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Sometime later, a man came into the room. He was not large, but had the lean, seedy look Ehren had come to associate with the pirates who would terrorize merchant shipping before slipping back into the myriad hiding places in the Sunset Isles. His clothing showed much wear and exposure to salt and wind and sun, and he wore mismatched bits of finery, the decorative trophies of a successful pirate.
And yet… Ehren frowned and kept his eyes on the ledger. The man didn’t carry himself like a pirate at all. Most of them tended to be as ragged, undisciplined, and unkempt in ma
Ullus rose to his feet and rocked unsteadily back and forth on his heels. “Sir…” he began. “Welcome to Westmiston. My name is Ullus, and I am the senior trade manag-”
“You are a fence,” the man said in a quiet voice.
Ullus dropped his mouth open in a facade that would not have convinced an intelligent child. “Good sir!” he exclaimed. “I do not know where you have heard this slander, but-”
The man tilted his head slightly and focused his eyes on Ullus. Ehren’s master was a drunken fool, but neither too drunk nor too foolish to recognize the danger glinting in the man’s eyes. He stopped talking, shut his mouth, and swallowed nervously.
“You are a fence,” the stranger continued in the same quiet tone. “I am Captain Demos. I have goods to liquidate.”
“Certainly,” Ullus said, slurring the word. “Why, just bring them here, and I should be glad to give you fair value for them.”
“I don’t care to be cheated,” the man said. He drew a piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it at Ullus’s feet. “This is a listing. You will sell them at my price or buy them yourself before I return in three weeks. I will pay you a tithe as commission. Cheat me a single copper ram, and I’ll cut your throat.”
Ullus swallowed. “I see.”
“I thought you would,” the man said.
Ullus picked up the list and read it. He winced. “Captain,” he said, his tone cautious, “you’ll get a better price for these farther east.”
“I do not sail east,” the man said.
Ehren sighed and dipped his quill, focusing on looking bored, miserable, and surly in order to disguise his sudden excitement and interest. Westmiston was the westernmost human settlement in the Sunset Isles. The only civilization west of here all belonged to the Canim. Their main trade port was ten days sailing from Westmiston, and at this time of year, about eleven days back.
Three weeks.
Captain Demos was carrying something to the Canim.
“Come,” Captain Demos said. “Bring your slave and a cart. I sail within the hour.”