CHAPTER 30: HEAVENLY JUDGMENT

  Sultan Atakan’s expansive throne room could have housed the entire population of Acreton within its high walls. There were a few hundred in attendance the day the sultan opened his coffers for new business, many of whom—judging by the varied look of them—had traveled far for the opportunity. Caramel-skinned, tattooed merchants from the jungles of the Southlands stood next to pale-faced, plainly attired traders from the tundra of the United North. They had arrived here from every edge of the Great Continent and every mile in between, ready to make their best pitches.

  From where they stood near the back, Elias examined the room and everyone inside it, eyeing and evaluating his competition, realizing how young they looked by comparison. Age, he had learned, was often felt relative to one’s company, and few traders under the age of twenty had the means to transport valuable Azirian goods across a continent.

  Two of the youngest faces he recognized were familiar ones. Abigail and Edric Graystone were standing near the head of the room to the sultan’s right, a stoic man with a heavy brow looming like a tower between them. Was he their father, Elias wondered? He knew nothing of the senior Mr. Graystone, save for the fact that he was an “old, old-fashioned man” according to his daughter. He was also comparatively pasty, his children having inherited their Azirian complexion from their mother’s side.

  The Graystones were among the first asked to approach the sultan. Abigail had mentioned that her family had a long history with Sultan Atakan going back years, and so Elias assumed they were bidding on new business. Her father did most of the speaking.

  “Your Excellency,” Mr. Graystone said with a generous but familiar nod, his offspring positioned a foot behind him, ready to be called forward at his whim. “Your time is precious, and we shall not waste it. You know how much your business means to The Graystone Company and my family. It is our understanding that civil unrest in Belrania has created security concerns for your empire and its allies, particularly traders such as those in attendance today.” There were many nods. “I will admit the situation affects our business as well. While we cannot employ an entire army to patrol every inch of the Dry Ridge Mountains, we could—with your financial help—operate a well-armed convoy. The convoy would travel back and forth through the mountains once per day. Merchant ships wishing to use the route need only join us on one end and follow us to the other. I dare say we could do this for less than you were paying Belrania. Five thousand relics daily would cover our expenses and compensate us fairly.”

  It was more money in a day than The Two Worlds Trading Company had earned since its inception.

  Sultan Atakan leaned forward in his golden throne. His silken, sky-blue kaftan hung loosely upon a middle-aged body that appeared at once both muscular and slightly out of shape. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, a sapphire ring sizable enough that Elias could discern it from the back of the room glinting in a dust-speckled beam that shone down from the room’s domed skylight. In the early afternoon sun, the reflective monarch sat illuminated, a descendant of the heavens above, or so the effect seemed to imply.

  “A sound solution,” the sultan finally said, “for the time being. Whom shall I credit for this idea, Arthur?” He looked from father to daughter to son.

  Arthur Graystone—this was the first time Elias had learned his full name—cleared his throat and replied, “Technically, it was my daughter who conceived the notion, though Edric and I have since expanded my lovely Abigail’s clever idea into an actionable plan.” Behind their father, neither child looked satisfied with the credit they were given.

  “I will oversee implementation of the convoy, Your Excellency,” Edric inserted himself, the tremble in his voice a little too obvious. When Elias had met Edric back in the winding alleys of the Night Market, he had seemed old for his age (at least in appearance if not in demeanor), but next to his father, the young man was a nervous boy trying to prove himself.

  “Edric and I will ensure the project’s success, as always, with your generous support,” Arthur added flatly with a finishing bow, lest his son speak again.

  Sultan Atakan said nothing more, waving them away and for the next presenters to come forward. Standing tensely between a heavy-breathing Bertrand and a fidgeting Briley, Elias was not sure where in the queue they stood nor when it would be their turn to approach the sultan. He wished they could simply get this part over with. Waiting somehow made it worse. The mixture of emotions he felt in that prolonged purgatory—equal parts dread and anticipation—was a pile without limit, and each new company called upon was adding to the growing mound in his chest.

  He was too young to have a heart attack, he assured himself. Besides, it must have been something he ate for breakfast, his thinking went, because Elias was guided by reason, and his body was acting quite unreasonably. And just as he began to question whether his host had genuinely forgotten or excluded them for reasons he tried and failed to fathom, the sultan uttered the five words they had been waiting two hours to hear: “The Two Worlds Trading Company.”

  It took Elias a moment to register them.

  “Time to impress.” Bertrand shooed them forward, adding under his breath, “I need to piss so badly.”

  All eyes were on the three young traders who made their way through the center of the throne room—on their unfamiliar, uncharacteristically youthful faces. Elias spotted Constance Eve and Lucas Dawnlight standing near the head of the hall, previously out of view. Lucas wished them good luck with his eyebrows, or at least that was how Elias chose to interpret his expression. They could have used an ally right about then.

  Elias, Bertrand, and Briley stopped at the end of a very long golden carpet, looking somewhat stranded at the feet of Sultan Atakan, sitting atop his elevated throne. He nodded and gestured for them to get on with it.

