Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  The man frowned and grasped for his neck where a thick, gold chain dangled. “Common? This isn’t common.”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ve been seeing this kind of thing a lot lately. Plain gold just doesn’t have the same value that it used to.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “Not with the new mines in Ridgmont giving so many more options.”

  “What kind of options?”

  Sim swept to a shelf and pulled down a leather box; he swung open the lid to reveal three thick necklaces, all inlaid with brilliant shining jewels. The first had alternating light and dark blue gems, the second, red and orange, and the third, green and black jewels. They sparkled and reflected in Moneybags’ bulging eyes.

  “Of course, those are the most expensive. I’ve got some cheaper options that may be more—”

  “No!” Moneybags lay a hand on the box. “I’ll take all three.”

  Sim raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, sir? They’re quite expensive.”

  “Money’s no matter. I’ll take them all.” He pulled a fat bag of coins from beneath his cloak.

  Moneybags left the shop with the leather box tucked under his arm and Sim scooped a pile of gold coins from the counter into a drawer. He grinned as Rae and Ash came back into the light. “And that is how you sell to a Moneybags.”

  “You insult him?” Rae said.

  Sim cocked his head to the side. “I suppose, to a degree. But nothing I said was untrue. That’s very important when you’re selling in the Upper Trading district. You might get away with selling snake oil down in Lower Trading, but the people won’t stand for it here. They’d strip my license and I’d never sell again. So remember, never lie. Those necklaces I sold him are far more valuable than the gold one he was wearing, and people will notice.”

  Ash chewed on his bottom lip. Sim had made it look so easy; Moneybags had practically thrown his gold onto the counter.

  “Ah, a member of our second group is just coming up the road now,” Sim said. “Do you see the woman in the black dress?”

  Ash and Rae nodded. She walked with her head held high and jewels glimmered at her wrists and neck.

  “An Unsellable,” Sim said. “Don’t even bother trying to sell them anything. They’re not interested, and if you keep bothering them they’ll call the City Watch and have you charged with harassment. Just stay out of their way.”

  “But she looks just like Moneybags,” Rae said.

  “At first they can look similar, but then again, so will everyone up here. This is Upper Trading; everyone is going to be well dressed. But, it’s very important that you don’t get them mixed up. If you tried to sell to that woman the same way I did to Moneybags you’d be in lockup faster than you could blink.”

  “But how do you know she’s a— a—” Ash floundered for the word.

  “Unsellable.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mostly it’s in the way she moves. She’s walking with a purpose; she’s going somewhere. She’s not stopping to look at any of the windows but she is reading some of the signs. She’s probably looking for something specific. She’s not out shopping just to spend money, she wants something. She knows what it is, and where she can get it from.”

  “But surely if she’s got money you can—” Ash said.

  Sim’s expression darkened and he caught Ash’s gaze. “No. Never try to sell to an Unsellable. It’s not worth it. You can usually separate an Unsellable from a Moneybags by their clothes as well. Moneybags will always have the latest fashion, no matter how impractical or ugly it is. An Unsellable will be dressed nice, but it will be sensible.”

  Sim nodded to a middle-aged woman across the street who spoke to a salesman and giggled behind her hand.

  “The Spinster. They’re usually the third-born daughters of minor nobles or similar. They probably won’t inherit anything and so—”

  Rae frowned. “Surely even a third daughter of a minor noble…”

  “Things are different down here remember,” Sim said. “Females might rule and inherit in the north, but here they’re more like property.”

  “But that’s horrible!” Rae said.

  Sim caught Rae’s eyes. “I’m given to understand that men aren’t treated much better in the north.”

  Rae turned away, not meeting his gaze.

  “Anyway, the Spinster is an easy sell. She’ll take anything that she thinks will make her more appealing; perfume, clothes, jewelry. And she’ll buy from any man who shows even the slightest interest in her. Of course there are male Spinsters too, but they tend to spend most of their money at the brothels.”

