For a moment, no one spoke.
“The gaesh,” the smallest figure demanded.
I startled at the voice, so distorted it didn’t seem real. That voice was the harsh rasp of glacial ice breaking apart mountains, the tossing of waves against sharp rocks.
All things considered, that voice was a bad sign.
Dethic swallowed. “Yes, of course. But … the house rules. You understand. Payment in full before transfer of goods.”
“Yes, I’d like to see this,” Relos Var said as he walked up to the gathering. “I find it unlikely they can pay in full.”
The figure on the left side (the tall one) reached inside its cloak. It removed a necklace from a black velvet pouch and held it up with two fingers. The value of the gold chain paled in comparison to the twelve gems attached. Each diamond was the size of a fingertip, pear-shaped and midnight blue with a flaring white star in the center.
I felt even more lightheaded. A necklace of star tears. How many such gems even existed? Twelve star tear diamonds? Of equal size and coloring?
Dethic was stunned. “Star tears! Gods. Those are priceless.”*
“So is the boy,” the harsh voice snapped.
“You broke the auction record.” Dethic was giddy thinking of his percentage.
Lord Var said, “Make sure it isn’t counterfeit.”
At this interruption, the figure looked sharply at Lord Var, before it reached up and flipped back the hood from its face.
I should have known from the height: he was vané.
Before this, I had seen damn few vané, all of them flower-colored Kirpis. He was different, resembling a vané who had played in too many fires. His skin was a field of dark ashes, his long hair matte black, his eyes shadowy emeralds. He possessed all the prettiness of the vané race, but was a creature of angles and sharpness. His beauty was that of the razor and not the flower.
I couldn’t guess his age. For all I knew, he’d witnessed the founding of the Quuros Empire. He only looked a few years older than me, but that meant nothing. The vané are an ageless race.
My Quuros ancestors probably needed no more reason than that to hate them, to push the Kirpis vané out of lands we claimed as our own. Confronted by Emperor Kandor’s invading armies, the Kirpis vané had folded, fled their forest homes, and watched in horror as Kirpis became yet another Quuros dominion.
Then again, this was not a Kirpis vané.
To the south of Quur lie the other vané kingdom, the Manol. The Manol vané—dark jewels in contrast to Kirpis’s bright flowers—had not been so easily conquered. Quur’s unstoppable expansion had come to an abrupt and unexpected halt with Emperor Kandor’s death, by Manol vané hands. The fabled Quuros sword Urthaenriel—better known as “Godslayer”—ended up lost somewhere on a jungle floor, along with a generation of Quuros men. Quur would conquer two more dominions through later Emperors, but it never recovered its momentum.
The Manol vané went right on ignoring us after that; we were no threat to them.
“The star tears are real, Relos Var. But you don’t think I’m stupid enough to let you handle them, do you?” The Manol vané raised one eyebrow.
A faint smile played across the wizard’s lips. “One can always hope.”
“You. You check the necklace.” The Manol vané man thrust the necklace and its bag at me.
Dethic looked perplexed. “But sir…”
“It’s all right,” I murmured, not taking my eyes from the black-skinned vané. “I have experience appraising gems.”
I was going to lie about the necklace. I was Quuros; he was Manol vané. Whatever he wanted with me couldn’t be good. The fact that he was paying for me with a necklace of star tear diamonds wasn’t just excessive, it was creepy. I’d heard about that necklace my whole life. To me, those diamonds were as infamous as the sword Urthaenriel or the Crown and Scepter of Quur.
Suddenly, I knew which side to root for: this Relos Var fellow seemed very much the lesser evil. I held the diamond necklace up with shaking fingers, moving the stones back and forth so they caught the light.
“You know your gems? Excellent.” Dethic’s expression turned to a thoughtful frown. “No lying now. Tell me true. Are those star tears?”
I repressed a sigh. It all might have ended right there. I would have lied and told him the stones were fake, taken my chances with Relos Var. But Dethic held my gaesh, held a piece of my soul trapped in the metal charm in his hands. That only meant I had to obey his spoken commands. Like most gaeshed slaves, I followed a slew of orders that were perpetually in effect; I was forbidden to escape, kill my owner, or disobey commands from my owner (although that last seemed redundant). I wasn’t under any obligation to anticipate my owner’s needs or look out for their interests. Loopholes could be exploited.
This whole sordid tale would have crashed to an early end if I hadn’t been ordered to tell the truth.
I looked at the diamonds again. They were flawless, perfect, cut into refracting shapes by ancient, skilled hands. It was as if you stared at a real star, captured and trapped in diamond.
I opened the velvet bag. Everyone heard the necklace hitting the bottom with a clink of chain. No one noticed the copper bangles no longer hung around my wrists.
I am very good at hiding things.
“They’re real.” I handed the bag to Dethic. I scratched at the nape of my neck as far as the shackles allowed. I used that motion to hook the stolen jewels to my own necklace, hiding the mass under my hair.
There. As long as Dethic didn’t discover my deception, I’d just been sold to the Brotherhood for the cost of a few copper bracelets.
It’s not that I don’t think my soul is worth more, but I was damned if I wouldn’t make metal off my own sale.
Lord Var addressed my new owners. “Members of the Brotherhood, we have always had good relations. Don’t jeopardize our friendship over one slave.”
The vané was expressionless as he replied, “You have nothing we want.” He said to Dethic, “You’ve been paid. Hand over the gaesh.”
“Don’t give him the gaesh,” Relos Var ordered.
Dethic hesitated.
The Manol vané said, “This is no longer your concern.”
“I want the young man,” Relos Var said.
The vané sneered. “Perhaps you should send courtship gifts first.”
The air simmered between the two men. I wondered if the Black Brotherhood had bought me for no other reason than to keep me out of Relos Var’s hands. That option seemed likely unless they knew who I really was, knew about the Stone of Shackles around my neck.
Unless … That “unless” was all too plausible. My stomach knotted. The last thing I needed was to be the middle of a power play. Gods, more politics. I was sick to death of politics. If only I could leave. I didn’t dare use the word “escape,” even in the quiet of my thoughts. The gaesh would tear me apart for thinking about escape.
Var said, “Do you have any idea with whom you speak?”
The vané smiled. “I used your name, didn’t I?”