The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [78]
Jubair nodded, appeased. His gaze fell on Aazen's instrument. "I didn't know you played," he said, eyeing Aazen curiously.
"Mind the other wire on your way out," Aazen replied, putting the case away in the bottom drawer of the bureau.
Jubair looked stricken. "The other wire?"
"I set it at neck level. Most people who enter my rooms uninvited end up with an extra air hole in their throats," Aazen told him. "Fortunately, you're smaller than most. Don't find me here again, Jubair," he said over the wizard's outraged sputtering. "This is my private space, away from my father, away from the Cowled Wizards, and away from the Shadow Thieves."
Still fuming, Jubair maneuvered his body carefully across the threshold in a half-crouch. "Do you truly believe any place is private from Daen?" he scoffed, his eyes alight with taunting amusement. "The Shadow Thieves are your family now, except they're larger, more dangerous, and more vindictive than most. If you didn't want that, you shouldn't have signed on alongside your fathet."
I had no choice, Aazen thought. He remembered the Hatper down in the Delve, the woman he'd allowed to bleed to death because the Shadow Thieves-his father-demanded it.
He thought of Kail. He knew his friend had survived the battle with the broken magic item. He hadn't been worried about Kail's safety, but he regretted the incident had to happen in Morel's house. It would have been better if he had not allowed Kali to see him. His friend surely suspected his involvement in the murder. More than that, if Kail decided to pursue the matter, he could pick up the trail far easier than the Gem Guard or the Cowls. If he suspected the trail might lead to Balram, Kail would follow it to the Abyss and back. No, the Cowled Wizards didn't concern Aazen. Kali was the threat to fear.
Aazen wondered if he should mention to his father just whose roof Varan's broken toy had ended up under. Doubtless he would find the irony upsetting. No. Balram would find out soon enough. Then he would tell Aazen what to do about it. Aazen had no doubt that if it became necessary, his father would make him deal with Kali and his allies personally.
I have no choice, he repeated, speaking to Kail in his mind. He reached again for his music.
The Silver Market was held, appropriately enough, in the Silver Ward in the Jade District; it was also called Selune's Market, for it took place at night during the warmer months. The market was the Jade District's answer to the Jewelers' Quarter, where the largest concentration of jewelry in Keczulla was made. But Selune's Market was fast gaining a reputation as the place for up-and-coming merchants. Whether it was jewelry, loose gems, or elaborate, jewel-bedecked clothing one wished for, the Silver Market was the place to spot new talent and possible future competition.
Dantane rounded a corner, weaving between two comely lasses in low-cut gowns who offered him trays of sugared peaches.
Cooking vendors had set up stalls along the ends of the avenues, so that you couldn't cross one street onto another without being intoxicated by the scents of fresh fruit and spices.
Dantane crossed a back alley and froze as a group of gray shadows detached themselves from the buildings. Wraiths, he thought in disgust. He had no time for this.
Keczulla knew its share of poverty. The wealthiet merchant families contributed generously to providing homes for orphaned children, as a way of showing off their vast fortunes, but some youths could not be tamed by civilization. These half-feral children, the Wraiths, roamed the night markets in packs, stealing food and purses hugely by surrounding easy marks and overwhelming them with sheer numbers, plucking, biting, and scratching until the unfortunate soul gave up and surrendered any belongings of worth.
Theit bodies were emaciated, smeared in mud to protect them from the sun. They shaved their heads with crude knives to keep away lice. Sometimes their appearance alone was enough to have folk fumbling at their purse strings.