Dragon Bones (The Dragonwalker Book 1) Read online

  “You only come when you need something.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it. Besides, you say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not a bad thing, but…” Tracen shook his head. “What do you need?”

  “A dagger.”

  “A dagger? I could make you a sword. That’s infinitely more valuable than a dagger. I wouldn’t even charge you that much for it.”

  “Because you already have dozens of swords.”

  “I have plenty, but that doesn’t mean that they weren’t time-consuming to make. Everything that I create takes time. I put everything that I can into it, so it doesn’t matter how long it takes to create.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing.”

  “You weren’t, but too many have and complain about the pace with which I make the swords. What can I say? I know how to work efficiently.”

  “Which is why I’m asking you for a dagger. I need something that will fit my sheath,” he said, pulling the sheath off his belt, “and I need something with a sturdy blade. It doesn’t have to be ornate or even all that fancy.”

  “And why?”

  “I lost one.”

  “One of your daggers?”

  Fes nodded. “When I was chasing the bone for Azithan. I lost one.”

  “And since you’re coming here, it seems as if he paid for what you’ve lost.”

  Fes flashed a smile. “You are the best.”

  “I am. And it would be helpful if you would spread that rumor a little more to get me more business.”

  “I don’t think you’re hurting for business.”

  Tracen looked around the shop. With all of the items that he had stacked up, Fes could tell that Tracen remained busy. Maybe too busy. Would he have time to make the dagger?

  “I’m getting to the point where I need to bring on someone else.”

  There it was. The comment he’d made about honest work finally made sense. “I’m not looking for work,” Fes said.

  “The offer is there.”

  “I like what I do. I’m good at it.”

  “You like what you do because you get to be by yourself. You don’t have to be. It’s okay for you to care about someone other than—“

  Fes raised his hand, cutting off Tracen. “Can you make me a dagger or not?”

  “I’ll make you a dagger. It will be the nicest damned dagger that you’d ever imagine.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  “When do you need it by?”

  Fes shrugged. “I haven’t got another job, not yet. How long do you need?”

  “Considering the quality that you’d be looking for, probably a couple days? I guess that means you need to avoid getting into a fight.”

  Fes slipped the other dagger out of his sheath and flipped it forward before sliding it back into the sheath. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Okay. With just that one? If I didn’t know better, I would think that you were practically naked.”

  “Sometimes it feels like that.”

  “You plan to pay?”

  “How much do you need for the dagger?”

  “Normally I charge two silver rasn for something like that, but I could get by with charging you just one.”

  Fes flipped a gold coin to Tracen. He caught it before it came crashing down into one of the flames. “Keep the rest. I’m sure I’ll have something else I’ll need from you.”

  “He really does have you well paid, doesn’t he?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t even care how much you’re spending on daggers. I could make you three for that price.”

  “Then make me three.”

  Tracen grinned and stuffed the gold coin into his pocket. “No. I think I’ll stick with just the one. Besides, would you do with three daggers?”

  “Be three times as safe.”

  “It’s not you that I worry about. It’s everyone else.”

  “No one else has any reason to worry about me.”

  “They do if you run around with three daggers.” As Fes started to leave, Tracen called out to him. “Don’t forget the offer.”

  “How can I forget it?”

  Tracen grinned, and Fes left the shop, heading back into the chaos of the city to see if he could chase down his dagger.

  Chapter Three

  The entrance to the market was less busy at this time of night. Fes watched, debating whether to reenter, but decided to just sit outside and watch for signs of the priest. He’d feared that finding him would be difficult in a city the size of Anuhr, but a priest did stand out. Thankfully Azithan had paid him well enough to buy information.

  He shouldn’t have come after the priest, but regardless of what Azithan said, the dagger mattered to him. Losing it would be like losing his parents all over again.

  It was late and other than the moon, there was very little light. A faint wind blew through, swirling around his hair and his jacket, casting a cooler air to the night and carrying the market’s exotic smells of spices and treats and dozens of other things that were not typically found in Anuhr.

  Searching the market for the priest wouldn’t be easy, but what did he have other than time, especially now that he had to wait on Tracen to make him a dagger? Besides, it wasn’t that he had a job waiting for him, and if he discovered what the priest was after, he didn’t doubt that Azithan would pay.

  A group of men headed toward the market. Fes caught up to them, staying barely a pace or two behind them, but close enough that it would appear to an outsider that he belonged with that group. They were chatting about activity in the palace, and about women that they knew, but there was a comment that caught him.

  “They’re moving troops north, I hear.”

  “That’s nothing but a rumor,” one of the men said.

  “There’s a rebellion.”

  “There’s always a rebellion. The emperor has ruled long enough that there is always someone who thinks to remove him from power.”

  One of the other men hushed him, but the speaker looked over. “It’s not like I’m saying that I want to overthrow the emperor. Skies of Fire! Why would I want something like that?”

