Hest corrected the fall of lace from one of his cuffs. The shirt was a new one, in the latest style from Jamaillia City. He enjoyed how the lace held its shape in a half cup around his elegant hands even as he was privately annoyed with its scratchiness. Sometimes there was a price to pay for appearances. Rather like the price he’d had to pay to hire the ruffian who assured him he could track down and do away with the Chalcedean. The fellow he’d hired had an impeccable reputation for foul play. It had been rather exciting to meet him clandestinely in a filthy waterfront tavern. Garrod was a man a few years old than Hest, with ears so studded with tiny glittering earrings that they reminded him of abalone shells. “One for each man finished,” he’d told Hest.

“And soon you’ll add another,” Hest had replied, sliding the packet of money across the table. Garrod had nodded, his teeth white, his eyes confident. The perfect man for the job. At another time, Hest might have found him attractive in quite a different way. He smiled at the memory as he lifted his eyes to his father’s furious gaze.

Trader Finbok leaned forward and set his glass down on the table at his elbow. “Are you truly that stupid?” he demanded in disgust. “Just ‘let her go’? Walk away from the biggest opportunity that fate has ever tumbled into your lap?” He rose with a grunt to pace the room.

It was a large room with good light in the winter. Hest looked forward to calling it his own one day. Of course, when he inherited it, he’d brighten it with color and style. The curtains were the same unimaginative brown ones that had hung at the windows for the last decade. Good quality to have lasted so long, of course, but there was a great deal to be said for keeping up with the times, if one were to appear truly prosperous. And among the Bingtown Traders, to appear prosperous, even in difficult times, was the key to being prosperous. No one wanted to trade with a man who was down on his luck. If you bought from him, you probably got the shoddy goods that were all he could afford. And Sa forbid that you try to sell to such a man; he would do nothing but whine about the cost rather than trying to negotiate honestly and sharply. Yes, new draperies were the first thing that he’d do when this room was his.

“Are you even listening?” his father barked and then went off in a coughing fit.

“I beg your pardon, Father. The garden view distracted me. But I’m attending now. You were saying?”