The miners stared at her as if she were some strange creature unearthed from the salt. The men might be paler than typical Florentines, labouring all day deep in the salt caves, but Kara’s skin was like snow, preserved from the sun by one of the witch’s unguents.
The foreman among them found his wits at last, just as I was about to chivvy him along. It could only be a matter of minutes before the hounds caught up and barks turned into bites. “Can’t do that ma’am. Kelem’s got his own ways. No one goes down less he sends his servant for them.” He watched us with eyes narrowed against the brightness, a shrewd look on his gaunt face, tight-fleshed as though the salt had sucked all but the last drops of moisture from him.
“We could pay.” Kara glanced my way, over-tired and leaning on her spear.
“Ain’t enough in your pocket, ma’am, no matter how deep it is.” He shook his grizzled head. “Kelem’s rules aren’t to be broken. Play by them and he’s fair. Break them and you’ll think the Inquisition kind.”
“And you’re going to stop us?” Snorri frowned. I knew it would be reluctance to hurt them that worried him, not their numbers.
The miners stiffened at the challenge in his tone, straightening up, awake now, some taking up crowbars, the last few emerging from the long hut to bring their strength up to fifteen. Their numbers worried me plenty, and Snorri looked done in.
“Wait! Wait . . .” I raised a hand above my head and threw what princely authority I could into my voice. “By the rules you say?” I reached into my jacket and riffled through the papers still packed into the inner pockets, the deeds and titles of various acquisitions so minor I hadn’t had either time nor inclination to cash in when amassing the gold that Ta-Nam had taken from me. Of late they had served as nothing more than insulation from the night chill in the dungeons. I found the one I wanted and carefully unwadded it from the others. Thankfully it looked as though the ink hadn’t run too badly after my dip in the Umber. “Here!” I drew it forth with a flourish. “Notarized by House Gold.” I ran my finger along the scrolled title and wax seal. “I own thirteen twenty-fourth shares in Crptipa Mining Corporation. A grand name for this godforsaken collection of shacks and the trickle of salt you fellows manage to send to the city. So whilst . . .” I searched the document. “Antonio Garraro . . . is your paymaster and manages the running of this operation from his desk in the city, it’s actually me, Prince Jalan Kendeth, heir decimal to the throne of Red March and her protectorates, who owns the controlling interest in this hole in the ground.” I paused to let that sink in. “So, I’d like to take a tour of my holdings, and I can’t think that such an action would break any rules set by Kelem. Rules which, after all, allow my employees to do exactly that, seven days a week.”
The foreman came over, keeping a wary eye on the axe in Snorri’s hand. He glanced at the faded and water-blotched ink work on the parchment and reached out to tap a nail against the wax seal. He let his gaze fall to the dirty rags adhering to my body. “You don’t look like you own a mine, Prince . . .”
“Prince Jalan Kendeth, heir to the Red Queen, and don’t try to pretend you’ve not heard of her.” I raised my voice to the near-shout that works best when commanding menials. “And I look like exactly the sort of man who would own a played-out, worthless hole like Crptipa, which hasn’t made a profit in six years.”
The foreman paused, teeth against his wizened lower lip. I watched him weighing up various odds behind his eyes, the sums evident in the furrowing of his brow.
“Right you are, yer majesty. I’ll take you down presently. The night shift will be up within the hour and then—”
“We’ll go now, no guide required.” I started walking toward the cavern mouth. The others joined me. The distant baying had started to grow rapidly louder.
“But . . . but you’ll get lost!” the foreman called at my back.
“I doubt it! It’s my mine after all, a man should know the way around his own mine!” A guide would only try to keep us in the company-controlled areas and wouldn’t know how to navigate Kelem’s caverns any more than we did.
“You’re not even taking lanterns?”
“I . . .” Swallowing your pride is always difficult, especially if it’s as indigestible as mine, but fear of the dark won over, and executing a sharp about turn I marched back to collect three glass-cowled lanterns from the hooks beneath the hut’s eaves. I stalked across to the others, my dignity demanding I take my time. A dog’s howl, the kind they give when sighting prey, chased away all traces of dignity and I sprinted toward the mine entrance, lanterns clattering together in my hands.