Company of Strangers, #1

by Melissa McShane

  Perrin put up a hand, startling her. Surely she hadn’t missed the knives being presented? But no, it was the pile of minks on the trunk he’d bid on. A few bids were exchanged, and Perrin was outbid. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  “Camouflage,” Perrin said quietly. “And there are a few items we could use or resell at a profit.”

  “But what if we don’t have enough for the knives?”

  “This is not my first auction, Sienne. Have faith.”

  Sienne subsided. Perrin knew what he was doing. She was just there to keep him company and, she now thought, provide magical backup if necessary. If he bought an armoire like the one they were selling now, he’d only get it back to Master Tersus’s house if she cast fit on it.

  “Next lot,” the auctioneer said. “Five artifact knives recovered from an ancient ruin, non-magical, but in excellent shape. We will start the bidding at twenty lari.”

  Perrin raised his hand. “Twenty lari, do I have twenty-five?” the auctioneer said. The young woman with the thin nose let go her purse long enough to raise her hand high in the air. “Twenty-five, I’m looking for thirty.” Perrin bid again. “Thirty. Thirty-five?” The young woman’s hand shot up again.

  Sienne examined her more closely. She was plainly dressed, but in clothes that screamed bespoke and a pair of boots Sienne recognized as coming from the bootmaker she and her companions patronized, a woman whose wares were as expensive as they were high-quality. Her hair, unusually light for a Fiorettan, hung loose to her waist in mouse-colored waves. Sienne’s hands closed into fists. What was her game?

  The bidding continued to mount. Perrin looked as calm as if this weren’t crucial to their plans. Sienne didn’t know how much money Perrin had brought. Surely it would be enough. She resented the young woman and her stupid intrusion into their plans. They needed that knife, damn it!

  “That’s two hundred lari,” the auctioneer said as Perrin lowered his hand. She was trying to maintain her calm, but her wide eyes gave away her astonishment at the turn the bidding had taken. “Two hundred fifty?”

  One of the merchant’s representatives raised a hand, outbidding the girl. Sienne’s heart sank. The unusual activity made it look like Perrin and the girl knew something about the knives’ value, and now others wanted in on it. She wanted to scream, snatch the knives, and make a run for it. How far could she get before the guards tackled her?

  “Two hundred fifty,” the auctioneer said in a faint voice. “Three hundred?”

  “One thousand lari,” the girl said. Her voice was thin, but clear. The woman in the chartreuse gown gasped.

  “The bid is three hundred,” the auctioneer said. Her hand by her side was shaking.

  “I’m prepared to pay one thousand,” the girl said. “This just saves time.”

  The auctioneer considered her. She looked at the merchant’s representative and at Perrin. Perrin’s jaw was rigid. Sienne was sure they didn’t have a thousand lari. “One thousand lari,” the auctioneer said. “Do I have one thousand and fifty?”

  No one moved. The merchant’s representative shook his head. “One thousand, then,” the auctioneer said. The girl came forward to accept the numbered chit, then merged back into the crowd.

  Perrin stared at nothing. His hand came to rest on the hip flask, but didn’t take it. Sienne couldn’t think of anything to say. They’d lost, and to a girl who…what? Believed the knives had a value they didn’t? Or was she an unknown enemy who wanted them to suffer? But how could she have known they’d be there? Sienne stared at the girl, who was turning the numbered chit over in her hands like it was a precious jewel. Maybe they could reason with her. Maybe they could offer her money for just the one knife. Would that sound like desperation, and make her inflate her price further?

  “Should we—” she began.

  “Let us talk later,” Perrin said. “When there are fewer prying ears.”

  Sienne nodded.

  More lots came and went. Perrin half-heartedly bid on a kitchen table, and won. “Leofus has been complaining about the old table we use now,” Perrin said as he accepted the chit showing the lot number he’d purchased. “I thought this would be a nice gift for him.”

  “He’ll be thrilled.” Sienne felt empty. Of course there was no point conserving their money now the knives were out of reach, but it was so pointless. She didn’t know how Perrin managed not to despair. Or maybe he was despairing, and concealed it well.

  It was hours before the auction was over, and by the end Sienne’s feet hurt from standing so long, her stomach was empty, her bladder was full, and her hands were numb from cold. The announcement of the last lot energized her, until she remembered they still had to pay for the table. After what had happened, she resented the table for keeping them one moment longer than necessary, but she waited more or less patiently with Perrin to present their chit and hand over the money. “Will you arrange for delivery?” the man who took their money asked.

  “My companion will handle the details,” Perrin said, walking over to the table. Sienne followed him, pulling out her spellbook and opening it to fit. She’d had the spell for six months and still wasn’t tired of using it. Slowly she read out the syllables of the transform, envisioning the size she wanted the table to become, and savored the honey-sweet taste that filled her mouth. As the last sound left her lips, the ten-foot-long table vanished, replaced by a doll-sized table no more than a foot long. There was never any transition between the two states; objects went from one size to another with no intervening stages. Sienne closed her spellbook, ignoring the stares and whispers of the onlookers. Perrin picked up the table. “Our thanks,” he said, and strode off toward the exit.

  Sienne began to follow him, but a hand on her arm stopped her. It was the girl who’d outbid them. She held a bulky leather bag larger than Sienne’s spellbook in her other hand. “I have something you want,” she said in the same thin voice.

  “How dare you taunt me!” Sienne said, jerking away.

  The girl was unmoved by Sienne’s anger. She dipped into her belt pouch and brought out a rectangle of pasteboard. A calling card. Sienne had once had ones just like it. She extended it to Sienne, who took it without thinking. “Be at that address at nine a.m. tomorrow. All of you.” She tucked the leather bag under one arm and turned to go.

  “Wait!” Sienne said. “Why—”

  “Tomorrow,” the girl said, and kept walking.

  Perrin hadn’t stopped walking, and now he returned to Sienne’s side. “Sienne,” he said, “why were you talking to her?”

  Sienne looked at the card. It bore the name Odela Figlari and an address on the east side of Fioretti. “I think,” she said absently, “we’ve just been had.”