Even as he said it, he knew Ort Raukel was beyond hope or help.
The mutant spoke through convulsions, gagging out the words. “I was… only… hoping for... food. Or a little… copper to b-buy it… with. Help me. Please.”
Toler pressed the tip of the rifle’s muzzle against the mutant’s mouth, but the mutant kept his lips clamped tight. He stepped on the mutant’s chest. The lips parted to reveal blood-rimmed teeth and a red throat within. Toler slid the barrel inside. The mutant began to choke.
“If you wanted help, you could’ve asked for it. Now it’s too late. The only help you’ll get from me is help dying. Stop struggling. It won’t take long.”
Panicking, the mutant clawed at Toler’s ankle, trying to free his chest from the pressure. He tried grabbing the gun barrel, but Toler held it in place and set his jaw like a stone slab.
“No? You’d rather suffer through it, then. Alright.” Toler flipped the bolt and expelled the unfired round. It fell into the sand beside the mutant’s head. The mutant was twitching and writhing, his bloodshot eyes pleading for mercy. Toler stood there in the heat of midday, the sweat pouring off him, staring into the mutant’s eyes and watching as the light faded from them.
Minutes passed, and the struggling waned. The mutant grew listless, and finally he stopped moving. When it was over, Toler rode up to fetch Blatcher and Mays, and the caravan went on while they buried Lodd Wallingford and Ort Raukel in shallow ditches.
They left the mutant for the hounds.
14
The starwinds blew over, lifting the shadow of gloom that lay over the beleaguered caravan. Toler could feel everything again, like cool air on his scalp after a haircut. He’d noticed Calistari becoming more anxious the closer they came to their destination, even with the starwinds gone. He wondered how the merchant was feeling about their deal now that Vantanible was only a few horizons away.
The night before their arrival in Lottimer, Calistari approached Toler. The merchant looked ill at ease, as if he were about to vomit or succumb to some other explosive event. “Change of plans, Mr. Glaive.”
“What are you talking about?”
Calistari took hold of Toler’s upper arm and yanked him behind a crate. Up close, Toler could see the sweat residue and the white ointment slime leaching off the merchant’s face. His skin had pinkened to a shade beyond dark coral, the beginnings of a severe burn that his ointment had only delayed. His breathing was heavy, his panic evident. “It’s that good-for-nothing Shapperton. He’s found us out. Said he’s going to tell Vantanible everything.”
“How did he find out?”
Calistari glared. “You told him.”
“I didn’t tell him a thing. I don’t even talk to that old bastard.”
“You talk to Blatcher. Shapperton says Blatcher spilled everything the night after we left Rills, while he was drunk. What’s going on here, boy? I thought you said this was staying between us.”
“I know that’s what I said. You’re right, I couldn’t keep the secret. Blatcher just gets stressed sometimes. I hate seeing him like that, thinking he’s going off the deep end. I told him about the good reports to calm him down–let him know there was no reason to worry. Naturally, he wanted to know the rest.”
“Well, thanks to you, it looks like we all have a reason to worry again. Vantanible will have our hides for this.” Jakob’s rage came through in his loud whisper. The merchant was so angry, he was shaking. Toler couldn’t help but enjoy it.
“Why don’t we have a talk with Shapperton?” Toler suggested. “Let’s see if he can be persuaded to keep his mouth shut.”
“I tried that already. He refused.”
Toler clicked his tongue. “Surely you of all people should know that everyone can be bought. Your price just wasn’t high enough.”
“I won’t be subjected to intimidation by way of bribery,” Jakob said, crossing his arms.
“I don’t see what other option we have. I’ll front some of the hardware myself if I have to. It’s worth it.”
Calistari sighed as though he’d been punctured. “Very well,” he finally said.
“I’ll be right back.” Toler strolled into the flatbed enclosure, an enormous protective circle whose center was spotted with freshly-lit campfires. He found Hyll Shapperton sitting alone, about to begin cooking the dinner in his skillet, a cut of salted eel over a bed of wild rice with sweet sague cactus sauce.
“Mr. Shapperton?”
The old man gave Toler a wary sidelong glance, but he tipped his hat when he saw who it was.
“I’d like to speak with you, if you have a moment.”
“If this hasta do with Mr. Calistari, I already done spoke with him.”
“I’m prepared to make it worth your while.”
Shapperton’s lip curled upward. Toler wasn’t sure if he was smiling or scowling, but the man stood and followed him all the same. Outside the circle, Shapperton put his back to the wall of the crate and kept his arms at his sides.
“Mr. Shapperton, we’ve enjoyed a cordial business relationship for many years,” Calistari said. “One of mutual respect.”
The coachman looked at Toler as if he’d just heard a bad joke.
“We’ve spent a lot of time together up in that seat,” said the merchant, gesturing, “and I know you’re a good, dependable man. I’d hate for anything to happen that would tarnish the rapport we’ve built. I would like the second half of this trip to be smooth and painless, and Mr. Glaive and I would like to offer some... encouragement, to ensure that happens.”
“I done tol’ you I ain’t innerested,” Shapperton said. “Smugglin’ is serious business, and I ain’t gonna pertend I dunno what you been doin’.”
“Listen, Shapperton,” Toler said. “Whatever Mr. Calistari here offered you, I’m willing to double it.”
“No thanks.” Shapperton waved a hand and started to walk away.