  “Thank you, Your Excellency,” the largest of the teenagers said. They had decided in advance that Bertrand would do most of the speaking. “The Two Worlds Trading Company is a relatively new venture, as you’ve likely surmised, though we already count a number of satisfied clients. We have a fast, reliable airship with a spider’s silk balloon, big enough to deliver spices and black powder or textiles and rugs to Sailor’s Rise.” (Elias traded glances with Edric.) “We’re quick and competitive on cost: twelve hundred relics per shipment would be enough for a lean company like ours. If you would consider us, sir, we’re interested in one of your quarterly contracts. A modest deal for many traders in this room perhaps, but for The Two Worlds Trading Company, your business will be our number one priority.”

  Sultan Atakan scratched his thinly bearded double chin as Elias tried to determine whether he looked bored or deep in thought. “To whom do I speak?” the sultan inquired.

  “The Two Worlds Trading Company,” Bertrand answered.

  “I know your business name. Businesses are window dressing. I work with people. Tell me about yourselves. Where do each of you call home?” He looked at Briley, who most certainly did not wish to go first.

  She swallowed. “Briley Soren, Your Excellency. I grew up in the Broken Isles, but we all live in Sailor’s Rise now.”

  “The Broken Isles.” The sultan spoke of her homeland as if it revealed more to him than anything they had said thus far. “Very far. Very beautiful. Tranquil. Not like Azir. And your other silent partner?” He turned toward Elias.

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  “Elias Vice, sir,” Elias said. “I grew up in Sapphire’s Reach. I moved to Sailor’s Rise a year ago.”

  “With your family?”

  “By myself. My parents are no longer alive.”

  “My condolences. Why uproot your life in Sapphire’s Reach?”

  “I wanted opportunity. I wanted to make something of myself. I met Bertrand and Briley along the way.”

  “Your quest for opportunity has already led you far, I see, though the future is a long road for a young man. And you, the large conversationalist?” The sultan tapped his fingers once again on the arm of his throne.

  “Bertrand Fairweather,” Bertrand said. “Born and raised in Sailor’s Rise.”

  “Fairweather.” Sultan Atakan chewed on that name. “Are you Irvin’s boy?”

  Bertrand had not intended to invoke his family name, despite Elias and Briley insisting that a casual mention of their connection to one of the sultan’s preferred contractors might help their cause. In any event, the decision had been made for him. “I am, Your Excellency. Actually, all of us worked at The Fairweather Company before this. We wanted to build our own business.”

  “I see,” the sultan said. “And who does what at The Two Worlds Trading Company?”

  They had never officially given themselves job titles, though the idea had been broached and shelved for later, for a bigger business that would require clear lines of responsibility. The Two Worlds Trading Company was still in the winging-it stage, and none of them were huge on formalities. It was, alas, a time for formalities.

  “I’m in charge of business development and marketing,” Bertrand said, winging it, “Briley runs operations as efficiently as she speaks, and Elias is our visionary chief proprietor.” The latter was true on paper, but they had never ascribed it any meaning, running the business as equals. For his part, Elias had not assumed that would ever change, or at least the better half of him had never made that assumption.

  “Three green entrepreneurs on a ship called The Sapphire Spirit.” They hadn’t mentioned the name of their vessel, but Sultan Atakan evidently did his homework and had a blade-sharp memory for detail. “I see you haven’t left home entirely behind, Mr. Vice.”

  Elias nearly agreed, until he remembered he had one card left to play. “It was a cat actually,” he lied before he could stop himself.

  “A cat?” The monarch’s elusive interest was visibly piqued.

  “My mother and I named her Sapphire,” Elias went on, still lying. “It was just the two of us growing up, and having a cat around made us feel more like a family. Sapphire passed away before I left. Some might think it silly, but she meant a lot to us, and she was a damn fine cat, Your Excellency. Apologies for my language.”

  The sultan steepled his fingers, his expression utterly unreadable, before leaning back in his throne with a satisfied “Hmph.”

  Elias dared not peer over at his companions, who knew the truth of things, but he did catch the look on Edric’s suddenly furrowed face. And the one beside him. Abigail let loose another smile she couldn’t quite contain, and Elias wondered if there was hope for him yet.

  * * *

  After one last restless sleep in the restless city of Azir, Elias, Bertrand, and Briley had the answer they had come here seeking. Successful bidders were posted on a board in the main hall of the sultan’s palace the next morning and invited to sign their new contracts with Saba Khali.

  Briley spotted their name first, in fine print on the second page: The Two Worlds Trading Company: a quarterly shipment of spices and black powder. But it was Bertrand who broke their collective silence with an excited noise that sounded almost like—but was not, in fact—a real word. In his defense, he was out of practice. They had barely spoken to one another all morning, fearful of stirring false hope or that the wrong utterance might jinx them. They had been stuck in suspended animation since Elias had weaved that tall tale about a cat that never existed, debating whether that final touch would put them over the line or if, somehow, their intrepid chief proprietor would be found out. Elias had insisted there were no Azirian spies in Acreton.

