The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(11)
He gasped in mock offense. At least, Florence hoped it was pretend. “Who is the White Wraith cheating on me with?”
“I didn’t realize you two had become so serious,” Florence replied in kind.
“Name this other upstart’s price. I will double it.” Louie settled back in his chair as the Alchemists ushered the reagents out of the room. It unnerved Florence, letting them out of her sight before they were paid for.
“I’m afraid that’s something you can’t do.”
“Girl, do you know who I am?” He gripped the armrests of his chair as slowly and tightly as he enunciated his words.
“Louie, we’ve only been working together for a year now,” Florence said brightly, so sweet it could give the man cavities. “I know well who you are. But this job is personal for the Wraith.”
“I’ve never heard of a Wraith having feelings before.” Louie squinted his eyes. “So Dortam’s infamous thieving ghost is flesh and blood after all.”
Florence needed to tread lightly now. Arianna was strict that no one should know her identity, or anything about her. The few times someone had decided to get cheeky and tail Florence back to the flat, Ari had intercepted them and quickly flayed them with her daggers, leaving the body in Mercury Town as a warning.
In truth, even Florence didn’t know much about her benefactor. She couldn’t say with confidence that “Arianna” was the White Wraith’s real name. But unlike everyone else, the truth didn’t matter to Florence. She wasn’t trying to play detective. She was happy with her life, content to learn what the woman had to teach her. The only thing a person got when they stirred up a river was muck; Florence preferred clean hands.
“Ralph,” Louie called across the room. “Have you heard of a Wraith needing to tend to personal matters?”
“I can’t say I have,” Ralph obliged. He knew who paid his checks, and that meant he had to play along.
“How interesting. So the Wraith really is Fenthri after all.”
Florence didn’t say anything, waiting for Louie to exhaust himself with his futile discourse.
“Perhaps, if he could come himself, we could strike a deal that would put him on my retainer.” Louie hadn’t tried this for a few weeks.
“I don’t think the Wraith will be working for any one man or woman anytime soon,” Florence responded, as she did almost every time. “Now, the three-hundred dunca?”
“I can see why the Wraith chooses you, Florence; you’re quite stony when it comes to giving away his truths.” Louie waved a hand with a smug little smirk. Florence didn’t drive any bargains and they both knew it.
“My Master has taught me well.” Florence watched as Louie’s lackeys filled Ari’s satchel with three paper wads. She knew fairly well what a stack of one-hundred dunca looked like, and she didn’t think Louie would screw them. It wasn’t in his best interest. And if there was one thing King Louie didn’t do, it was anything that didn’t directly benefit him in some way. “I’m afraid I can’t be bought.”
“That’s the first rule, Florence: every man can be bought. What does he give you that I cannot?” Louie smiled, a somewhat sinister curve of the lips. There was an overtly sexual nature to the question.
Florence paid it no mind. Let them think she was the Wraith’s lover. It made no difference to her and it helped maintain Louie’s illusion that the Wraith was a man. The further he was from the truth, the better. Plus, her and Ari shared a bed anyway. “A certain type of knowledge.”
She smirked and excused herself, focusing once more on giant explosions and guns. Louie was likely thinking of explosions of a different sort, judging by the look on his face. Ralph saw her out and the transaction was done. Overall, she liked working with King Louie the best of all Ari’s patrons, and Florence had no doubt that helped Ari decide between jobs when it came down to choices.
It was as pleasant to look at Louie as it was a hairless anorexic cat, almost as bad as looking at a Dragon, and he had an equally appealing sense of humor. But the man paid on time, never backed out, and never wavered on the terms of the job. It made everyone’s lives easier when Ari didn’t have to go on any collection trips. The woman could hold a grudge.
Florence rested her hand on the pistol in her arm holster as she passed by some shady characters—and shady by Mercury Town’s standards was saying a lot. The regular patrons gave her no cause to worry. They knew her, and they wouldn’t risk the White Wraith’s ire by harming Florence. It was the new lot that would set up shop in the dark overhangs and grimy alleys she needed to be wary of, those beneath King Louie who had yet to ingrain themselves in Old Dortam’s illegal economy.
She made her way toward her favorite shop, the one that always had the things that made the biggest boom. This time, Ari had given her free permission to use the dunca as Florence saw fit to prepare for their trip, and she planned to see fit for quite a few things she’d been drooling over.
She was halfway to the shop when she heard the first Dragon Rider’s glider scream through the sky.
4. Arianna
“I’m sure she’s fine,” the Dragon said again.
In less than twelve hours he had managed to find Ari’s last nerve, rip it out, step on it, throw it from the window, light it on fire, and bring it back to life, only to repeat the process twice over. She was half a breath away from telling the Dragon that his boon be damned, he had the choice of lying quietly while she tore out his heart…or struggling while she tore out his heart. And oh, how she hoped he picked the struggling if it came to that.