“You busy?”
“Not especially. Just studying Carsuak.”
“Why?”
“So that I know how to speak it.”
“Why?”
“To communicate with other people.”
“Why?”
“Do you need something?” she asked him, cutting off the inane line of questioning.
He nodded, then asked, “Can I come in?”
She stepped aside and the short man waddled in, twisting his eyestalks in every direction to absorb the room.
“Wow,” he muttered. “Your room is as messy as mine. Which is a bad thing.”
She rolled her eyes but had no rebuttal. Closing the door, she asked him, “What do you need?” She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew there were still a few hours until his performance.
Puk pulled the chair out farther from her desk and hoisted himself up onto it. His stubby legs dangled a few inches from the ground.
“I’ve got a business proposition for you,” he said. His mouth stretched to a toothy grin.
Her interest was piqued. “What kind of proposition?” Given his defeatist attitude over the course of the week, she was surprised he had any sort of financial prospects at all beyond what her father was paying him.
“The kind of proposition that’ll net us each five thousand crescents. Does that sound good?”
Her heart leapt.
Five thousand was a big number. Big enough to get her to Atlua. Hell, it was big enough to get her all the way to Vareda if she felt so inclined. The possibilities for her life seemed endless with that kind of money.
But how was this broke, alcoholic lounge singer kicking his feet in front of her planning to get his hands on money like that?
“That’s a lot of crescents,” she said with some apprehension.
“It is.”
“Honestly, it sounds like an illegal amount of crescents.”
The smile on his face curled into a grimace. His stalks curved backward then shot straight back up. “Well, it’s probably not strictly legal, but it’s probably not especially illegal, either.”
Her heart sank.
And yet…it was a lot of money. She could accomplish a lot with it. Finally kick things off in her life.
“What is it?” she asked, betraying the sinking feeling in her gut.
The qarm’s rapscallion grin returned. “Have you ever heard of Myrisih?”
She nodded, though it only felt like a half-truth. Being a merchant, she had heard plenty of stories about a black market city in the gulf called Myrisih. Rumors claimed that it was hidden somewhere in the Loranos Gulf, a city-sized marketplace solely for trading illegal goods, exotic animals, hiring assassins, and other illicit activities. Some stated that there were officials who knew where to find the city, but due to it being in the gulf, it was in nobody’s jurisdiction so it was left alone. It all sounded too absurd to be believable.
“Well, there’s a job in Myrisih that I think you and I would be perfect for.”
The statement was outrageous.
“Why would you think I’m perfect for some illegal, shady job? And how are you even sure Myrisih is real?”
Puk blinked. His expression read as if her question was asinine.
“I’ve been to Myrisih,” he said. “So I’m pretty sure it’s real.”
It was her turn to blink incredulously. “How in the world have you been to Myrisih?”
“I’m not friends with good people!” he barked. “Look, you’re missing the point. The point is I heard about a job in Myrisih and it sounds like an easy one. So easy, it’s putting off the bigger crews ’cause the pay isn’t big enough for ’em all to split—but I’d bet some smaller groups will be sniffin’ around, so we probably wanna get there quick as we can.”
Kali cocked an eyebrow, still taken aback by the whole thing. Puk was not the most convincing orator.
“How’d you happen to hear about it?”
He grew visibly uncomfortable at the question and shifted in his seat. “Like I said, I’m not friends with good people.”
That answer would have to suffice. “Fine. So what’s the job, then?”
Once again, he seemed more at ease. He explained, “Apparently there’s some book that somebody in Myrisih wants to get their hands on, and they’re willing to pay a shitload for it.”
“What book is it? My sister has a ton of bookshelves in her room, all totally filled.”
Puk laughed, a wet, throaty sound, and said, “I don’t know what book it is, but I’d wager this buyer isn’t shellin’ out ten thousand crescents for something he could find in the local marketplace.”
“Fair enough,” she said, feeling foolish for having even suggested it. Then, “What would be your plan, then? Assuming I agree to this?”
“Simple. We gotta get to Myrisih as fast as we can to accept the job. I dunno if they’re gonna be taking on multiple crews and then paying whoever succeeds or if they’re just gonna hire one, which is why we should try to get there before anyone else. Hopefully no one who’s already there is showing any interest in it. I’ve got a friend in Restick who can get us to Myrisih. I’m not sure who the contractor is, but I know a guy there named Voya who’s well-connected and can maybe arrange a meeting for us.” He paused a second, then added, “There is one hitch, though.”
“And what is that?”
Puk sighed. “This buddy of mine—Voya—we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms the last time we saw each other.”
Kali’s interest was piqued yet again. She grinned and nodded for him to continue on.
“We were both on a boat. I hadn’t seen him in a while and had no idea he was gonna be there. I still owed him money for—uh, stuff that I had bought from him, and he wanted me to pay.”
