Bloodkin (21 page)

Jeshickah paused, considering the point. “That argument has been made before,” she said. A smile touched her
lips, as if she knew something I did not know—one thing on a long list, I was sure—and then she nodded. “I will concede that they do not owe
additional
taxes on the four months they have been absent, but they do still owe interest on late payments from previous fees, as well as the fee for cleaning their area of the market, and the location of the meeting where such payments are made—on
my
land, not theirs—is not negotiable.”

I had accomplished something, I supposed, by cutting out a bit of the money the Shantel owed. I honestly didn’t care if the Shantel paid their taxes in their woods or Midnight’s market, so I had no interest in arguing that point. That left the vilest part of this arrangement still untouched. I didn’t have the language to argue the cost of a soul the same way I had assessed the value of coins.

I looked to Vance. Among the Shantel, he had demonstrated his ability to engage in this discussion. Either he took my glance as a cue, or my speaking up had emboldened him, because he drew a deep breath and said, “That means the flesh you’re asking for is entirely meant to pay for the original attack. You were willing to accept two bloodwitches from the Azteka, correct?”

“One shapeshifter for each human death, or one trained, adult witch for every ten.”

“How can you justify asking for a shapeshifter to pay for a human?”

My stomach twisted. I wanted to protest that a human
was no less valuable than a shapeshifter. My mother, my father—they weren’t less precious than a serpent or avian. I bit my lip only because I knew Vance was arguing for us, and had to use language Jeshickah understood.

“The humans we lost were either broken slaves or second-generation slaves bred in Midnight,” Jeshickah replied. “Time and resources went into their creation.” Offhand, she added, “If you had access to any, I suppose I would accept humans for half the payment, or even a single shapeshifter of any age or magical aptitude, if you were willing to work to make up the difference.”

Vance recoiled, falling back in his seat.

“No?” Jeshickah asked. “Well, I’ll be sure to include the offer when I write our agreement out for the Shantel. Otherwise, we’re back to a son of the royal house, plus a trained, healthy witch of childbearing age … or I suppose Shane, plus any ten nonmagical Shantel they choose to send.”

Vance had gone pale, and instead of responding, he swallowed tightly. Jeshickah had just given the Shantel permission to sell
him
as the second part of the payment, and made it clear that she would put the offer in writing, where we wouldn’t be able to conceal it.

“You should know,” I said, “that part of our arrangement with the Shantel was that, if we agreed to negotiate this deal, they would grant our guild the same privileges and protections as your mercenaries.”

I would have liked to think the Shantel
wouldn’t
sell Vance, even to protect their own people, as long as he dealt fairly with them. It was even better to know they
couldn’t
sell him, according to Midnight’s own laws.

“What a pity,” Jeshickah replied, though she didn’t sound particularly disappointed. I hoped that meant her words had been a gambit to unsettle Vance, instead of a serious desire.

She wouldn’t have offered unless she was serious
, I thought.
If the Shantel had taken her up on it, she would have been obliged to accept a deal she had proposed
.

“I will see that my men are informed, and keep it in mind for future negotiations,” Jeshickah said, again with a hint of a smile. “I will consider that deal binding from the moment we conclude our discussion here, and you agree to carry my offer back to the Shantel. That should protect your Vance in the way you wish without complicating any other business. Is that acceptable?”

I looked to Vance nervously, sure there was some meaning in those words that I didn’t understand. Vance asked, “Am I correct that this would make the Obsidian guild unable to sell any freeblood shapeshifter, and unable to be sold by any nation?”

“No nation may sell one of our employees for profit,” Jeshickah corrected, “but if you are foolish enough to be arrested in their land—say by the serpiente, for crimes
against their throne—they are still within their rights to decide your fate. Otherwise, you are correct.”

No wonder Vance had been willing to risk so much. He had understood the implications of this deal even better than I did. Not only did it make it impossible for us to trade in innocent flesh ever again, as we had when we sold Alasdair, but it also made it more difficult for Midnight to acquire us.

“Can we get back to business?” Jeshickah suggested.

My spirit was buoyed slightly by what I saw as a success: Vance, at least, was safe. In fact, all of our guild was suddenly safer—at least in Midnight’s land—than we ever had been before.

Using my renewed confidence, I said, “The Shantel say you already took one of them, a merchant named Amber, when she came here to negotiate. Doesn’t she count as—as partial payment?”

“Amber did not come here to
negotiate
,” Jeshickah replied dismissively. “She came here to repeat the insulting offer the Shantel had been trying to make for months. When she heard our counteroffer, she became violent, and in doing so relinquished her freeblood status. I am willing to consider her actions the ill-advised, impulsive protest of an individual, but if the Shantel want her to apply to their account, then they can claim culpability in that assault as well.”

“No!” I gasped. We were trying to
help
the Shantel, not get them in even more trouble. “The Family just knew Amber had been taken, nothing else. They aren’t responsible.”
Though they might be proud
, I thought.

Jeshickah nodded. “Then we’re agreed that her status has nothing to do with our current negotiations.”

I looked at Vance again, searching for help, and instead found inspiration.

“How much did it cost for you to raise Vance here so his quetzal blood wouldn’t kill him?” I asked. Vance hadn’t been raised in the stone cells I had seen because a quetzal couldn’t survive in a cage.

“Is that relevant right now?” Jeshickah asked.

