out NO VACANCY.
The merchant cracked the door as far as the chain would allow and eyed Toler through the opening. “What is it now?”
“I’ve been thinking things over, and I’ve changed my mind about our little secret.”
“Have you?” Jakob sounded uninterested. He closed the door, and Toler heard the latch snick from its slide. The merchant opened it wide and beckoned him in, closing it behind him.
“I’ve been mulling it over ever since that night, and I figure there’s no reason to get Vantanible involved in this at all,” Toler said, pacing the floor. The room smelled like smoke and mildew, and there were yellow stains on the ceiling.
Calistari took a seat on one of the two sagging beds, listening.
“It doesn’t even matter to me anymore whether that ammo is yours or not. What matters is that you and I can both profit from it. If we sell it and get it off our hands, you’ll be free of the contraband and Vantanible won’t be able to pin a thing on you.”
“I’ve told you already. The ammunition is not mine. I don’t know how it got there. But I like your tack. The way I see it, whoever put it in with my things donated it to me. I won’t pass up the opportunity to turn a fortunate coincidence like this into a fortune.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Now, in exchange for letting you off the hook, I’d rather not have any part in the actual sale of the merchandise–I’ll leave that up to you, and I’ll take my cut of the profits in advance. Also, I want Vantanible to receive nothing but good reports about me and the rest of the crew.”
Jakob smiled, a thin-lipped expression that inflated his jowls. “How touching. Even while you’re betraying your friends with one hand, you’re looking out for them with the other. You think clean reports will help when they find out you’ve deceived them?”
Toler smiled back at the merchant. “Since when do you care what my friends think of me?”
“Very well. I suppose your affairs are none of my concern.”
“Glad to hear it. How many dolls are there?”
“I had fifty of them made.”
“That’s a nice whole number–three hundred rounds, if each doll has the same amount sewn in. Now, we can’t have you selling the ammo right in front of everybody. Wait until we get to Lottimer, move the whole shipment at once, and do it off-market. With the ammo removed, you’ll be free to sell the dolls like you were planning. You’ll profit twice.”
“And what happens when we get to Lottimer and Blatcher demands justice?”
“The good report will make him happy enough that he’ll forget about it. The extra earnings will smooth over any hard feelings.”
“You’re sure about this…” Jakob said, skeptical.
Toler kept his gaze steady on the merchant. “I’m sure.”
“Then I trust your word.”
Toler stopped pacing and glanced at the strongbox on the merchant’s bedside table.
“Oh, your advance. I’d almost forgotten.” Jakob pulled a tray from inside, its compartments bearing an assortment of fine metals. There were gold and silver coins from before the Heat, serviceable as currency in most places; rings, watches, bracelets, chains, lockets, earrings, and necklaces; and a variety of smooth gemstones, which were popular among the riverfolk due to their abundance in the stream beds. Calistari also removed the cloth bag that contained several lengths and coils of copper electrical wire. From among his riches he separated out a pile that included several ounces of gold, silver, and copper. “Agreeable?” he asked.
“A little more,” Toler said.
Calistari chewed his lip, but in the end he added a few more pieces to the handful of fine metals and held it out to Toler. “Here you are. A bargain well-struck.”
Toler cupped his hands beneath, but the merchant hesitated.
“You’re sure you want to do it this way?”
“Doing it this way gives everyone what they want. You want to make money. Blatcher wants you off his case so he can stop worrying about his job and his neck. Mays wants to spend his days philosophizing and his nights screwing hookers.”
“And what do you want, Mr. Glaive?”
A breezy grin spread over Toler’s face. “I just want to make everyone happy.”
12
“This is driving me insane,” said Blatcher, rubbing his forehead. “Calistari isn’t even fazed that we know about his stash. It’s like he really didn’t know the bullets were there. He’s gonna make nice with Vantanible, and then he’s gonna squeal on us. I know it. But then you’ve gotta think–if someone planted that ammo like he claims, then he doesn’t know whether somebody’s coming for it. Why isn’t he worried?”
Andover Mays took a swig of beer through one side of his mouth without removing his cigarette from the other. “You’re over-thinking this. Get a hold of yourself. You sound like a scared little bitch right now. He’s lying. Nobody does anything to Calistari’s stuff without Calistari knowing. That dway is meticulous as they come. Don’t think he doesn’t know the wheres and whens of every fart that wafts in and out of his crate. He’s playing us like fiddles–and you’re cracking under the pressure.”
Blatcher scowled at him, his cheek bunching around the knuckles it was resting on.
“You really think he’s lying?” Toler said. “He’s the one who insisted we guard the crate at all times. When would he unload it without us knowing? I think he’s really going to come clean with Vantanible.”
Lodd and Shapperton were on shift guarding Calistari’s crate–and who knew where Ort Raukel was–so the three of them sat drinking in the Riverbed Tavern, the only watering hole in Rills suitable for shepherds. It wasn’t that there weren’t others; it was that they didn’t cater to ‘thugs and ruffians,’ as many of Rills’ proprietors referred to them. Nevermind that Toler and his co-workers were half the reason the town had any good booze to begin with. Riverfolk were like that–something about the calming nature of their streams made them averse to having a good time. That much could be said for the town’s distinct lack of prostitutes, which Andover Mays had been decrying since they arrived.
