After a second swig, the barman and I weren’t alone as Erlat joined us, but he knew his job well enough and went off to count the pieces of glass left on the floor or something.
Erlat looked tired today, but still had the serene grace that I so admired in her. She’d seen more, endured more than I’ll ever have to and she took it all with barely a ripple in her calm – a smooth and polished piece of jade, reflecting you back at yourself.
I often thought she was the strongest woman I knew. No, she didn’t have Jake’s swords or the ability to slice a man to ribbons, but it was there, none the less. A strength that sometimes was hidden, but was even stronger because of it. Which was why, when my brain wanted to rebel, run amok and perhaps eat me alive, it was Erlat I turned to.
The basis of my and Erlat’s relationship was simple. No, I was not and never had been a customer. The thought of it made me itch, somehow, though she’d offered me freebies often enough, probably because it made her laugh when I stumbled out a “No thanks.” No, the basis of it all was that she could be herself with me, and I could be myself with her. We didn’t need to pretend, though we often did anyway.
I never heard the black at Erlat’s house, I didn’t know why, but we weren’t at her house today, and she was – I don’t know. Perhaps seeing her somewhere else, seeing her laughing at someone else like she did with me… the black was bad, a constant seething in my head, and it wasn’t going away, it was getting worse.
“Rojan, how surprising to see you in a bar.” Her mouth taunted me with an impish grin and she smoothed the dark hair elegantly coiled at the nape of her neck. “What brings you here?”
I watched her client shrug an expensive-looking coat on and leave. He looked shifty, glancing all around before he braved the door.
“You, naturally.”
Her smile became strained. “Can I have some of that?”
I handed over the glass and wondered what was wrong. Definitely something up. Erlat took a delicate sip, licked her lips at the taste and set the glass down. “Is he gone?”
“Who, your friend? Yes, he’s gone.”
A subtle alteration in her, the slight relaxation of her shoulders and her mouth didn’t look quite so set. “Good. Gives me the creeps, but luckily he’s just a talker, mostly anyway. Pays me to listen to him and laugh at his jokes. Pathetic, really. But I’m glad you came. It was you he was talking about today.”
“Well, why not? I’m a popular man.”
That got me a glare so I caught the barman’s eye and another glass appeared next to Erlat. The barman retired with his drink and kept an eye on the last few Ministry men down the end of the bar.
Erlat poured herself a good slug of the booze. She seemed to be gathering herself for something, so I let her.
“The Storad want you dead, you know that, of course? Of course. You stopped their previous plan, they don’t want you messing with this one. But that man, my creepy talker, isn’t Storad, and isn’t working for them either. But he still wants you dead or, if not dead, then in the hands of people you probably don’t want to be in the hands of. Good thing it’s dark in here or the evening could have ended before it’s begun.”
“He can join the queue.” I suspected I sounded far more blasé than I felt, but people wanting me dead was getting old, though no less worrying. “What’s his reason?”
One shoulder went up in a subtle shrug. “He’s not Storad; he’s Mishan. One of their ambassadors, as it happens. They’ve been coming in dribs and drabs, negotiations and so on. Ministry likes to keep them entertained, and we were hired. He’s got a fondness for my girls, me, so he’s kept on coming even though most of the rest are back the other side of their gate. This one is a liaison supposedly, between the Mishans and the Ministry. Trade, food, what we’re bartering, all that sort of thing. Including cardinals.”
“We’re bartering cardinals? I don’t suppose we get much for them.”
“For the Goddess’s sake!” Erlat slammed her glass on the bar, bringing a few drunkly interested looks from the Ministry boys down the other end. “Can’t you take this seriously? Me seriously? I’m trying to help you here, help us all, and all you’re doing is making fun.”
I shut my eyes and tried not to see the things swimming there before I snapped them open again and nodded a sorry. “All right. Mishan liaison wants me, dead or not so dead. What for?”
Erlat settled down again. “Some of the cardinals are, well, in talks shall we say? Not official ones either. One or two have already sneaked their families over, and they’re just waiting for the right time to run themselves, before the Storad get here. The Mishans want the best deal in return. Money, goods, guns – you name it, they’re trying to get the cardinals to pay it. But they aren’t forgetting that if the Storad win, the Mishans might well be next on the list of places and people for them to destroy. They’ve hated each other a long time, and until now Mahala has been the only thing that’s kept them from trying to rip each other’s throats out. How we made all that money, right? So one of the prices the Mishans are demanding in return for saving a few cardinal skins is you and Lise.”