  In any event, their innumerable worries were now firmly behind them. They met with Saba after waiting in another taxing queue, this one zigzagging through hallways like the answer to a maze. Huddled like athletes over the master of coin’s marble desk, the tired traders read their new contract together, not that they would consider contesting its contents.

  “Your first shipment will be in a month’s time,” Saba explained, “then once per season henceforth. If the schedule changes, you will be notified in advance by letter.” They had used Bertrand’s home address on the contract, having determined that, compared to Elias and Briley’s present accommodation, the Fairweather estate was least susceptible to eviction, arson, and robbery.

  “The sultan can terminate this contract whenever he likes, but you may not,” Saba continued. “Before you leave, I have two more things for you. First, a deposit of six hundred relics, half the fee for your first shipment.” She retrieved a bronze cash box from a pile of similar boxes behind her desk, unlocked it with a key she handed Briley, and twirled its open side toward them. “You’ll receive the rest when you return next month along with another deposit for your next delivery, assuming we continue our business.”

  They nodded gleefully, Elias tipsy at the sight of so much money, their money. Every fiber of his being begged him to reach forward and scoop out the contents of that cash box into a mountain of coin. He imagined relics trickling between his fingers, the feeling of finally letting them all pour, as he kept his hands to himself and waited for the second thing.

  Saba was smirking. Elias feared she had somehow read his mind—his juvenile thoughts—but the master of coin had a better reason for her subdued merriment, and that reason was the second thing. “The sultan was deeply moved by your story, Elias.” She snapped her fingers and a door opposite the one they had entered opened to a large man cradling a small, cow-print cat.

  The man walked over, carrying the feline.

  “This one doesn’t get along with the other cats,” Saba said, “but she enjoys the company of certain humans, and the sultan believes she would thrive in a quieter home away from the palace—with caring owners who will give her all the attention she deserves, of course.”

  The man handed the cat to Elias, who hesitated before accepting the pet. He had not held many cats, despite his recent claim to the contrary.

  “What’s her name?” Bertrand asked, seemingly unbothered by the great, unexpected responsibility that had been bestowed upon them.

  “Whatever you decide to call her,” Saba replied.

  “She looks young.”

  “Six months, give or take. It was time for this one to find her forever home. I trust you’ll take excellent care of her.”

  Briley reached over and introduced herself to the animal with a gentle chin scratch. “We will,” she said. “You can trust us.”

  * * *

  Briley was clinging to their cash box like an organ that might otherwise slip out of her body as Elias carried their new cat like an absent father. Bertrand was strolling between them, arms free and blissfully pleased. On their way past the tavern where they had spent their last night in Azir, Briley seemed distracted. “Hold this for a moment.” She handed Bertrand the cash box. “Don’t drop it.” She sprinted into the bar.

  “What’s that about?” Bertrand asked a shrugging Elias.

  She returned a few minutes later, cool as a cucumber, but the pixie-looking tavern keeper they recalled for her fanciful theories on wine instantly shattered the defenses of their carefully armored friend. The short woman pulled Briley around before she could leave and, standing on the tips of her toes, kissed her on the lips.

  How quickly the cucumber turned into a tomato.

  “She seems nice,” Bertrand mentioned as he handed back the cash box, which Briley squeezed against her chest even more tightly than before.

  Elias, too, was happy for her, though Abigail inevitably invaded his thoughts. He kept one eye open for her as they headed to the port, luggage in tow, ready for the long, hopefully less perilous journey home.

  “Do we need to pick up anything for the cat?” Elias asked. “I’ve never owned a cat.”

  “Clearly,” Briley said, armor back on. “She’ll be fine with food scraps and a bowl of water. We should collect some sand before we go.”

  “Sand?” Elias cocked an eyebrow, not that sand would be difficult to acquire in Azir.

  “She isn’t going to use one of our chamber pots. Trust me. I had a cat growing up.”

  “I’m pretty sure The Sapphire Spirit has a few resident rodents,” Bertrand added helpfully. “This little devil may yet earn her keep and a few extra meals. We should probably name her, right? Something better than Cat. I’m creatively depleted at the moment.”

  “I’m sure a name will come to us,” Elias said.

  Briley, meanwhile, glanced over at their new feline crew member as they boarded The Sapphire Spirit, slowly loosening her vice grip on the cash box. They had only themselves and a cow-print cat to load today, but soon enough they would be back in Azir to collect their biggest, most valuable shipment yet.

  Elias left the animal inside their great cabin with a bowl of water (and some hastily procured sand), then fired the cobrium engine as Bertrand untied the last few ropes still anchoring The Sapphire Spirit to its pier. Briley held the wheel.

  And as their ship began its gradual ascent, they gathered on the bow to wave goodbye to the sprawling metropolis now shrinking beneath them. In his charmingly assured way, Bertrand hung his arms across their shoulders and proclaimed, “We had an airship before, my friends, but now we are truly a business.”