  Ash’s throat went dry and heat flushed through his cheeks.

  “Next, the Thinker.” Sim pointed to the corner where a man sat outside a small cafe with a book propped open on the table in front of him. “They’ll usually be carrying books or have a bemused expression that’s partway between confusion and epiphany. They’re usually socially awkward and not very athletic.”

  “These all seem like very broad generalizations,” Rae said. “Surely not everyone in the world can be put into nice boxes.”

  Sim grinned. “I’ve done a lot of traveling and I can say that I’ve yet to meet someone who didn’t fit into one of the boxes. Yes, it does make some generalizations, but you’d be surprised; people fit into character every single time.”

  Rae folded her arms over her chest. “Oh really? Then which box would you put Ash and I into?”

  “That’s an easy one. You’re Thinkers, of course.”

  Rae scowled. “Just because we have a book…”

  Sim held up his hand. “Observe. To sell to a Thinker you have to offer them something that sparks their mind, a new way of observing the world or a new source of knowledge.”

  Ash and Rae shared a glance and silent communication passed between them. Sim couldn’t just put them into a box; they were their own people.

  “Now, books are the obvious choice.” Sim waved at the shelf of books near the front of the store.

  Ash’s stomach jumped. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t longed to take those books down and read through them.

  Sim’s eyes twinkled. “But if you really want to get their attention, you need something more. Like this.” He reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a metal cylinder with circles of glass at each end.

  “What’s that?” Rae said.

  “Ah, I have the Thinker’s attention. Next I just have to reel them in. This is a device for studying stars and planets. It magnifies objects in the sky so you can see them.”

  Ash gaped. “No way.”

  “Remember the first rule, never lie. I can show you how it works tonight if you like.”

  “Imagine being able to see the stars!” Ash said.

  Sim put the device back up on the shelf. “And would you pay money for that opportunity?”

  “Of course!” Ash said.

  “Rae?”

  She nodded.

  “And just like that I’ve made two more sales,” Sim said with a grin. “You two are Thinkers, no doubt about it. You should be able to sell to other Thinkers easily, provided you don’t get distracted by what you’re selling! You just have to pique their interest.”

  “I never thought people would divide into boxes so easily,” Rae said.

  “The more you watch people, the more you’ll see it. But now I think it’s time we took a break. All this talking has made me hungry!”

  13

  Ash and Rae stood beside a make-shift stall they’d assembled two streets over from Sim’s shop. Shining jewelry and a pair of soft leather shoes lay on top of a velvet tablecloth. Ash’s heart stuttered, it was their first time selling on their own and he wanted to make Sim proud.

  “Doting Father!” Rae hissed. She snatched up a gold bracelet and danced across the street to where a young girl bellowed about wanting some candy and her father was doing his best to get as much and as quickly as possible.

  Rae swept up beside them.
“What a gorgeous girl!”

  The father gave her a curt nod as he thrust candy toward his daughter but her attention had already fallen on the bracelet in Rae’s hand.

  “I want that,” she said.

  “But darling, you don’t need any more jewelry,” the father said.

  The young girl’s mouth twisted and her face flushed red. “But I want it!”

  The father’s smile faltered. “Now, sweetie, you have one just like it at home.”

  “No! That one has green jewels in it and Mummy just bought me a red dress. I need this one with red jewels!” The girl’s mouth wobbled.

  “But—”

  “Now!” The word devolved into an inarticulate scream. Passers-by glanced their way and shook their heads, hurrying on to the next corner.

  “All right, sweetie. Please stop screaming. I’ll get it for you.” His face darkened as he turned to Rae. “How much?”

  “Two Marks.”

  “It’s barely worth one!”

  “Two. The gold alone is worth nearly one Mark.”

  The young girl’s screams grew louder until they echoed off the surrounding buildings. Ash shook his head and had to hide a smile by busying himself with rearranging the jewelry on their stand.

