Coldmaker(42)

A pair of double doors swung open from the back, a thin mist rising from the darkness behind. A few more gongs rang from among the shelves before the shopkeeper swept out of the doors, his silver-gloved hands hiding his face. His whole body was draped in patterned silk, robes flowing down past his knees and sweeping along the floor. Capping off the outfit was a headscarf, emboldened with a Closed Eye so vividly stitched it seemed to jump off the black material.

‘Welcome, travellers, to the Mind’s Bazaar.’ The shopkeeper’s voice dripped like honey. He reached into his pockets and tossed out powders that glittered through the air, shining against the mist in a dazzling cloud. ‘The only place in Paphos where the Sun can be banished, where you might taste the ether, and miracles rain like Cold in the Patches, and—’

The shopkeeper stopped mid-flourish, confusion painting itself over his moustached face. ‘Young master Tavor,’ he said. His tone had turned nasal and slightly annoyed. ‘Are you aware that there is a slave behind you?’

Cam nodded, and even from behind I could tell he was rolling his eyes. ‘A Jadan.’

‘You never bring slaves,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘I didn’t think you practised the Decree of Unworthiness.’

The Decree of Unworthiness stated that it wasn’t just enough to call Jadans unworthy, but rather it was every Noble’s duty to reinforce our degradation. The doctrine justified all kinds of cruelty, and was the reason why so many Nobles wore Closed Eyes out in public. It was also why games like ‘Obey’ would always plague our kind.

Cam’s shoulders stiffened. ‘Of course I do. I’m not going against the Khat’s wishes, I just like to run my own errands if I’m honest.’

I tried not to cough from the powder drifting into my lungs.

The shopkeeper looked truly puzzled. ‘So why the slave—’

‘The Jadan has a name,’ Cam said, annoyed. ‘Micah. You don’t need to keep calling him a slave.’

The shopkeeper bowed, but his gaze remained sceptical beneath his bushy eyebrows. ‘Very well. What are you and, ah, Micah looking for today?’

The air inside was cooler than in most shops, and I hoped Cam would draw out the transaction for as long as possible. As they were talking, I had surveyed the room, taking in all the wondrous things it contained: the sarcophagus that was being used to grow blue moss, the boulder that had been split in half to reveal a belly full of crystal, and the little red eyes glaring out from small cages near the back of the shop.

‘I didn’t feel any different after the glow cream,’ Cam said, giving me a quick glance and lowering his voice. ‘Six times a day and it’s made no difference.’

The shopkeeper gave an understanding nod, calm and collected. ‘Alchemy isn’t an immediate magic, young master Tavor. It’s subtle and mysterious, and can take many months, nay years, for it to show any sign of it—’

Cam took the purse from his hip and shook it, encouraging the distinct sound of large Cold knocking together. ‘Do you have anything quicker than subtle and mysterious?’

The shopkeeper eyed the purse, his eyes hungry. ‘Ah, well, there are some things. Some quicker potions that might have the desired effects. If instead of common scarab we use the powdered bradford beetle from deep in the Glasslands, and add just a dash of—’

Cam held up his hand. ‘That sounds good to me, Lasah. You know I’ll take it.’

Lasah sized up the purse. ‘It’s quite expensive. There is also, and this is most unfortunate, a Jadan-cleaning fee, since I’ll have to scrub the floor where he is standing. I never thought to bring it up before—’

Cam’s sigh cut him short. ‘Have I ever turned you down before?’

Lasah bowed again, the long silk sleeves of his robe brushing the polished ground. ‘Please just keep your sl— Micah – close to the door. Jadan essence can be toxic for my ingredients.’

I sneaked a look at my feet, grimacing at the sand I’d dragged in, but Cam winked at me, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘We won’t move.’

The shopkeeper hopped around the room, picking vials off shelves and uncorking them, testing their freshness. Or perhaps testing for the opposite. I couldn’t imagine the skills that the job required. The rubbish heaps I plundered were never successful in teaching me what was safe and what might turn me into a raving lunatic with one sniff.

Cam yawned again, finishing up the last of his drink. ‘And more Oolong tea as well, please, Lasah. No rush, just when you get a chance.’

Lasah was dumping a white crystalline power into a mixing bowl. ‘Of course. For you, tea is on the house.’

Cam tapped his foot as he turned to me. ‘So, Spout,’ he said, ‘do you like music?’

I tried not to let my face go slack. Jadans weren’t encouraged to like anything. Either this High Nobleboy was so sheltered that he didn’t understand a Jadan’s place, or he was toying with me.

I gave a polite nod, keeping my eyes pinned to Lasah’s work.

Cam’s ears perked up. ‘Great! What kind of music?’

‘The “Khat’s Anthem”,’ I said without pause.

‘Yeah, the “Khat’s Anthem” is fine.’ I could hear a groan in Cam’s words. ‘What else though?’

I kept my eyes down, not knowing what to say. Matty, Moussa and I made up music together all the time – or rather, we used to – and I listened to what escaped from the Imbiberies when I went out at night, but most Noble music was foreign to me.