42. Saige #2
Archer’s fingers lace through mine and I’m momentarily speechless, as he cuts through the throng, carving an easy path for me to follow with the sheer size of his body.
Again, I notice the hungry glances in his direction, the fluttering lashes, but the Azkari general pays them no heed.
Instead, he manages to cross the swarming rabble of the Underhill Exchange in a matter of mere moments.
“This the place?” he asks, his deep timbre skittering along my bones.
It’s the art quarter, no doubt about it. Vibrant silks, framed oil paintings, and glimmering jewelry are all on proud display, the stall owners hawking their wares while keeping a look out for pickpockets and the queen’s spies.
Though the Black Flame is the picture of ease at my side, I can tell he’s on high alert.
His eyes glimmer, his shoulders are tense, and…
He’s still holding my hand. It’s my turn to take the lead, so I pull him down a row of stalls occupied by a sculptor, a glass blower and my friend, Remy—the best florist—and smuggler—in all of Lorevael.
Archer’s steps noticeably slow as we pass the latter’s booth brimming with exotic botanicals.
Several climbing florals hang from the edge of the table, while an array of breathtaking bouquets line the tiered display behind.
His fascination is utterly endearing.
I wave to Remy and mouth to her that I’ll come back later before reluctantly, I squeeze Archer’s hand and guide him away from the blooms. We amble past the self-proclaimed ‘curiosities dealer’ who sells ‘found’ artworks, previously owned tools, and estate pieces of questionable origin.
Beside his stall, is the man I’m looking for.
“Indigo Jack!” I call out to him.
The young man’s head snaps up, and he pushes his brown, shaggy hair from his freckled face, revealing a birthmark stretching from the bottom of his right cheekbone to the point of his dimpled chin.
When he spots me, he beams. “Saige! Saw the shop was closed the other day. I was wondering where you’d got to. ”
“Here and there,” I tell him, approaching his stall, surveying the assortment of artist supplies he’s got on display.
“Who’s your bodyguard?” Jack asks, sizing up Archer behind me, his gaze dipping to our still linked hands.
“This is Archer. Archer, this is Indigo Jack, best color merchant in all of Hanniel.”
Jack bows with a flourish before he winces under Archer’s glower. Taking a cautious step back, he turns to me. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m in the market for some gold foil—”
“I’ve got gold, I’ve got silver, I’ve got rose gold if you want it,” he says proudly, flitting about his table, picking up an assortment of vials, the contents glimmering within.
“It’s not your average gold I’m after,” I venture slowly, knowing how much pride he takes in his wares—legally obtained or otherwise.
“Just as well, Saige. You know I don’t sell anything of average quality here,” he snips.
I chuckle. “I meant no offence. What I mean to say is that I’m restoring a very special book, a very old book, and the gilded edges need to match the original. It’s my understanding that the original came from some sort of Azkari mountain?”
Jack’s eyes narrow and he rubs his chin where his birthmark ends. “Azkari mountain? You mean the Spine of Lorevael?”
“She means the mountain of Ignizar,” Archer’s deep voice cuts through the hum of the market.
The color merchant’s brows lift. “That’s no simple mountain. That’s a volcano.”
“Indeed,” Archer replies. “It’s known for the veins of gold that run through its ridges and valleys. Do you have any such gold in your possession, Indigo Joe?”
Jack’s no fool, regardless of Archer’s veil, he knows the man before him is a threat and he shifts uncomfortably under the general’s scrutiny. “I…”
Archer’s nostrils flare. “Think carefully before you answer—”
I smack Archer’s arm with the back of my hand. “Don’t bully him, you great brute. If Jack has some in his possession, he’ll tell us.” I give Jack a pointed look. “Be sure to charge accordingly. Double. Triple even. The weight of Archer’s coin purse is a great burden to him.”
That changes his attitude quickly. “I don’t have much,” Jack says at last, crouching behind his table and shifting the cloth aside, pulling out several small wooden crates. “But it’s in here somewhere.”
“How did you obtain such a substance?” Archer asks, peering over the display.
I smack Archer’s arm again. “You don’t ask that at the Underhill Exchange, General.”
Archer scowls, muttering, “I was just wondering how a mortal could have obtained such a rare—”
“Well, don’t wonder it here,” I tell him, before addressing our trader friend. “Any luck, Jack?”
He pops up and holds out a tiny black vial. “This is all I have, and it will cost you. I have to keep it in a jar like this because it makes all my other colors look dull.” He uncorks it, tilting it towards me so I can see the contents within.
“That’s gold alright,” I say. “Archer, this is what we’re after, yes?”
The Azkari warrior takes a look and grunts in confirmation.
“Pay the good man, then will you?” I nudge him with my hip.
Rolling his eyes, the general unceremoniously drops an entire coin purse on the table. “That should be more than enough, Indigo James. You come across anything like that again, you let Grayson here know.”
“Will do, Sir.”