“Lookie what the velvet boy dropped!”
“Give that back, Rat!”
“NO FIGHTING.”
One of Faris’s boys interposed himself between Rook and Faris, who laughed and opened the small pouch. Rook’s key ring spilled out, along with an uncut green gemstone wrapped in silver.
“Ooo … look what we have here, a pretty necklace. Saving this for your next boyfriend?” Faris taunted as he held the green stone above his head.
Rook kicked Faris’s thug in the groin and pushed him out of the way. Another teenage boy pulled a wicked club from under his sallí cloak and moved in to take the first one’s place.
Butterbelly decided he’d had enough.
“Arrgh!!” The boy with the club screamed as a crossbow bolt sank into his arm.
Everyone stopped what they were doing.
“Bertok’s balls!” Faris screamed at Butterbelly. “You shot him.”
“I SAID NO FIGHTING!” Butterbelly shouted again, waving the crossbow above his head like a flag.
Faris glanced over at Rook. “He started it.”
“I was here watching, you addle-brained fool of a cutthroat. Stealing from Shadowdancers? Are you out of your MIND?”
“I was joking…”
“My arm! My arm!” The boy was moaning on the floor.
“Oh, quit your whining,” Butterbelly scolded. “I ain’t hit nothing important. Now go get yourself to a blue house for healing, before you have to explain how you was injured.”
Faris growled and stabbed a finger at Rook’s chest, as if it was something much more lethal. “You better watch your back, Rook. I’ve made friends. Important friends. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done.”
“Likewise, Weasel,” Rook sneered. He beckoned toward Faris with two fingers. “Scabbard isn’t as nice as the City Guard. He won’t just take your hand for stealing from the Shadows. Those are mine.”
The tough growled and threw the stone and key ring at the desk. Faris hurled the leather pouch to the floor and stomped on it as he exited with his friends.
Butterbelly didn’t say a word. He reloaded the crossbow and placed it under his desk again. Then he noticed the necklace. He reached for the stone with trembling fingers, hardly daring to breathe, not believing his good fortune.
“Laaka in the sea, Rook—where did you get this?” He held up the green stone and let it sparkle and glimmer in the light.
Rook picked up his belt pouch and recovered his key ring. “You know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Wish the Rat hadn’t seen it. Looks valuable.”
Butterbelly nodded. “Very valuable.”
The teenager chewed on his lower lip. “Is it something you can move?”
Butterbelly grinned. “Can I move it? Oh, can I ever! This, my boy, THIS, is a tsali stone, a special magical vané gem. Only thing worth more’d be if you came back with a star tear, but nobody’s got enough metal in their vaults to buy one if ya did.”
“Yeah? Raven owned a whole necklace of star tears once.”
Butterbelly snorted. “You know better than to listen to Raven’s god-king tales. Raven will have you thinking she’s the long-lost Queen of Kirpis if you give her a chance.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, this is better than a star tear. This is something I can sell.”
“It’s not wrapped in silver. I checked for that,” Rook admitted. “I don’t recognize that metal.”
“Platinum, I’d wager,” Butterbelly said. “You don’t see it much down here. It takes a Red Man to make a fire hot enough to melt the ore. Just like drussian. Expensive stuff, and that’s just the findings—the stone though—”
“It’s not emerald. It’s like the metal—nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Boy, if you came in here and told me you could identify what this stone is, I’d have known for sure it was fake. I’ve always had my suspicion that tsali stones just can’t be found outside vané lands, but I’m not a Key like you. Most folks just assume it must be diamond.* Hard as diamond, anyway.”?
“Diamond? That big?” Rook looked impressed.
“Yes, yes, yes. And there are collectors in the Upper Circle who will not only pay for such a stone, but ain’t gonna question the source.” Butterbelly’s grin faltered for a minute as he realized he was being an idiot. He’d shown the boy how excited he was, shown him that this was no common whore’s bauble. “But they are traceable, distinctive. Each stone’s unique, with its own history. I’d have to be careful.”
“How would you trace it?” The amused smile and raised eyebrow on Rook’s face told Butterbelly he’d ruined his chance to buy the rock for a pittance.
“Well … they say every single one of them stones is magic. Each with their own auras and marks. I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out on your own.”
Rook blinked and seemed to take a step back without moving. “Must have missed that.”
“Anyhow, the vané take objection to us mortals owning their stones, and I sure as hell ain’t going to ask them how they know.” The fat man reached a mental decision. “I’ll give you two thousand for everything. The tsali stone plus the rest.”
Rook seemed to make his own calculations. “I want five thousand … thrones.”
“What? Are you daft?”
“You’ll sell this one to a buyer you’ve already lined up for ten times that.”
“Hmmph. Twenty-five hundred, but only because you’re not going to just blow the money on wine and whores.”
“Three thousand, and I don’t mention this sale to Scabbard.”
Butterbelly chuckled. “You’re learning, you’re learning. All right, we’ve got a deal. I’ll send it through the usual way.” The fence stopped and leaned over toward the boy. “Or … I’ll give you six thousand for the lot if you throw in both of them.”
Rook stared at Butterbelly. “What?”
“Ah, come on, boy. I’ve known you since you were a downy-haired fellow, nothing more than a bit of golden fluff that Raven would parade around like chum for the sharks. You think I wouldn’t notice a little babe like you wearing a vané tsali stone around your throat? I offered to buy it from your Raven. She told me it wasn’t hers to sell. Can you imagine that? Raven passing up the chance to make metal? Well, you’re old enough to make your own decisions now, aincha?”
Rook’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t … it’s not for sale.”
“I see what you’re trying to do for your old man. I’ll give you five thousand for the green diamond, and another five thousand for that blue one wrapped in gold that you’re wearing. That’s enough money to get your father out of here, and be rich besides.”
Rook put his hand to his neck, fingering something under the cloth of his shirt. “Why so much?”
“Them vané stones is rare, and if I’m reading the signs right, that one you’re wearing is old. Fifteen thousand. You won’t get a better offer than that from anyone, anywhere. Come on, some trinket from a momma who ditched you can’t be worth more than getting out of this hellhole, can it?”