  “You need to be careful with those sorts of comments. It’s bound to get you into…” The man turned and seemed to notice Fes. His eyes widened slightly, and Fes flashed a smile. He doubted that it made him look any less threatening. He was tall—taller than many, though there were plenty of people in the city who were taller than him. Time spent running around had made him fit and muscular, which the cloak he wore obscured.

  He didn’t want to have these men questioning his presence, so he turned away and headed toward the nearest tent. Lights glowed from each of the tents along the street. Trading would go on all night, maximizing each trader’s time in the city. Eventually, they would go and would be replaced by another. It had been that way for centuries. The Great Market constantly changing, constantly churning, and the merchants within it always changing over.

  He found a tent that had more activity than most, and he stepped inside. Rows of tables were set up, and jewelry and linens and pottery were on the table. Why would this tent be so appealing to so many people?

  When he saw the merchant, he thought that he understood. The man had dark skin and tight curly black hair, and the colorful jacket he wore practically shouted that he came from Toulen. It was the nation to their western border, and goods that came from there were often prized.

  Fes scanned the table, looking at the various artifacts. The jewelry was interesting. Most of it was beaded and painted with bright colors, much like the Bayars’ tent. Some appeared to be carved out of bone, and one necklace had a large horn hanging from it, likely the tusk of some strange animal found only in Toulen. The stone carvings were incredibly intricate and made in strange poses with people set as if they were praying or with arms out as if trying to balance. Fes was drawn to one such sculpture and lifted it, finding the stone incredibly slick and smoo
th.

  “What do you think of the totem?”

  He looked up to see the merchant watching him. The man had dark brown eyes that were surprisingly warm. His voice carried the rhythmic accent of his people. Fes had interacted with the people of Toulen several times before and had always been treated fairly. Even in Anuhr, that was unusual.

  “It’s incredible craftsmanship.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You made this?”

  The merchant spread his hands out, motioning to the table. “I made all of this.”

  That surprised him. Oftentimes, merchants would band together, consolidating so that they could bring an entire tent worth of items to the Great Market. Very rarely was a single merchant responsible for everything inside it. Then again, given the distance from Toulen, it was possible that he had taken the entire journey to make most of these items. And it would likely be worth it. A man like this, with items such as what Fes saw here, would be able to sell out of his supplies quickly, likely earning enough money to more than make it worth it to have ventured this far.

  “What’s the significance of the pose?”

  The man smiled as he stepped closer to the table. He paused and looked around the tent, but others seemed content with merely wandering around the tables, browsing as they scanned the items. “There is much significance to each totem. Some are designed for luck.” He plucked one of the sculptures, this out of a brown stone with the figurine appearing to kneel. “Others are designed for goodwill.” This one was a figurine with the hands clasped together, bowing. “And still others are designed for strength.” He pointed to the one Fes held.

  This one had the arms outstretched, and Fes wondered why it would be symbolic of strength. There was nothing about it that screamed strength, but perhaps it meant something to the people of Toulen.

  “You strike me as a man who doesn’t need strength.”

  Fes replaced the totem back on the table, chuckling. “Who doesn’t need strength?”

  “Most men would benefit from wisdom.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “Are you saying you have enough wisdom?”

  Fes looked up and met the man’s eyes. The man smiled at him, and Fes couldn’t help but smile back. “I don’t know that many would accuse me of wisdom.”

  “Then why do you have no need?”

  “It’s not that I don’t have the need, it’s just that I’m not sure I’m a fit for wisdom.”

  “Ah, well that is entirely different. Perhaps with your understanding of that, you have shown more wisdom than most.”

  Fes motioned to one of the totems. It seemed the figurine was twisted, as if ready to spin. “What of this one?”

  “That is one that calls for blessing with fighting.”

  Fes smiled to himself. “That’s the kind of thing I could use.”

  “You find yourself fighting?”

  “More often than I want.”

  “You don’t have to embrace a life of violence. The Great Ones know that each of us can choose our own path.”

  “It’s a little late for me to be choosing my path.”

  “So you allow another to choose it for you?”

  “Not that, either. I’m just saying—“

  The man smiled again. “I don’t mean to challenge you. It’s just that these totems are meant to help with reflection. And if you find that you need strength with fighting, then perhaps you do, but perhaps if you feel that you don’t need wisdom, it’s possible that might be a better fit for you.”

  Fes looked along the table, and as he did, he saw a man grabbing one of the items, and slipping it into his pocket.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” he said. He stepped away from the merchant and headed toward the younger man. “I saw that,” he said behind him. “Most of the time, I probably wouldn’t care, but…” He liked the Toulen merchant. Not that it mattered to the man, but it mattered to Fes.

  The man turned, and he glowered at Fes. “Move.”

  “Is it worth your hand?”

  The man continued to glare at Fes and tried to push past him.

  “Is it worth your hand?” Fes asked again.

  “You don’t look like you serve the Dragon Emperor, so you would have no authority.”

