Tobei loved Urden. The only reason he hadn’t gone into town with Daivad and Ben the night they had met Belle was that he was already … busy when they had left. The town was so crowded, so chaotic, so dangerous and overwhelming that Tobei couldn’t hear himself think. Mother bless.
Plus, no one questioned the fact that their wagon smelled faintly of Wolf piss. It smelled far better than most of the rest of this town.
While the horses tugged them through swathes of mismatched people—some wrapped in layers and hidden in hoods despite the sticky heat that promised rain, others wearing only waist wraps or loincloths, some in bright colors, some in all brown—Tobei watched those walking along the catwalks overhead or perching on landings or shouting out their windows. He waved at the shop owners and merchants he recognized, and started to lean out of the wagon to strike up more than a few conversations, only to be pulled back by Sen.
Tobei could have run this errand on his own easy, but this was why Sen was here. His only job was to keep Tobei on track—they needed to get to Urden, offload their cargo, get their cash, buy up as much off the list of supplies Kadie had given them as they could, and get that cargo back to camp, all before the sun went down.
This would be no problem. For someone less easily distracted than Tobei.
When they’d first started selling in Urden years ago, it had been a much more involved process. They had to go vendor to vendor, trying to find someone who would take whatever it was they had to offer, or else just try and sell it right there on the street. They’d accidentally stepped on quite a few toes in those days, both of vendors they were competing with as well as of the governing body of Urden, a group of Lushalen outlaws who called themselves The Families.
For maybe a year or two after Daivad’s camp had grown big enough, busy enough that they had to come into Urden more and more for supplies, there had been something of a … minor war between their camp and a few of The Families. Assassination attempts were made on both sides—Tobei didn’t like to brag, but the only two successful assassinations had been carried out by his best girl Nani. There were a few high-noon standoffs. The Families sent out several posses to search Silvax Forest for their camp and burn it down, but of course the monsters found them long before they could find the camp.
Daivad was in his version of a good mood during this period, pleased to have a purpose for his perpetual paranoia and aggression. And when The Families finally discovered that it was the Traitor Prince they’d been scrapping with all these years—well, they were more than happy to put their rifles and blades down and talk business. Daivad had been disappointed.
For a long time Tobei had thought that Daivad must be faking his annoyance with the way he was worshipped by anyone and everyone who had lost their loyalty to the crown. Tobei couldn’t understand how anyone could not love being a living legend, being a name that was whispered all across the land. How could anyone walk into a room full of people looking at them like that and not get fucking high? Tobei had been convinced Daivad secretly loved this, that he was just playing grumpy because that was who he’d always been and he didn’t know how to be fucking happy for once.
But no. The man genuinely named it an inconvenience and nothing else. When the hero-worship opened doors for him, he’d get annoyed like he’d been looking forward to kicking them down himself.
Tobei had been studying the man for his entire life, and yet Daivad never ceased to confuse the shit out of him.
Anyway.
Now that Daivad was a kind of unofficial member of The Families himself, all they had to do to offload their products was go find Jukele, head of the Adebuun Family, usually in Ike’s Tavern, the sort of home base for the Adebuun Family.
When they rolled up in the alley beside Ike’s, Tobei could already smell the delicious, mocking scent of cheap ale from inside, a reminder of what Tobei was about to lose. Maybe he could grab a draft or two while he was in there. The idea cheered him.
Tobei leapt down from the wagon and, to the hooded figure that sat with their legs dangling over the side of the landing overhead, Tobei waved and called, “Your boss in?”
Without answering, the figure stood and disappeared through a door into the building.
Tobei listened to the murmur of voices inside, but soon Sen’s voice tugged his attention.
“S’pose I should go in with you,” an edge to his tone. Worry? “I know how Jukele distracts you.”
Ah. Jealousy.
Guilt twinged like a muscle spasm in his belly. This was why he needed to stay away from Sen.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Tobei turned to show Sen his teeth as the door overhead opened once more. “That’s a wagon full of liquid gold you’re sitting on. We gotta name one of us Guard, and the other Negotiator—and I’m nothing if not a negotiator.”
Sen’s soft lips pulled into a smile, but worry still weighted his brows. “As I know all too well.”
Teeth still on display, Tobei threw Sen a wink because he was a Mother-damned bastard before facing the figure above. They gestured with two fingers for Tobei to climb to the landing, but it was easier just to reach back into the seat of the wagon, pop open the latches on Nani’s case, and lift his beautiful girl to his neck. He called up his magic, twirled Nani’s bow—and drew long, sweet notes across her strings. His magic swirled his ponytail and his chiton around him, and Tobei felt his bones go weightless. His sandaled feet peeled up off the ground and Tobei lifted into the air, likely giving Sen a clear shot of his ass, should he think to look.
