Clean Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles, #1)(52)

"He is a friend," I told him. "I don't need a bodyguard. I am not important like the great Nuan Cee."

The Merchant smiled. "I do like to converse with you. You are always most pleasant." His furry face turned somber. "Have you news of your parent figures?"

"No."

He nodded. "I have kept my ear to the wind but there are no answers, only whispers too vague to sense. Should I hear something, I shall send word."

That word would be expensive, but I would pay for it, whatever the price might be.

"So how can this humble trader help you today?"

"I'm looking to purchase a clutch of Anansi pearls."

Nuan Cee leaned forward. His eyes shone with predatory glee. His lips parted, revealing carnivore fangs in a disturbing smile. "Ooooh. You're going to ki...i...ill someone. Who is it? Is it someone I know?"

"Probably not."

He laughed like a cat sneezing and waved his paw-hands. "Very good, very good, keep your secrets, keep, keep. Now then, what have you brought in trade?"

I'd brought a couple of things. My parents had traded with Nuan Cee; I'd watched them make deals since I was a toddler. Things like gold and jewels meant nothing to a rare-goods trader. After all, gold was just a metal that could be found on hundreds of worlds. Nuan Cee wanted something unique and rare. Something wrapped in legend. And to pay for Anansi pearls, that something had to be very special.

Sean passed me the backpack. I unzipped it and pulled out three large bottles. Each had a yellow label with a portrait of an older man smoking a cigar. "Pappy Van Winkle's fifteen-year-old Family Reserve bourbon. Best small-batch bourbon in show at San Francisco's World Spirits. Nearly impossible to get."

As an opening trade, it wasn't half-bad. It had taken me forever to get the bourbon, and I knew for a fact that Nuan Cee kept up with the alcohol trade on dozens of planets. This was my proof that I could procure something rare.

Nuan Cee leaned forward, enthusiastic. "Interesting. Four pearls. Five for you. Your parent figures always brought me the best things, and I will be generous in their memory."

Five wouldn't cut it. He wanted the bourbon, but not nearly enough. It was time for the real thing. Here's hoping it did its job well enough.

I reached into the backpack and extracted a small jar wrapped in bubble wrap. I peeled the wrap off and set the jar on the table. Nuan Cee peered at the viscous yellow fluid within.

"What would this be?"

"A treasure." I leaned forward and moved the jar. The ray of sun from the window pierced the contents and the liquid glowed like molten gold.

Nuan Cee's eyes sparked.

"On Earth, far to the south of me and near the equator, lies a sea, a pure crystalline blue. At its north edge, where two continents touch, stretches an arid plain. As one moves farther from the water, the plain rises and turns into barren hills and desolate mountains. Between the mountains hide wadis, narrow fertile valleys, secreted from the world. It is an ancient land, named after a ruthless warlord. Legend says he was so devastating in battle that his enemies knew facing his army meant the end of their existence. They called this place Hadramout. It means 'death has arrived.'"

Nuan Cee was listening.

"Twice a year, simple artisans make the arduous trek through these mountains as their ancestors have done for seven thousand years. They climb the secret trails to the east, toward the rising sun, until they come to the valley where the sidr trees grow. The sidr are sacred to many religions. Muslims know them as trees of Paradise. Christians believe that when Man was cast from the Garden of Eden by God, it was the fruit of the sidr tree that first gave him sustenance. Its roots dig deep into the soil, so far it can survive the most ferocious floods and droughts. Every part of the tree is medicinal, every leaf is precious. But the artisans take none of it. Carefully, gingerly, they harvest the honey from the bees that feed on the pollen of those trees and make their long perilous journey back. The sidr honey they bring with them cures many ills. It is the essence of that ancient, savage land. It's very lifeblood. There is none rarer or more highly prized."

Nuan Cee looked at the jar. "Twelve."

I rose. "My apologies. I hadn't realized that great Nuan Cee had fallen on hard times. Forgive me. I meant no offense."

Nuan Cee hissed at the insult. I reached for the jar.

"Twenty," he barked.

I pondered the jar in front of me. It felt like walking a tightrope. If the deal fell through, I had no idea where to go next. "I'm in great need. That's the only reason I'm willing to part with it. I bargain for my life, Merchant. You know my price."

"Thirty-two," he said. "The full clutch. It is my final offer."

I waited for the painful five seconds. "We have a deal."

Twenty minutes later we left Nuan Cee's warehouse, pushing a heavy cart in front of us. Inside, in sealed crates, rested the Anansi pearls. Thirty-two. Enough to murder a battalion of Navy SEALs. Maybe two battalions.

"Do Navy SEALs have battalions?" I asked.

"No. SEALs have teams, which are organized into warfare groups. Each team has several platoons in it, usually six. The Army has battalions. Was any of that story true?"

"About the honey? Yes. It's the most expensive honey in the world and it's harvested in Yemen."