  Fes smiled at the man. If only he knew. “No, but the people of Toulen have harsh rules for thieves. And in the Great Market, thieving is left to the individual merchant to determine how to deal, depending on culture and custom. I will ask you again: Do you value your hand?”

  The man tried to push past him again, and this time Fes grabbed him by the wrist, spinning him around, and dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling the carving out and setting it back on the table. He checked his other pockets but didn’t find anything else. When he was done, he pushed the man away from him, sending him staggering from the tent.

  The merchant watched the entire thing with only a hint of amusement on his face.

  “I haven’t taken a hand in many years,” he said. “Perhaps I should take yours for stealing my prize.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t want the hassle of reporting it to the emperor,” Fes said. That was the only requirement, though few enough bothered to report it. For that matter, few enough bothered to report thieving at all. It likely happened frequently in the Great Market, but there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done to prevent it.

  “Then I should thank you. Perhaps you have shown more wisdom than you believe of yourself.”

  Fes snorted. “That’s unlikely.” He looked down at the carving, wondering what the man might have grabbed that would have been so interesting. It was a sculpture of a dragon, and incredibly detailed. It was carved out of a reddish stone or possibly an incredibly dense wood. Either way, the carving was smooth, sanded or stropped so that it was silky to the touch. The dragon had its wings parted, spread out, and the four legs were arched, almost as if preparing to pounce.

  “Did you make this as well?”

  “Not that. That didn’t come from here.”

  Fes squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I grabbed the wrong item.” Where had the man hidden the totem?

  “It’s likely that was stolen as well. I can speak to the guards and send word to the Dragon Emperor.”

  Fes shook his head. “It’s not necessary. I know someone who can see that the merchant is compensated.” He suspected that for a sculpture like this, Azithan would be happy to pay, and likely more than the sculpture was worth. If nothing else, Azithan was more than happy to spend the emperor’s money.

  “How much for the sculpture for wisdom?” he asked.

  The Toulen man studied him for a moment. “I think that perhaps you would be better served by something like this,” he said pulling a different totem from the table. It was one where the pose indicated movement, though as Fes stared at it, he wasn’t entirely sure why he felt that way. Something about the totem tugged on him, almost as if he was meant to have it.

  “What is this one for?”

  “There are many possible benefits for this totem, but in your case, I think that it is perhaps for insight.”

  He arched a brow at the man. “Are you saying I lack insight?”

  “Many of us lack insight, but what I suggest is that you would benefit from looking inward. We can all use a certain measure of self-discovery.”

  “And how much?”

  “Consider it my gift.”

  “But I didn’t stop the thief.”

  “You didn’t, but you tried. To the people of Toulen, that is often just as valuable.”

  Fes took the sculpture and twisted it in his hand. He didn’t have many belongings, and certainly nothing quite like this. “Thank you.”

  The sound of chanting came from outside the tent, and Fes turned, frowning.

  “They often come through here after dusk,” the merchant said.

  “Often?” Fes asked, turning to him. It was surprising that the merchant from Toulen would know what happened in the market
often. “How long have you been here?”

  “Two weeks. Long enough to have recognized a pattern. The priests lead people through here.”

  That might be why the priest had returned to the market. They wouldn’t be quite a tolerated in the rest of the city, but in the Great Market, few would object to the presence of priests. “I’m surprised that you would have been here quite so long.”

  “Items sell quickly, but they are replaceable, and I have plenty of product,” the merchant said with a smile. “Besides, I have to be prepared for when thieves decide to dip into my supplies.” The merchant chuckled. “Thank you.”

  “Thanks to you, as well.”

  Fes reached the entrance to the tent, peeking his head outside. A priest led a line of people through the market, but not the one he looked for. Several of the people walking with the priest carried lanterns while others carried torches, and they all held them up, letting the fire and the flame glow in the night. It pushed back the darkness, the same way they believed the dragons once pushed back the darkness.

  Fools, all of them. When the dragons had lived, they would have been terrible creatures, and there were plenty of stories of the dragons hunting and destroying cities, not pushing back the darkness or helping those less fortunate, not the way the priests seemed to believe. It was better the fire mages now used their magic for defense of the Arashn Empire.

  The entire line moved past, and Fes stayed off to the side of the road, not wanting to get into the middle of the procession. He had never seen anything quite like it, but there was an element of ceremony to it. Others joined as the procession moved through, trailing after them, and their chanting added to that of the others.

  It wasn’t led by the priest he looked for, but maybe he could lead him to the other.

  Fes weaved around a series of tents, coming between them as he tried to get ahead of the procession, wanting to watch. If he could see them, see where they were going, he thought that he could perhaps discover where the priest had gone.

  They made their way to the edge of the market, and from there they stepped out into the empty plains. At night, there was something eerie about the darkness and the emptiness of the plain. Shadows swirled around the gathered wagons, and the horses that were corralled stomped and occasionally made snorting sounds that disrupted the quiet.