Deadhouse Landing

A corner of the woman’s thin lips twitched upwards. ‘Fine. Let’s agree to disagree. Just be warned. Don’t bring any trouble here. All right?’

‘Just don’t forget who works for who here, all right?’

She blew a plume of steam from her tea. ‘Oh, I won’t. How could I?’

‘Fine.’ He headed for the stairs, but, struck by an afterthought, he turned. ‘Oh – and get that Urko fellow out of the kitchen, okay? He cooks about as well as a Wickan horseman.’

‘Fine. Who should replace him?’

He started up the stairs. ‘Who cares? Why don’t you hire a real cook?’ He added, grumbling, ‘Maybe we’d actually get some real Hood-damned customers in here.’

Closing the door to the office he turned and stopped short, finding the room completely dark. ‘Oh, please,’ he complained, and light blossomed as the thick shadows retreated to reveal the desk lamp flame flickering and Wu seated behind it.

‘Who were you talking to?’ the mage demanded, hunched, his tiny ferret-like eyes darting.

‘Our hostess, Surly.’

Wu straightened, lowering his hands. ‘Oh. Well, never mind then.’

Dancer leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. ‘Actually, there does seem to be more to her than meets the eye.’

Wu was rummaging behind the desk. He pulled up three canvas pouches and set them on the empty surface. Raising a finger, he added, ‘As with us, my friend. As with us.’

Dancer pushed himself from the door, advancing. ‘True.’

Wu examined the leather ties securing the pouches. ‘Nothing special that I can see…’

‘What of Warren-laid traps?’

Wu yanked his hands away. ‘I don’t detect anything … but not my field of expertise.’ He offered one sack to Dancer, who raised his hands high.

‘You’re the mage.’

‘You’re the thief.’

‘Not a thief,’ Dancer corrected.

Wu drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Semantics.’ He picked up one pouch and examined its tie. ‘Fine. I’ll have you know that I’m the one taking all the risk here.’

‘If it’s a Telas explosion, we’ll both be consumed.’

Wu shrugged. ‘Oh. In that case.’ He pulled on the leather tie and it easily untwined. He upended the pouch. Small items individually wrapped in twists of parchment slid out on to the desk.

Both examined what looked like nothing more than a collection of sweets. Wu picked one up and studied it. ‘Writing on the parchment. Some kind of code.’

‘Seller and buyer?’ Dancer suggested.

‘Perhaps.’

Wu gently unfolded the parchment, revealing the small, hard object at its centre. Both craned forward, breaths held. Wu screwed up his eyes until only one was open. Dancer plucked the object from the wrap to examine it between thumb and forefinger. It was shaped like a pebble, oval, yet curled around itself with a narrow opening, white with tan stripes.

He refocused his puzzled gaze on Wu. ‘It’s a fucking seashell.’

Wu held out a hand. ‘Let me see.’ Dancer dropped it into his palm. Wu held it a hair’s breadth from an eye. ‘Damn. It really is a shell. Not one I know, either.’

Dancer threw himself from the desk. ‘Who the Abyss cares what kind? What is this? A scam? Did you swap these out?’

Wu threw up his hands. ‘Now, now. Let us examine the evidence here. Are these the pouches you saw?’

Dancer was pacing, cursing himself. Took the wrong Hood-damned packages! Should’ve searched her! He waved a hand. ‘Yeah. Fine. Decoys. Hood-damned decoys. Fell for it like an amateur.’

Wu raised a finger. ‘Not necessarily.’ He juggled the shell in his hand. ‘These look like a very rare type of shell. One that I have never before seen. And Dal Hon has a long coastline. Some tribes even use them—’ He cut himself off, his thick brows rising.

‘Well?’ Dancer demanded.

Wu set the shell down and opened another wrap to reveal a near-identical shell. He drummed his fingers on the desk once more, deep in thought. Finally, he breathed, ‘Well. This is awkward.’

Dancer paced. ‘How so? What is it?’

Wu tapped his fingertips together. ‘The problem is one of how to transport money – or value – on an island populated entirely by thieves and pirates.’

Dancer stopped pacing; faced him. ‘So … these are just tokens? Tokens of value these merchants agree to honour because they have no value elsewhere?’

‘For certain large exchanges, clearly.’

‘No wonder that guard laughed … So, what do we do?’

‘Change of tactics, obviously.’

‘Yes. Forget about cornering the markets. We should switch to protection and extortion. Take control that way.’

Wu sighed. ‘So much more messy. But, agreed.’ He started repacking the shells. ‘Why does everything have to be so damned difficult? That’s what I want to know.’

Chapter 3