When, a few days later, they received a message from the guild about a job, Nuliyaa wanted to go dance in the courtyard. It was a small job, simply bringing a young man to live with a sick widowed aunt on a farm about a day out from Wumaltsmaas. A job so small Cheeyt refused to let Nuliyaa come along. Kachaark had to go, since he needed to be paid, and she argued Nuliyaa should stay behind in case more work came their way. “Take on a courier job,” Cheeyt had said, almost like she was taunting Nuliyaa. “You’re technically an apprentice.”

There was no taunting when days passed and courier jobs were all that were available for any of them.

Every morning they weren’t out delivering packages, Cheeyt visited the notice boards while Nuliyaa would go to the markets, which accomplished nothing more than giving them more courier work.

“You’re establishing a reputation,” Kachaark soothed as he returned with a pail of water for Nuliyaa.

Well, Kachaark carried three pails, one of which was for Nuliyaa. The minotaur had made himself a neighborhood favorite, pitching in with everyone’s most difficult chores. Each day, he made sure all of the neighbors had water. When Nuliyaa had shown him the empty room in the stable that was set aside for hooved peoples, he’d stripped and cleaned the whole building. “All I’m doing is taking care of my new home,” he had joked. He’d moved hay, turned over garden beds, held up a broken cart while an axle was prepared. And, perhaps of the most use, he entertained the children when parents needed help. Nuliyaa was starting to suspect the neighbors would riot when he finally went on a job with their company.

“A reputation as a courier.” Nuliyaa heard the sourness of her words, but she couldn’t keep them in. “Courier jobs don’t pay enough to build a business.” She had volunteered to prepare their supper so Miyt and Tseetsaa could finish one of Miyt’s embroidery commissions. She’d hoped it would help keep her mind off of their failing business, but there wasn’t much else to do other than worry as she watched the simmering stew.

He shrugged. “Courier jobs now, but you’ll get more work soon. Eventually the other companies will be busy and you and Cheeyt will have an opportunity.”

“This is the busiest time of year. If we’re not getting opportunities now, when?”

Kachaark didn’t have an answer.

“Nuliyaa!”

That voice sounded so familiar. She turned to see the speaker and her stomach soured further. It was Maltangku, slowly making his way across the courtyard with the aid of a cane.

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“Charchee Maltangku,” she said, more from surprise than greeting. “Raawl.”

Kachaark dragged a bench over for her former employer and Maltangku sat, nodding his gratitude at the minotaur. “How is your business?” Maltangku asked.

Nuliyaa forced a smile. “We are building our reputation. Cheeyt is on a job right now.” That job was carrying a package from one side of the city to the other and Cheeyt would return in an hour or so, but she wasn’t about to admit how small their jobs had been.

“Ah,” Maltangku said. “Good, good.” He watched her stir for a long moment.

“I appreciate your checking on me,” she finally said. Why was he even there?

“Yes, well.” Maltangku straightened. “I had another purpose for my visit today. A professional purpose.”

“Oh?” What sort of professional purpose could he possibly have when he was the one who had let his son dismiss her?

“Charchee Yengkima had me make another piece for his wife.”

Yengkima was a very wealthy man, a merchant who owned several ships and shipped multiple caravans across Deep Keeyl throughout the year. He had commissioned jewelry from Maltangku three years before: a brooch, a hairpin, and three arm bangles, all crafted from jewels Maltanku had to search the Keeylish coast to find.

“He expects you to deliver the piece.”

Nuliyaa blinked at Maltangku. She hadn’t even known Yengkima had commissioned another piece. To be ready now, he had to have ordered it immediately after she left. Or Maltangku had met with him privately before he had become ill. “Is he not aware I no longer work for you?”

“Yes.” Maltangku gave the slightest grimace. “He was unimpressed by the girls. I tried to explain they were new to their roles and young, but he said he trusted no one but you to deliver his order.”

Was she going to scream or cry? All the work she had done to cultivate Maltangku’s clients. All the expertise he had gathered in his craft. and it was going to start crumbling, because if Yengkima was unhappy, he would share his experience with everyone he knew.

And why didn’t Yengkima send his own people to pick up the piece if he trusted Wiispuu’s daughters so little? Why was he so determined for Nuliyaa to bring the jewelry to him?

“I will pay you, of course,” Maltangku said.

She stared at him. He was asking her to do it? Of course he was—why else would he be at her home?

“Guild rates,” she heard herself say.

“Pardon?”

“I am a company owner in the Guarding Guild now,” she said. “You will need to pay me the guild rates for courier deliveries, not the wage I received when I worked for you.”

It took a moment for him to pull himself together. “Of course,” he said. “Are you available to make the delivery tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have adequate protections?”

She didn’t have any charms, but she did have a minotaur. And if the commission was as valuable as the first Maltangku had completed for Yengkima, then having Kachaark at her side would be more beneficial than basic protection pendants. “Yes.”

“Very well. Thank you for your assistance.” He hesitated, then offered her a small bow. “Charchee Nuliyaa.” He used the cane to leverage himself to his feet, then slowly made his way out of the courtyard.

Nuliyaa turned to Kachaark. “Would you like to accompany me while I deliver a package tomorrow?”

He grinned and patted her shoulder with a heavy hand. “See? Reputation.”