Toler caught him by the wrist. “Wait,” he said, but he let go when the old man gave him a questioning look. “Wait, Mr. Shapperton. We’ll quadruple the offer.”
Calistari was wide-eyed. “Y–yes,” he stammered. “All in gold. I have plenty of it.”
Shapperton drew in a breath. It was so long before he exhaled that Toler thought the old man’s heart might’ve given out. Jakob looked as if his own heart was on the verge of doing the same.
The coachman scratched his head. “Lemme see it.”
Calistari was gone so fast Toler had to suppress the urge to theorize about the type of musculature the merchant was hiding under those rolls. He came back with his strongbox in one hand and a small merchant’s scale in the other, knelt, and began to weigh out a sizeable mound of gold coins and jewelry. Toler fished in his pocket for a few lengths of copper wire and whatever gold he had left, adding the items to the pot. Shapperton gave a furtive glance over his shoulder before he began scooping up his treasures and tucking them away into various pockets.
“Secret’s safe with me, fellers,” he said, flashing them a snaggletoothed grin. He bowed out and strutted back to the fire, whistling.
“Now we just have to hope he keeps his word,” Toler said.
“Keeps his–I should hope so! That good-for-nothing just walked off with a third of my profits!”
“Still, you can never be too careful. Know what I mean? If I were you, I’d tell Vantanible about the ammo anyway. He’s more likely to be lenient if you tell him the truth. Infernal forbid he finds out some other way. There’s no telling what he’ll do.” Toler didn’t know how it was possible to determine what was going on under those jowls, but he could’ve sworn he saw the merchant’s jaw tighten.
“I won’t give that good-for-nothing Shapperton the satisfaction. I’ve always known he was crooked. I’ll go to Mr. Vantanible myself as soon as we get there, and I’ll do it before the old man can say a word; he’ll have no leg to stand on.”
“That would be the smart thing to do,” Toler agreed.
15
When they
crested the final rise, Toler could see the vast city of Lottimer spread out across the lowlands before him. Gulls flew in lazy circles over everything from humble domiciles to soaring towers, their territory stretching from the port bordering the Horned Gulf in the east to the sands of the open Tideguine to the south. The offshore breezes carried the scent of death and low tide, but the ocean air was cool and refreshing, which made up for the smell.
Nichel Vantanible himself was there to greet them, his smile broad as he waved the caravan through. He pulled his horse alongside Toler’s and shook his hand.
“Enjoying your stay so far?” Toler asked.
“Trading has been good,” Vantanible said. “We’ll have lots to bring home with us. I trust the first half of the route has gone well?”
“Not as well as I hoped,” Toler said, giving him a somber smile. “We lost some good men along the way.”
“I’m glad you weren’t one of them,” Vantanible said. “Lenn has been making quite a fuss over you.”
Toler gulped. “Has she?”
“She’s very fond of you, Toler. She’s convinced me that you’re a good man.”
“I try,” Toler said, unsure whether that was true.
“Prove her right.”
It was all Vantanible needed to say. Toler knew he was being given a chance–but only one. He decided then and there that he’d give up smuggling and go straight. Just as soon as this this job was done.
Calistari gave a frantic wave from the coachman’s seat, calling out as his flatbed passed. “Mr. Vantanible, I must speak with you at once.”
Hyll Shapperton sat beside Jakob, calm and silent. When Toler’s eyes met his, he gave the shepherd a warm nod. There was no smile on the old coachman’s face, but his eyes said enough.
16
“Jakob, you didn’t register any ammunition,” said Nichel Vantanible, flipping through the ledger. “Bullets embedded in the heads of your toys, you say?”
“The dolls, sir, yes. The dolls. Come and see for yourself.” Calistari tore open the crate door and snatched up one of the dolls. Its head wobbled in place, light and fluffy. He turned it over in his hands. The stitch in the back of its head was split open, the stuffing peeking through the brown burlap like a cloud trapped between two mountains. Jakob dug his fingers inside and ripped out the stuffing. Confused, he picked up another doll and spun it around. He pressed the head flat, feeling for hard objects inside. When he found none, his face took on a horrified look. He tossed the doll aside, snatching up a third, then a fourth, turning each around and yanking out its insides. He whirled to face Nichel Vantanible, his face white.
“I… I don’t understand… There’s stuffing in all of them. Nothing but stuffing.”
“You’ve just admitted to transporting smuggled goods, yet now those goods are nowhere to be found? Explain yourself, Jakob.”
“I… the shepherds. They found it. They know.” Calistari waved a chubby finger at Toler.
Toler shrugged. “I don’t know why he thinks we had anything to do with it.”
Calistari was past furious. “Liar. We made a deal.”
“Whoever you made a deal with, it’s pretty clear you’ve already done away with the evidence,” Toler said.
“You’re lying. They were here. You saw them as well as I did.”
“Is this true?” Vantanible asked.
“We found the bullets in his crate, yeah,” said Blatcher. “It was a routine search. I told him to turn himself in when we got here. He promised he wouldn’t sell them, so it looks like he just found a way to get rid of them while we weren’t looking. That lock is his, and he didn’t give me a key, so no besides him has been in that crate since we found the ammo.”
Toler found Vantanible studying him. The man’s face took on a questioning glimmer. Toler responded with a shrug.
“Jakob,” Vantanible said, nodding to his bodyguards. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
“He–he… he said…”