“Of course,” Kali said. Why would a merchant not want to be paid for their products? Though she had to briefly wonder what Puk would have been buying from a black market trader, but she decided to let that question slide for now.
“Right. Totally reasonable. But I did not have sufficient funds at the time, and so, uh…well, the guy’s an ujath, so he’s pretty top-heavy. I sorta just panicked and pushed him over the side of the boat.”
“What the fuck?” she blurted out.
“I know! I know! It was not my best moment, I admit that. I feel terrible about it. Well, maybe not terrible, the guy is kind of an ass—but the point is I did not pay him what I owed, I pushed him out of a boat, and given the bulky satchel he was carrying, I’m pretty sure he had a bunch of shit in there that I ruined by submerging it in the ocean.”
She could not comprehend how the innocent-looking qarm before her seemed to continually get himself into such ridiculous situations. She asked, “Was this a long time ago? Do you think maybe he’s cooled off about the whole thing?”
“This was a couple weeks ago when I was coming to Herrilock.”
“Well—”
“Yeah. Not great. But I have an idea about how to pay him back! It’ll be a little tricky, but worth it to get those ten thousand crescents.”
She waited to hear him out.
“I know the type of shit Voya’s into. If we can snatch some cordol eggs and bring them to him before they hatch, I’m sure all will be forgiven. He traffics in a lot of fire-spit, so having his own cordols to gather the spit from would cut down on a lot of costs for him. He’d be thrilled. I assume.”
Everything Puk had told her was already a bit shaky, and now aiding a drug dealer on top of it all was pushing Kali nearer to the edge. She was uneasy.
“So, let me lay this all out there: your plan is for us to find cordol eggs, bring them to your friend—which seems to be a very loose term in this context—in exchange for more information about this job. And then we’ll take the info, go find the book wherever the hell it is, and get paid?”
“Exactly,” said Puk. “Told you it was simple.”
Aside from tracking down cordol eggs, it honestly did not sound
like an overly complicated plan, though she still didn’t feel totally right about stealing the eggs.
But five thousand crescents…
“If it’s so simple, why do you need me to help?” she asked him.
“Well, that’s simple too,” he said. “I’m just a dumb little qarm. I am not equipped to handle the desert, not like you. Even aside from being a faif, you’ve just got more skills and experience. I would probably dehydrate and die halfway down the Ribroad on my own. Plus, you’ve got more money than me.”
“So you need my money.”
“I mean, yeah, for some stuff. Food, travel, whatever. It’d be an investment. A beautiful investment opportunity with a return of five thousand crescents. Can’t beat that.”
Another fair point. In the scheme of things, the amount she would have to cough up to feed Puk and get them where they needed to go would pale in comparison to the payment they’d receive for locating the mysterious book.
She said, “I don’t feel great about the egg part of this plan.”
“I don’t feel great about anything most of the time.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It is what it is.”
Over Puk’s shoulder, she glimpsed the Carsuak textbook she’d taken from her sister’s book collection. She said, “The other day I actually read about where cordols migrate during the summer. I saw a pack when I was coming back from Yspleash, so I guess they’re there by now.”
“Great!” Puk beamed. “It’s all comin’ together. I told you we were the perfect team for this job.”
She smiled weakly, still unsure deep down.
But she wanted that money.
“When do you think we should leave?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” Puk answered. “That should give you enough time to gather up any funds we’d need and we can buy some supplies in the morning. And I can also sing tonight so I can grab another twenty-five crescents from your daddy before we go.”
“Okay. How much money will you be able to contribute, then?”
“About thirty-five crescents.”
She laughed, thinking for a moment that maybe she was a complete fool for agreeing to this scheme. But the reward was so enticing, and this crazy qarm was so confident in the plan.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER VI
WARMTH
An important part of Puk’s plan hinged on the assumption that his old friend Voya had managed to swim ashore and then make it back to his home in Myrisih, rather than drowning in the Loranos Gulf.
They had only embarked an hour prior before he knocked him overboard, right? Surely they were close enough to the coast for him to make it back and get on another ship?
He would know soon enough whether Voya had made it home or not.
They had not stayed up at the bar drinking and sharing stories after his energetic performance the night before. Hatching the plan with Kali before he went on stage had filled him with a sort of excited anxiousness, and he had practically bounced around the red clay stage while he sang.
Afterwards, he had to break the news to Botro that he would be cutting his residency at Shiar’s Slumber short. He told the man he truly appreciated all his generosity, but it was time for him to hit the road. Botro, as always, completely understood and happily handed over his final payment.
In the morning (after a deep, restful fire-spit sleep), Puk met Kali in the lobby to commence their shopping trip before departing later that afternoon.
She was already waiting for him as he descended the staircase, and for a second he wondered if he was late, which admittedly was more likely than not. She wore a thin, white sleeveless shirt and baggy white pants cuffed around her ankles. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which swatted at invisible flies as she swung her head to face him.