Sen muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “show-off,” but with a smile wrapped around the words.
Jukele sat in the loft above the tavern, currently empty except for the few hands busy preparing for the crowd that would start trickling in before long. He was leaned back, one arm on the back of the booth where he sat, the other holding a crystal cup that Ike’s Tavern certainly did not give its patrons. The crystal’s angles and carvings tossed light around inside it, making the dark liquid inside sparkle. The coat of his modern suit, black with gold embroidery, hung over the back of the booth, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up to his elbows. His brown head was topped with an enormous cowboy hat that had the same gold embroidery on it.
“Well,” Jukele said in that unique Urden accent that was a mishmash of dialects from all over Lushale. His white teeth stood out brilliantly against his black skin. “Look at you, boy.”
Tobei grinned as he approached, tucked Nani under one arm and flourished her bow with the other, spinning in a slow, smooth circle to let Jukele see all of him. “Look at me,” he agreed.
He needn’t worry about dirtying Jukele with his presence—the man was far from pure.
“What’ve you brought me today, Tobei?”
“A wagonful of my best work.”
Jukele quirked an eyebrow, his crystal pausing an inch from his full lips. Slowly, he lowered the drink back to the table. “With all the unspeakable things I’ve had to do for you for just one jug, I can’t imagine what you’ll make me do for a wagon’s worth.”
Then a grin split Jukele’s face. “But I am eager to find out.”
Once again, Tobei felt the blood flowing through him, felt his skin tingling. But the image of Sen’s sad smile kept Tobei on track. “Unfortunately, what I need isn’t nearly so fun.”
“Oh?” Jukele leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table and twining his fingers together.
“Supplies.” Tobei tucked Nani’s bow under his arm as well before reaching into his chiton for the paper Kadie had given him and sliding it across the table toward Juke. “Or the coin to buy them, at least.”
Jukele’s face disappeared behind the brim of his hat when he looked down to read the list. After a moment, he said, “Mm. I heard about Duxon.” Then he looked up at Tobei. “Your boy’s desperation must weigh heavy for it to tip the scales with a wagonful of the best whiskey in Lushale on the other end.”
“Nah,” Tobei grumbled, putting on a nice pout. “It’s just that he doesn’t give my art the same weight you and I do.”
Truthfully, they were desperate, but Tobei couldn’t let Jukele know that. The Adebuun Family and the camp may have a good working relationship now, but if Jukele caught wind of the slightest weakness, that could change in an instant.
“He seems to enjoy it enough when he comes here,” Jukele gestured around the tavern.
Tobei blinked. “He orders my whiskey?”
Juke nodded.
Holding his casual mask in place, making sure the surprise and sudden emotion he felt were nowhere to be found, Tobei said, “Who’d have guessed the bastard has some taste after all?”
A few minutes later, Juke climbed into the back of the wagon to inspect the product. He hooked two fingers in one of the jug’s handles and swung it up into his arms, then carefully took the cork in his teeth, sending Tobei a wink before he pulled it loose with that familiar pop Tobei loved. Sen stayed in the wagon’s seat, facing decidedly forward.
Cork still in his teeth, Juke took a deep sniff of the jug’s contents, wide nostrils flaring wider. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and he gave an appreciative, “Mm.”
When he’d replaced the cork and settled the jug back in its place, he took in the cargo as a whole. “These are whiskey,” he gestured toward half the wagon, “and these are wine?”
“Yep.”
To himself, Jukele whispered, “Damn.” Then he hopped down from the wagon, sending up a tiny cloud of alley dust around his shining shoes. “Alright. I’ll claim the whole thing, and in payment open the doors of one of our warehouses. Our stores should satisfy you.” His eyes twinkled at Tobei.
“Me? I doubt that.” A grin crawled across Tobei’s face. “But the list? Sure.”
Juke chuckled, then reached up to brush a finger just under Tobei’s chin.
It didn’t really sink in until Jukele called some hands which began to unload Tobei’s precious cargo. He watched as, one by one—
You’re a fucking alcoholic, Tobeicus
—his life-saving medicine was carried out of sight.
“What’s this, Tobei?” Jukele asked, pulling Tobei back to reality for a moment. Jukele indicated Tobei’s own hand, the fingers of which seemed attached to the side of Tobei’s face.
Tobei started to remove his hand—but immediately felt the mask slipping. So he just kept his fingers there and smiled.