“Poison? What of it?”
“Then I could make sure I kill him the first time.”
He waved her suggestion away and turned toward the window. “You’ve been listening to too many talesingers. Poisons are a thing of the past.” On the street below, a raven-haired boy pushed a cart of fruit. Strange to think that most folk might go their whole lives without plotting someone’s death. When James turned back to Thalia, she was gazing calmly up at him.
“Why?” she asked.
“Poison is cheating. A blade is all you need.”
His dismissal had no visible effect on her. “Do you really think it’s cheating, or is it because you don’t have the means? The Guild isn’t exactly what it used to be.”
She was more right than he wanted to admit. A hundred years ago, when the Guild’s influence had ranged from the slums to the Palace, assassins had used poisons to great effect. There had still been talk of venoms during James’s early days at the Guild. The older assassins had told stories—exaggerated, no doubt, but detailed enough to ring true. These days, they barely had the coin to keep their crew fed, let alone maintain the funds and connections to acquire exotic substances. James felt a surge of irritation. “Do you want my help or not? You can pursue your poisons if that’s what you wish. But don’t bother me about it.”
“What if I were to tell you that I know a trader who sells lizard skin venom?”
He froze. “You lie.”
“It would cost you of course. But it’s there.”
James wondered when the girl would stop surprising him. “Lizard skin is a blade poison. You’d still need to draw blood. If you were in the Guild, I’d tell you not to use it lest your knife skills grow weak. But in your case, it could be useful.”
Chapter Four
THALIA arranged for James to be introduced to the caravaners at their campsite. James met her at the city gates so Thalia could show him the way. Her hair was pulled back in a scarf, and she’d traded her dress for rugged trousers that accentuated the lines of her legs. Thalia traveled the forest paths with the same grace she lent to her dancing.
“These friends of yours. How well do you know them?” asked James.
“They’re not my home caravan, but I’ve known Alvie since I was small enough to sit on his knee. He’s trustworthy.”
They broke through a clearing where seven covered wagons were circled around a firepit. A handful of men and women went about their business, weaving between the wagons and occasionally ducking into them. James had seen caravaners before when they traded in the city, but he’d had little interaction with them. They were a close-knit bunch and mostly kept to themselves, though James had heard that they were protective and fiercely loyal, both to their own caravans and to others that they formed alliances with.
“How often are they here?” asked James.
“Once a fortnight, perhaps,” said Thalia.
The back flap of a wagon opened, and a bald, stocky man stepped out. He had a face resembling a walrus, with a curled mustache in place of tusks. “Thalia!” he said.
Thalia responded with the first genuine smile James had seen from her.
Alvie pulled the dancing girl into an embrace. “Still here then, on your mad quest?”
“Until it’s done.” She spoke quietly, but something about her tone suggested that she was holding her ground in a long disagreement between the two of them.
Alvie’s expression became more guarded when he saw James. “You’re the buyer?”
“I can get your goods past the Red Shield checkpoints,” said James.
“You’re not afraid of the Palace?” The trader looked him up and down.
James smiled. “More marks against me won’t make a difference. But why would you take this risk?”
Alvie gestured in the direction of the city. “The Palace keeps our prices low by prohibiting us from selling to others. I travel far for those goods. I want to make my fair due.”
“I assume Thalia’s told you that we’re only planning one run. We don’t plan to be in Forge much longer.”
“Plenty of money in one run,” said Alvie. “And if things go well, there’s no reason we couldn’t continue this elsewhere.”
“Fair enough,” said James. “We’ll need to find buyers, but I’d like to see the wares first.”
“Certainly.” Alvie gestured to Thalia. “It’s in the fifth wagon.”
As Thalia disappeared behind the wagon, Alvie turned his eye toward James. “You know her well?”
“No. She sought me out.”