“Got your shopping list ready?” she asked him with a smirk as he trundled down the stairs.
“No,” he answered dryly. “You will come to learn that I am an idiot, and I do not know what we need.” The only thing on his mental list was some more fire-spit, but he would fetch that on his own when Kali went to procure their travel funds.
“You’ll come to learn that faifs have vastly different needs in the desert than qarms, so I don’t know what you need either. Might wanna think on it while we walk.”
“Noted.”
Their first stop was what Kali described as a “one-stop shop for travelers,” a modest-sized adobe storefront situated in the market square surrounding the Gaze. It was a squat building, its neighbors looming high above it on either side, and there were some visible but minor cracks in its façade. The place was obviously old, surely a staple of the marketplace.
Its owner, an ancient, hunched faif woman with dark yellow skin streaked with blue, greeted them as they walked through the front door. There were several others browsing the shelves, preparing for their own journeys out of the city.
“Am I wrong in assuming you need a lot of water?” Kali asked him, immediately navigating around the corner, her destination locked in.
“Nope,” said Puk, shuddering at the memory of his dehydrated, drug-fueled performance that got him kicked out of The Rusty Halberd.
“Me too. I get by with just water and sunlight.”
She led him to a shelf lined with waterskins of various sizes, shapes, and colors. A majority were tan and shaped like the animal bladder from which they were crafted, but a few had been dyed flashy colors such as purple or red, acting more as accessories than survival tools.
Kali scanned the shelf for a moment, then held up a large, brown waterskin the size of Puk’s head. It had been made from a hollion bladder and looked like it could keep his thirst quenched for a long while.
“This is the one I use,” she said, tossing him the limp container. He fumbled but caught it, its surface smooth and satisfying to the touch. She went on, “It can hold a lot of water. Usually enough to last me an entire day of travel, then I can fill up again at an outpost. Think it’ll work for you?”
He nodded and replied, “It looks like it can hold my weight in water, so it should be fine.” He slung the waterskin over his narrow shoulder, where it clung to his sticky skin.
Next on the list were some boots for Puk. He had sandals, which kept his feet cool in the heat and were fine for wagon travel, but if they were hiking, he’d need something more durable that would also protect the soles of his feet from the hot sand.
While they browsed footwear, Puk asked why they weren’t riding in a wagon or renting ayotes. When Kali then asked if he knew how to properly ride an ayote, he said no, so that idea was promptly shut down. Then she told him that generally wagon trips were booked from city to city, but their destination wasn’t actually Restick yet, and that they’d be venturing out from the Ribroad’s shade and into the open desert. It would be less of a hassle in the end to make the trek on foot rather than going all the way to Restick and backtracking.
So Puk chose a mundane pair of boots, the cheapest available that were still good enough quality for Kali’s approval, and resigned himself to the terrible reality of hiking down the Ribroad on foot. It would take days to reach Restick at the end of the road. He sometimes grew winded mounting two flights of stairs.
They then came to the food section. Everything in the store was specially suited for travel, and the food section was no different. Nothing was substantial or appealing to Puk on any shelf. There was an assortment of dried fruits, unsalted nuts, and—the last thing Puk noticed, which actually did sound appetizing to him—dried meat marinated in a sticky, sweet sauce.
But Kali caught him eyeing the latter and said, “Stick to the fruits and nuts.”
“Those ain’t gonna do it for me,” Puk complained. “That meat will, though.”
“The meat is for faifs,” Kali explained, just as patient as her father. “The marinade contains a lot of sugar, which we need. Sugar that I’d recommend you avoid out there. The nuts and fru
it will keep you energized without weighing you down or making you thirstier than you’ll already be. You can have full meals at the outposts; these are just to get you through the day.” She grabbed a small pack of the meat for herself. “I’ll need some in a few days. Stock up on what you want.”
He sighed. The meat looked delicious, and hearing that the sauce was filled with sugar made him want it even more, but he would acquiesce to Kali’s experience and advice. Though he would try his hardest to convince her to share some on the road.
Puk stuffed the sealed pouches of nuts and dried fruits into the boots and followed Kali to yet another section of the store. Despite her earlier snarky retort about not knowing what supplies he needed, she sure seemed to have everything in mind.
As they slid past other shoppers, Kali asked, “You have a bag, right? Or a backpack?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” She veered to the left, and he followed.
They came to a stop in front of a mass of white clothing hanging from racks. Kali frowned and placed her hands on her hips.
“I’m…not sure they’ll have anything in your size, actually.”
Puk was used to places in Herrilock not being especially accommodating for his kind. He didn’t take it personally at all; he didn’t blame his fellow qarms for not frequenting the desert. He wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible anyway.
Spit and Song (Ustlian Tales Book 2) Page 14