  “Oh fine!” The man thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out two gold coins.

  Rae clipped the bracelet around the girl’s wrist, and like a magic switch her cries stopped mid-wail. She brought the bracelet close to her face and smiled, her cheeks still streaked with tears.

  Rae stepped back to their booth.

  “Nice one,” Ash said under his breath.

  The father and daughter hadn’t got to the corner of the street before her wailing screams came back to them. “But you said I could have candy!”

  “You got lucky,” Ash said.

  “Please, be my guest.”

  “Okay.” Ash bit his lip and studied the people around him.

  It was still early morning and the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted on the air. People bustled between the stores with harried expressions. Ash’s gaze skipped over them and came to rest on a thin waif of a girl, floating up the street like a ghost, her long expression twisted into absolute grief.

  “Ah ha!” he said. “Consolation Prize.”

  Rae whistled. “Do your best.”

  Ash managed to woo the girl into buying a necklace and letting go of some of her despair.

  “That was disgusting,” Rae said.

  Ash grinned. “Easy money.” He flicked the coin into the air and caught it again, hiding it away in his pocket.

  “Poor girl. She needs some self-respect, not a necklace.”

  “Ah,” Ash said. “You’re a headstrong girl from the north. Around here people would say you don’t know your place.”

  “If you try to show me my place, I’ll kick your ass.”

  Ash grinned and held up his hands. “I surrender.”

  “I’ll show you how it’s done. The Time-Waster down the street.”

  “Time-Waster,” Ash said. “That’s a hard sell.”

  Rae rolled her shoulders. “Easy. I’ve got it.”

  Sure enough, not ten minutes later she’d sold the man a pair of soft felt shoes and a matching cloak.

  She came back to Ash with a smirk. “Beat that.”

  “You know, I think Sim was exaggerating how difficult this selling thing is. It’s a piece of cake.”

  “No. I just make it look easy.”

  “No, no, no,” Ash said. “It’s all easy. And I’m going to prove it. I’m going to sell to that Unsellable.”

  He nodded at a thick-waisted man walking up the middle of the street. He had all the trademarks of an Unsellable, from his unfashionable, thick-soled shoes to his harried expression.

  “No way,” Rae said. “Sim said not to even try.”

  Ash flicked his hand, eyes locked on the man coming toward them. “He was exaggerating. Look how easily you handled that Time-Waster. I can easily hook this Unsellable.”

  “Ash. No.”

  But he was already walking away. He intercepted the man in the middle of the street with a wide grin. “Good morning, sir, I—”

  “I don’t want anything,” the man said and stepped around Ash.

  Ash faltered mid-sentence and was left staring at empty space where the man had just been. He took a deep breath, turned, and danced a few paces up the road so that he once again stood in front of the man. “Sir, I just couldn’t help but notice that you could do with some new shoes. I happen—”

  “I said I don’t want anything.” He continued on up the road.

  Ash hurried to the stall and snatched a pair of shoes that looked to be about the man’s size before running on up the street. He reached the man just as he was about to turn the corner and stepped in front of him. He held the shoes up to the man’s face.

  “As you can see, we have this latest design and the new—”

  The man came to a stop and his nostrils flared. He snatched the front of Ash’s shirt and hauled him up so that only the tips of his toes brushed the cobblestones.

  “Are you deaf?”

  Ash swallowed. “No, sir, I just noticed your shoes—”

  The man shook Ash so that his teeth clacked together. “I told you I’m not interested!”

  “I just thought—”

  “No!” He shook Ash again. “No! Enough! I’ve had enough of you urchin street peddlers getting in the way of honest citizens. A man can’t even walk down the street without being harassed.” He snatched the shoes from Ash’s hand and hurled them to the side of the street where they landed in a muddy puddle. Some pedestrians stopped to watch.

  Through the crowd Ash saw Rae, pale-faced, watching from their stall. Their gazes met and she turned and ran back toward Sim’s shop.

