Chapter One #2
Finally alone, I pick up my pace until the black market finally comes into view. The market is not sanctioned by the king, yet I have no doubt a tithe is paid to him, or else his maroon-draped knights and their bonded dire wolves would be here in an instant, ripping us all into bloody shreds.
It is certainly not compassion that stays the king’s hand, though perhaps it is simply that, as far as he’s concerned, the city of Wrohelm ends at the sixth ring.
Does he consider the people who exist beyond the concentric walls to be as repugnant as the Torailian or the Issen?
I push my way through the crowds, tuning out the usual curses at King Korvane and the back-and-forth pleas of desperate bartering.
Our lives here are a refrain of pleas with other Morathkians, and with the Gods and Goddesses, though I have long since ceased wondering if they hear us here.
They don’t. No one does.
As I squeeze my way past a woman grappling to keep her three children in tow, someone grabs my arm. I swing around, ready to knock the person off, only to be struck with the stench of alcohol, which spills from every pore of the haggard man’s frame.
Anger surges through me that he is this drunk this early in the day; it reminds me of Father, forever drinking away what little coin we managed to scrape together. Drinking us into desperation and destitution.
‘There will be a Retterheld soon,’ the man slurs. ‘One a century. Etta will take me. Wait and see. I’ll show that fucking Korvane.’
He all but falls into me as he stumbles, and I suppress a snort of pure derision. He may be right about a Retterheld coming, but only nobles and knights may enter, and this man is neither of those. Etta’s great gifting is as far from him as a full stomach is for me.
‘Sure,’ I say, patting his shoulder and pushing him gently to sit on a crate where he continues mumbling about the Gods and his impending – albeit delusional – triumph as I make my way to Rula’s stall.
At a glance, the racketeer looks like a motherly matron with her rounded figure and flushed cheeks.
But her appearance alone should be warning enough.
Only the unscrupulous are fat here, and with the wealth she has extorted and squirrelled away, she could easily afford a place in the inner rings, but she chooses to remain here, queen of the desperate.
She would rather be someone here than a no one within the rings.
As I approach, Rula is talking to a young couple standing in front of her stall, which on the surface appears to be selling wooden utensils. But no one goes to Rula for what’s on display. No, it’s what’s hidden under the fabric that matters. That’s where my tonics will go.
I drop into line at the back of the queue, although it only takes a moment before she looks in my direction and catches my eye. She jerks her head, summoning me forward. Unease causes me to falter. She usually makes me wait, keen to indulge in any opportunity to exercise her power.
‘Come back later,’ she says bluntly to the couple.
‘But we—’
‘I said later,’ she repeats. Her words are clipped, and there’s a glint in her eyes that says if they don’t obey, she’ll make sure they’re sorry.
Muttering, the pair slink off, leaving me space to step forward.
‘I’ve got six for today,’ I tell her. ‘And they’re good. Potent stuff. I refined my mother’s recipe a bit to balance out the lack of magic.’
‘Don’t care how it works, as long as it does,’ she grunts.
‘It does,’ I say, pulling them from my pockets. But I don’t pass them to her straightaway. ‘I know you’re selling the vials for more than when we started,’ I say, my throat dry. I force myself to continue. ‘And they’re better now than they were back then.’
She arches an eyebrow. ‘And your point is?’
‘You’re making more money off my tonics now,’ I state simply, ‘so I should be getting more too.’
‘I’m sorry, were you under the impression that the world was fair, kid?’ I bristle at the term. I’m nineteen, not nine. She continues, gesturing between the two of us. ‘That’s not how this works.’
‘I know, I know. But you said, when we first arrived, that you would try to find something for Kay. Suitable work.’
Despite my best tutelage, Kay’s potion-making is worse than hopeless, and like everyone in this life, her options remain limited.
‘Kay?’ Rula repeats blankly.
‘Acacia. My sister.’
‘Right. She’s pretty. Very pretty.’ Her lips curl, and I know what she’s thinking.
‘Not that,’ I say firmly, refusing to sell my sister to fill my stomach. ‘Look, she’s at the age where she needs to have something to do. And I know you’re the person who can sort something like that. Something suitable for a former lady. You have power, connections.’
A little flattery never hurts.
She tries to shrug indifferently, but I see the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.
‘How about we keep the price the same, and you charge whatever you like, but you find Kay something to do for work?’
‘And if I don’t?’ she says, eyes calculating.
I shrug casually, even though my heart rate is spiking. ‘I’ve had offers from other people. Other people who can provide …’ I choose my next word carefully. Enough to concern but not anger her, I hope. ‘… protection.’
‘Is that right?’ she says, her jaw clenching. ‘And you’d do that, would you? Work with one of my competitors? After I’ve so graciously taken you under my wing?’
‘No,’ I say honestly. ‘I don’t want to do that. Of course I don’t,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve been good to me. I know that, Rula. I do. But I have to think of Kay. She’s my sister.’
She presses her lips together, and my body tenses. I’m not sure what magic Rula has, but even weak magic is better than the nothing I’ve got.
As I wait for her to reply, a dark gleam sparks in Rula’s eyes, and I know whatever deal she’s about to suggest is going to sting. A lesson for challenging her, even a little. ‘Okay, Rose, how about a little proposal? I need something. A plant.’
Hope flickers within me. That is my area of expertise, and there was a time I likely could’ve got her anything she wanted or even magically provided it myself.
Mother’s orangery back in the High Hold was almost as well-stocked as the Goddess’s Garden.
Now I grow what I can, but it’s not easy in these temperatures.
‘What is it you need?’ I ask. ‘And what job will you get for Kay?’
‘I’ve heard of a job in the fifth ring. A nanny. A teacher. Whatever. They want someone who is nicely spoken. Gentle-like. Your Acacia would be perfect for it.’
My body tenses as I wait for the catch, because there will be one.
‘So what’s the plant?’
Her lips corkscrew into a smile, and it’s twisted, threatening, and altogether creepy. ‘Well, that’s the fun part.’