Page 5 of Vipers and Vendettas

It worked!

I grab the link key off it, and I step through, my stomach lurching as I’m propelled through a dark tunnel by some unseen force.

I stagger from a door out into a bustling street. No one even looks twice at me. I glance around like I have a reason to be here even though I’m human and dressed in rags. I see a tent with a bored woman in front of it. She’s a sprite or a pixie, I think.

I make my way over to her.

‘Can you tell me where the bank is, please? I’m meant to be meeting my lord there,’ I say smoothly.

I started practicing speaking and talking with confidence in my cell at night months ago when I realized you can make people see and hear what you want them to. The fae do it all the time.

She looks me over, but if she thinks it’s weird that I’m dressed in a sack with some oversized men’s shoes on my feet, she doesn’t say. She points down the road. ‘No more than five minutes that way.’

I thank her and walk quickly down the old-fashioned cobbled street with my head held high. When I find the bank, I go past it a ways and to an adjacent alley, hoping that the fae soldier I overheard speaking to Toramun in hushed whispers last week before he locked me in my cell was telling him the truth about the red door here.

I find it. So far, so good. I knock lightly, and a peephole opens.

‘Password?’ rasps a voice from the other side.

I keep my expression blank, but I didn’t hear the soldier say anything about a password. I’m sure of it. I was hanging onto every word while I was pretending to be nonsensical. I’d even let a little drool out while he was talking for good measure.

‘There is no password,’ I say with a smile, letting myself appear self-assured.

That was how the Low Fae in Tamadrielle’s household got the humans to do what they wanted even though they usually had about as much magick as the human they were ordering around. The fae ooze confidence with those they consider lower than them, and it’s one of the reasons they get what they want all the time.

Sure enough, the door opens and I walk into a dimly lit hallway. The walls, ceiling, and floor are all black. The short, stocky man on the door is a goblin with stringy grey hair and large eyes.

‘Go to the left and all the way to the end if you have something to sell besides yourself, human.’

I say nothing; I just turn and walk slowly down the corridor. I take the left fork. I go through a conjure that feels like a cold curtain, and the hall opens out into a small room. A man sits at a desk, writing numbers in a large book. He looks human. He’s got short brown hair and a square jaw. He’s dressed in a brown suit, sort of like what I’d imagine a professor would look like. There are even leather elbow pads on the jacket he’s wearing.

I cough, and he looks up, doing a double take.

He leans back, watching me with interest. ‘Don’t usually get humans in here,’ he remarks. ‘At least not ones so young as you.’

‘I’m older than I look,’ I say.

‘Doubtful,’ he chuckles but motions to the chair in front of his desk. ‘Sit then, my beauty. Tell Jack what you’ve come to sell.’

I don’t mess around. I yank the dress up at the side, being careful to show as little of my goods as possible, and start untying my pouch of loot.

‘Whoa, I don’t deal in flesh, my dear. You want the other hallway,’ he says, putting a hand up and looking away.

‘I’m not selling myself,’ I say, emptying the bag onto his desk. ‘I’m selling these.’

He stares for a moment, and I know I’ve surprised him. ‘Where did you get all this, girl?’

‘Do you really care, or are you just trying to give me a hard time?’

He glances up and smiles. ‘No, I don’t really care. But do you know what these are?’

I snort. ‘I should. I took every single piece from the lion’s mouth myself.’

He leans back, eyeing me and flicking one of the pieces back into the pile nonchalantly. ‘Well, most of it is relatively invaluable. I mean, I could take some of it off your hands, I suppose.’

I roll my eyes, instinctively knowing he’s going to start low-balling next. I’ve heard the cooks talking to suppliers in the office before, trying to get the best quality for the lowest prices.

I start shoving everything back in the bag. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ I say, hoping he won’t call my bluff because I don’t know of anywhere else I can take this stuff.