“When you asked for two bloodwitches, you knew that any Azteka sold to you, or born here, is as likely to be a quetzal as a jaguar. A Shantel child
will
have magic, regardless of his parents’ training or lack, but will not cost you as much to raise as an Azteka could.” Dear God, was I really talking about raising an infant in this terrible place? The only way I could even keep speaking was by picturing the trainers the way they had looked when the deathwitch’s spell had been on them. We had nearly killed them all once. We could do it again. “Did you factor those future savings into the price you are asking?”

“It’s a pity you’re so squeamish,” Jeshickah remarked. “You have a head for economics. Fine, I will adjust the requirements
for the second half of the payment. As long as the individual I receive is healthy and relatively young, that will be sufficient to cover the loss of property, but if they send me a witch, I will consider that sufficient to cover the owed fees as well.” I drew breath to reply, and she said, “That is my final offer. Take it to the Shantel. My mercenaries inform me that, with Shantel consent, it should take no more than two days to reach the Family Courtyard from the edge of their land. Therefore, I will give the Shantel one week from today to deliver payment.

“If they do not agree to these terms, they may buy themselves time by delivering Shane along with their counteroffer. If I hear nothing, or they waste my time with more foolish delays, I will be forced to take stronger measures. If it looks like the Shantel intend to dally and bicker, I recommend you two exit the forest immediately, because I cannot guarantee your safety should you stay.”

She pushed herself to her feet, prompting Isaac and Ariadne to stand with her, and snapped, “Dismissed now, all of you. I have work to do.”

She swept out of the library before Vance and I had found our feet. Ariadne trailed after her, but Isaac took a few more moments to sand and seal the notes he had taken, and give them to us before he followed the others out.

My legs felt like they had turned to water. I let out a slow breath, and jumped as Stefan spoke up, saying, “Farrell
and Malachi Obsidian can be fickle masters, but they have obviously taught you some valuable skills. If you ever tire of them, you should come here. You could do well.”

At that, he, too, left us, so Vance and I were alone with our pounding hearts and perspiration.

“That went …” I trailed off.

“Better than it had a right to,” Vance said. “Do you think she’s always that reasonable, or did she let us win because she wants to encourage us to come back?”

“I wouldn’t call that
winning
,” I replied. The concessions we had earned felt like things we hadn’t even realized were being demanded. I hadn’t really believed we could protect Shane, but I had hoped they were right that we could protect
someone
. Now we were still left going back to the Shantel and telling them that not only did they need to send Shane, they also needed to choose another victim to send into the spider’s nest.

Would they agree? More importantly, would the sakkri agree? If she didn’t, how much would Vance and I be risking by going back into the Shantel woods? The deadline Jeshickah had given didn’t leave any room for hesitation.

WE HAD BARELY
passed outside Midnight’s black gates before I saw a flash of white wings. Malachi looked relieved as he appeared in front of us and said, “We’re camped less than an hour from here. This way.”

My first thought upon seeing Malachi wasn’t the joy of reunion, but the memory of the cells we had seen in the east wing. A dozen half-formed thoughts bubbled to the surface of my mind, but none of them seemed appropriate to ask.

How did you survive?

Vance’s thoughts had traveled further. “We saw Misha last night. What—” Vance broke off, as if worried about sounding too suspicious of Malachi’s sister. “Is she all right?”

Malachi nodded with a grin that didn’t seem to match Misha’s condition when last I’d seen her.

“We were all worried about you two alone in Shantel land. Misha went to Midnight to try to get an official word on what was going on with the Shantel. I was glad when she said she saw you and you were safe, but then you never came back out. I’ve been circling this area ever since.”

Was that how Misha told the story?

Was that the “favor” she had asked—nothing more than news about us?

It could be. Misha had probably made the offer in her ongoing, desperate quest to conquer her fears, just as she had when she decided to go to the market. Unfortunately, it was not hard to imagine that she had returned to the vampires to ask a question, and had ended up manipulated into much more by the man who had held and abused her for months. In that case it was also easy to imagine why she had been so angry to see us. She had probably blamed us for putting her in that situation.

“Are you two all right?” Malachi asked as he started to lead the way through the woods.

“We are,” I answered. “We need to get back to the Shantel soon, though.”

“The camp isn’t far from here,” Malachi answered. “You’ll make better time if you sleep tonight and move on in the daylight. And … well, there’s something you should see.” He shook his head, sending white hair rippling.

We entered the camp to find a roaring fire in the center, and all of our kin surrounding it … along with two serpiente
royal guards, one of whom had recently had a bow pointed at me. The man, Liam, was the one the commander had told to get “his” Arami. They were both sitting somewhat stiffly, unarmed, across the fire from their prince.

Aaron was seated at Farrell’s left with Misha half beside him, and half in his lap. And she was
laughing
, her eyes bright and her voice cheerful for the first time since we had brought her back to us. No wonder Malachi had grinned when we asked how she was.

Vance and I exchanged a glance as Malachi went to Farrell’s side. The three rose to greet us. Misha wrapped me in a warm hug that made me tense with confusion.

“Kadee, I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “I’m sorry I was sharp with you when I saw you last. I was”—the open, welcoming smile flickered briefly, but I couldn’t make out the expression that tried to emerge before it was hidden again—“not myself. That place …”

Around us, the others nodded sympathetically. Aaron stepped forward and wrapped a comforting arm around Misha’s waist. Was it my imagination, or did she flinch first before leaning against him? Shapeshifters healed fast, but I wondered if she still wore bruises under her clothes.

“What did Midnight say about the Shantel situation?” Aaron asked us.

“Aaron,” I said, my eyes going from Farrell Obsidian—one of the most wanted outlaws in serpiente history—to the royal guards Aaron had brought with him. “What …”