Fable (Fable #1)(30)

Beside me, Willa, Auster, and Paj looked surprised too. The only person who appeared to know exactly what was going on in this crew was West. Everyone else seemed to have only broken pieces of information.

It was intentional. It was what a good helmsman would do—what Saint would do. I wondered if any of them knew about the crest painted under the rug in West’s quarters or if that was a secret too.

“That’s a shame.” The man huffed, pulling at his white beard. “I’d say about thirty-two coppers’ worth.”

“What?” I whispered. “You only paid me ten.”

“We trade to profit, Fable.” A bit of sly amusement changed the sound of West’s voice as he spoke.

“How did the quartz do in Sowan?” The merchant tucked his hands into his vest, leaning back in his chair.

“It did well. One hundred and twelve coppers for the lot.” Hamish handed him another pouch. “What have you got for the pyre?”

“I’ve got emeralds here that need selling. They’d do well in Sowan too, I think.” He nodded to the stones on the scale.

I leaned forward, studying the gems in the bronze tray. Before I’d even thought about it, I picked one up, holding it in the palm of my hand. Something about them wasn’t right.

“How much?” West looked at them carefully.

I bit down on my lip, holding the stone between two fingers. The vibration of emerald was low and soft. It moved like a gentle current. But this was different. I held it up to the light, my eyes narrowing, and the man studied me, a scowl on his face.

I cleared my throat, and West looked down at me.

“What is it?” The merchant was annoyed, leaning on the table to look up at me.

“They’re—” I looked between them, unsure of how to say it. “They’re—”

“What?” West snapped, growing impatient.

“They’re fakes,” I whispered.

The man stood suddenly, rattling everything on the table. “What exactly are you accusing me of, dredger?” His face reddened, his eyes blazing.

“Nothing, I—” I looked back at West. But he was staring at the emerald in my hand. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Only—” The man glared at me. “May I?” I stepped forward, lifting the tray from the scale and holding it up to the light. I tipped it so that they rolled. “There.” I pointed to one of the stones. “It’s not emerald.”

The man leaned over me, pulling the chain of a ruby-studded monocle from his vest and setting it against his eye. “Of course it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“West.” Paj’s low voice rumbled at my back.

I pointed to the hair-thin line in the center of the stone. “The inclusion catches the light. If it were emerald, it wouldn’t do that. You’d see right through it. My guess is that it’s forsterite. They’re not valuable, but they look a lot like emeralds if they’re heated to a high enough temperature. They’re even found in the same bedrock.” I pointed to the white-crusted edges.

It was only a subtle difference, but one that would cost a purse of coin. Whoever had made them knew exactly what they were doing.

The man’s mouth dropped open, and the monocle fell from his eye as he stood back, staring at me. It swung from the gold chain above the scale. “I—I believe she’s right.” He took the tray from my hands, dumping the stones out onto the table.

“They’re not all bad,” I said, sorting through them quickly. I picked out five forsterite stones among the emeralds and pushed them to one side, away from the others.

“Whoa,” Willa whispered, her face beside mine.

“Those Bastian bastards!” the man growled, his bony fist coming down on the table hard.

I flinched, and West stepped in front of me, his back at my face. “We’ll take the amber instead.” He pointed to the stones in the next tray. “Whatever you’ve got.”

The merchant was flustered, his eyes still drifting to the emeralds and back up to me. But West was suddenly in a hurry, taking the purse without even checking the stones and immediately leading us to the door we’d come in through. We pushed through the crowd until the sunlight hit my face, and I pulled the cool, salty air into my lungs, glad to be out of the stifling heat of the warehouse.

But as soon as we were through the door, West turned on me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I stopped, almost slamming into him. “What?”

His teeth clenched, his eyes boring down into mine. “Auster, make sure everything gets on the ship. Paj, be ready to push off by nightfall.”

“We aren’t supposed to leave until morning. I’ve still got supplies to get.” Auster looked between us.

“Then I suggest you hurry,” he ground out.

“What did I do?” I said, looking between them. “I don’t understand.”

West stared down into my face, the red creeping up his neck from the open collar of his shirt. “You should have stayed on Jeval.”





FIFTEEN



Whatever favor I’d earned from West and his crew was gone.

He and Paj walked ahead of us as we made our way down the dock, where the Marigold was anchored. I looked back to the merchant’s house, and Hamish caught my eyes.