Raven's Shadow (Raven #1)(100)

In the stable, he mounted without aid, but he had other things on his mind and took little note of it. For hours he dragged Avar from one merchant guild master to the next. It was not out of the ordinary for the Emperor to visit a guild master's shop - an emperor would hardly buy goods from a lesser man. If anyone was watching Phoran - and he thought there was at least one man following them - they would see that Phoran purchased something at every shop.

Phoran knew all the guild masters of course, but this was the first time he'd set himself to be pleasant to them. After they left the Weavers' Guild, Avar gave in to the curiosity Phoran had seen building all morning.

"You don't need a bed hanging," said Avar. "You could care less about silver candy dishes and tables with fluted legs. Just what are you doing?"

Phoran had come to believe Avar innocent of anything other than being assigned to keep the Emperor company and told to keep him occupied. Even so, he didn't quite trust his own evaluation. He should not have had Avar come with him.

Blade tossed his head, and Phoran let his reins slide through his fingers then gradually shortened them again to keep a light hold on the stallion. "After my uncle died, who told you to befriend me?"

Avar stilled.

"It's all right," said Phoran, though he watched the crowded streets rather than Avar. "I just would like to know who it was."

"My father," said Avar. "But it wasn't - "

"I suspect it was," said Phoran ruefully. "I was, what, twelve? And you seventeen. It would have been an unhappy chore - and I thank you for it."

He took a deep breath and chose to trust. "I'm trying to build some kind of a power base. The Septs will require a lot of work on my part before I know who will back me and why. But the city is as important to the stability of the Empire as the Septs. I thought it would be good to find backing here, where the Septs are too proud to look."

"I do like you," said Avar quietly. "I always have."

"Ah," said Phoran, for lack of anything better to say. How could Avar have liked him when everyone, including Phoran himself, had despised him? What had there been to like? But Avar had done his best to forward Phoran's plans, and for that, and for so many years of duty, Phoran owed him the chance to keep his white lies.

They rode in silence to the shop of the master importer, who brought goods from all over the Empire and beyond.

"Is Guild Master Emtarig in?" asked Phoran of the boy who manned the shop.

"Not now, sir. May I help you?"

He was new, this boy, and Phoran doubted that he knew even who it was who entered the shop. Phoran was dressed in riding clothes without imperial symbols - there was nothing to say who he was except his face.

"Boy," said Avar, gently enough, "tell your master that the Emperor awaits him in his shop."

The boy's eyes darted between Phoran and Avar, trying to decide who was the Emperor. At last he bowed low to Avar and scuttled through a curtained passage and, from the sound of his feet, up the stairs to the master's private lodgings.

Phoran began sorting among the items on the laden shelves and hid his smile. Avar couldn't help that he looked more like an emperor than Phoran did.

By careful negotiations with the other guilds, the importer's guild members could sell items that were not made in the city. There were beautifully tanned skins of animals Phoran had never seen - and likely never would. Valuable blown-glass goblets stood on a high shelf where no one was likely to knock them off accidently. Phoran was fingering a handful of brightly colored beads that caught his attention when he heard the boy leap back down the stairs.

He didn't turn until the guild master said, "Most Gracious Emperor, you honor my shop."

"Master Willon?" Phoran said with honest delight. He had to turn back to put the beads away. "I thought that you had retired to some gods' forsaken province, never to return to Taela?"

"Careful, Phoran," said Avar, who was grinning. "He went to Redern, which is part of my Sept."

"And Leheigh is truly a gods' forsaken place," agreed Phoran. "What business brings you back? I hope that there is nothing wrong with Master Emtarig."

"My son is well," said Willon. "But I have not seen my grandchildren in too long. I thought it was time to visit. My son is out to the market to speak with the Music Guild about a drum I brought back with me. Also, I had some people to see here."

"Good," said Phoran. He thought of asking Willon what he knew of a man named Tier - but when he spoke, all he said was, "What would you take for three of these hangings?" He would ask Tier about Willon instead.

They bargained briskly until they reached a price both thought fair. Phoran let it drag on for longer than he might have, hoping to catch Emtarig. Willon was an old friend of his uncle's, but Emtarig was the master guildsman now, the man Phoran needed to impress. But Emtarig did not return, so Phoran paid for the hangings and asked Willon to send the goods to the palace at his leisure.

They went to three more guild masters and bought a cobalt blue glass jar, four copper birds that sang in the wind, and an eating knife inlaid with shell before Phoran headed back to his rooms for a private evening meal with Avar. They talked, but not about anything serious.

Soon, thought Phoran, he'd tell Avar all that he'd found out about the Path - but not yet. Avar wouldn't believe him as easily as Tier had; he wasn't used to Phoran being anything except a jaded drunkard. Though to do him justice, Avar didn't have the motivation to believe in evil that Tier had.