  “I ought to give you a thrashing! Maybe then you and your little urchin friends will learn some manners.”

  Ash’s stomach turned and sweat poured down his body. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir, I was just trying to show you—”

  “Nothing useful!”

  The man hurled him to the street and Ash’s legs collapsed beneath him so that he crumpled onto the cobblestones, his shoulder slamming into a sharp rock. The man towered over Ash, his long shadow stretching out and around him and his hands balled into fists. Ash curled into a tighter ball, ready for the beating he was sure would come. It wouldn’t be his first but he’d hoped to leave them behind when he left his mother.

  “Sir!” A familiar voice filtered through the pounding of Ash’s heart. “Sir!”

  Sim and Rae hurried up the road toward Ash.

  The Unsellable turned and scowled at them. “What do you want?”

  Sim came to a wheezing stop beside Ash. “Sir. I’m so sorry for the boy’s behavior. Please, accept this small token as an apology.” Sim held out a sturdy pair of leather travel boots.

  The man’s scowl deepened but he snatched the boots. “He was harassing me.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. Rest assured I will teach him some manners.” Sim cast Ash a look that made the blood in Ash’s veins turn to ice.

  “He deserves more than that.”

  Sim nodded. “He’ll get it. But I’m sure a man such as yourself has many more important things to be doing.”

  The man nodded.

  “Then please, don’t let us waste any more of your time.”

  The man glared down at Ash. “If he ever bothers me again, I’ll have him thrown in a cell for public disturbance.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Sim said.

  The man nodded once and turned on his heel, striding away through the crowd with boots in hand. The gathered crowd dispersed, muttering to each other.

  Ash sat up in the gutter and massaged his throbbing shoulder. Sim gripped his shirt, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him down the street, passed the stall and into his shop. Rae hurried along behind them.

  “What were you thinking?!”

/>   Ash shriveled under Sim’s glare. “I was trying—”

  “Trying to sell to an Unsellable! I told you! I told you not to do it, I warned you.”

  “I just thought—”

  “That you’d prove yourself? Prove just how clever you are? You Thinkers are all the same! You think you’re so much cleverer than everyone else that you don’t notice when you’re being stupid. He could have had you arrested and been completely within his right. Don’t you understand that?”

  Ash hadn’t thought of that. He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t repay me the cost of those shoes that got ruined, or the boots I had to give him to calm him down.”

  “I’ll work it back!” Ash said, guilt filling his stomach. After everything Sim had done for him and Rae, he’d cost the man hard-earned money. “Please, let me make it better.”

  “How can I trust you out there again?”

  “Please, I’ll never try to talk to an Unsellable ever again. I’ll make it right.”

  Sim let his hands fall to his sides and turned away. “Rae is in charge. You are not to sell anymore, not until I decide you’re ready. You just watch out for Rae and help carry things. Go on.”

  Sim stormed to the back of his shop without looking at Ash.

  Ash opened his mouth but he had nothing to say. He’d been told, he’d been warned, and yet he’d let his ego carry him into trouble once again. Not only had it brought him an injured shoulder, but he’d also let Sim down. He swallowed and fought back tears. Guilt raged through him like a fire, burning to the back of his throat and searing his lungs. He hung his head and slouched for the door, determined to earn back Sim’s trust, no matter what.

  14

  Ash and Rae stood behind their stall, only a short distance from Sim’s main store. He hadn’t let them go farther than that since Ash’s incident with the Unsellable and he still hadn’t released his ban on Ash trying to sell. Rae gave Ash a sympathetic grimace and patted him on the shoulder before she stepped out into the crowd and approached a Moneybags.

  Ash straightened the already perfect pile of books on their table and smoothed an imaginary crease from the velvet tablecloth. It shimmered in the sunlight, bright and clean. He sighed and fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. The shine of Falconwall wore thin beneath a chafing layer of boredom and guilt, but he refused to betray Sim’s trust again.