olea’s in the boat. I’ll drop you off there.’
Shortly afterwards he found himself hunched beside Creedy in his launch as it thundered along. He’d left fresh water and soap for Hana and Ianthe. Creedy gunned the engines without regard for other canal traffic, pushing them quickly through Francialle and into Averley Plaza. They discussed money. How much should Granger ask for the olea? Creedy waved his arms and talked about thousands, but Granger wasn’t convinced. If he got more than eight hundred, he’d be happy. The sun was still above the rooftops when they reached the marketplace embankment, bathing the Imperial jails and administration buildings in soft, golden light. Creedy wrenched the tiller to port and cut the engines, expertly berthing the metal vessel between a fishing barque and a clutch of coracles. Once he’d tied up, he dug out a bulky whaleskin parcel from a hidden compartment under the port strakes and beckoned Granger up the stone steps to the embankment.
The market had finished hours ago. Only a few beer sellers stayed open, serving those stallholders who had remained after their morning’s work. Groups of Asakchi and Valcinder merchants lounged against the stony figures of the Drowned, drinking and talking, while a group of children raced around the empty stalls, shrieking with delight at some game. Creedy led Granger to one of the many huge brass doors lining the westernmost façade and then banged on it repeatedly. A great booming sound echoed within.
‘Ask for Truan,’ Creedy said, handing Granger the wrapped amphora. ‘I’ll be