“It’s that cousin of his, the one in Lottimer,” said Blatcher. “He’ll offload it there–dolls, ammo and all. They’ll sell it across the Gulf or over the Tideguine. It’ll be long gone before we know any better.”
“He’ll still have to answer to Vantanible,” said Mays.
Blatcher frowned. “Unless he manages to sell it under our noses and then sweet-talk the boss when we get to Lottimer.”
“If he tries to pull something like that, then it’s our word against his,” said Toler. “I’d rather it be our word plus a crate-load of ammo, though. I like your theory about the cousin. We need to keep Jakob from palming them off. Vantanible is very clear on the rules. The ledger exists for a reason – he wants to know everything that’s coming and going. He’s never tolerated smugglers, and he won’t make an exception for Jakob.”
Toler looked out over the sleepy town, its torches diminishing one by one along the shoreline as the night deepened. The tavern was built in the middle of what had been the river Awliph in the old days, mounted on tall pylons like a dockhouse. Now, instead of water rushing by underneath, the deck loomed over a dry channel of silt and gravel twenty-five feet below. The roped-in walkway leading to its entrance jutted from the shore, giving you the sensation that you were rising even though it stayed level as the riverbed fell away below you. The tavern was crowded with shepherds tonight, and Toler could feel the platform shift every so often under the weight.
“I hope you’re both right,” said Blatcher. “All this worrying has been giving me the shits.”
Andover Mays ran his hands through grease-sculpted hair and gave Blatcher a disgusted smile. “I thought you smelled worse than usual. You worry too much, my friend.”
“He still thinks Calistari is gonna complain about us,” Toler said to Andover Mays. “That’s why he’s worried.”
“Yeah, and I still haven’t figured out why you
aren’t,” Blatcher said.
“I never worry. I only do things that are fun or necessary, and worrying is neither.”
“Wise words from the dway who got us into this mess to start with.”
Toler shrugged. “Worry if you like. Let it paralyze you. That’ll be the thing that keeps you from conquering what you’re so worried about.”
“You can’t conquer a merchant, like he’s a castle or something,” Blatcher said.
“You’re wrong. You can conquer anything that has a weakness.”
“You said the deal was his weakness. You said the deal would work. It didn’t.”
“We don’t know that yet. You’re jumping to conclusions. You’re trying to predict what he’s going to do.”
“Calistari is a shyster. He does it for a living, for coff’s sake. He’ll find a way to screw us and come out on top.”
Toler sighed. Blatcher does look like crap, he thought. I shouldn’t say anything, but I guess it couldn’t hurt to tell them now. “I’ve got something I need to tell you. But before I say anything, I want you to know that I did this for you, and I’m only telling you now because you’re stressed.”
“Spit it out, Glaive. I know something’s brewing in that scruffy dome of yours.”
“Okay. What do you know about Jakob Calistari?”
“He’s a greedy cocksucker.”
Andover Mays chuckled mid-drag, coughing smoke like a faulty steam engine.
“A fair appraisal,” said Toler. “I got to thinking maybe we made him the wrong deal. So I thought it was time we struck him a new one. I had the same feeling you did–like he was going to wait until the last possible minute and then screw us over. So I talked to him.”
“What’s going on?” Blatcher said, distracted. He was looking out toward the village.
Only a few torches were burning now, but the darkness had given way to a strange glow. Where the black of night should have been, there was instead a feeble green cast that colored every structure and patch of land Toler could see. Other shepherds were gathering around the edges of the platform, where a railing bordered windowless openings to the outside. Toler strode to the closest railing, leaning out for a glimpse of the night sky.
The auroras were exquisite–blazing curtains of irradiation dancing across the atmosphere. Toler had always thought it strange that something so beautiful could foreshadow an event so terrible. Their appearance meant Infernal was having another temper tantrum. The starwinds varied in magnitude, but aurorae as bright as these meant the oncoming storm was going to be a bad one.
“Starwinds,” he said when he had returned to the table. “The next few days are going to be rough.”
Neither Blatcher nor Mays responded, but the looks on their faces were enough to show their apprehension.
“So like I said, I talked to him. Sorry I didn’t let you both know first, but I wasn’t sure how it would go. Turns out I did get us a better deal after all. The new deal is this: instead of making him go to Vantanible, I told him he could sell the ammo.”
Blatcher bristled. “You coffing dickhead. What in Infernal’s name were you thinking? If you think for one second I’m gonna let that weasel get off clean...”
Toler held up two hands. “Just… listen.”
“Idiot. Moron.” Blatcher leaned back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his face with two hands.
Andover Mays was in a similar state. “I don’t know who you think you are, boy. Throwing your weight around like some grifter, like you’re some mastermind who’s got it all figured out.”
Toler raised his voice. “Will you just hold on and let me explain?”
“You wanna explain how we’re not all gonna wake up dead when we get to Lottimer? Fine, go right ahead.”
“Vantanible will never find out,” Toler said.
“That’s an easier risk for you to take than for us,” said Blatcher. “Your family’s rich. You