“The time then. Fair enough.”
“Tola, what—”
“You’ll shut it, Clois. This woman knows her business and you’ve overstepped.”
“The fuck she does, I—”
He slapped Clois across the side of her head and stared at her with eyes to melt ice. The large woman was made quiet, as was the crowd. Tola nodded his head away and Clois left the platform to him and the captain.
“You’ve my apologies captain. She does good work, but her eyes are better than her mind. Casúr does not conduct business this way. That said, I cannot allow you to offload cargo without inspection.”
“So then you’ve simply made a show of your authority to tell me more of the same.”
Tola held up a finger and the woman held her tongue but her face made it clear she was not pleased to do so.
“I’d suggest you let me finish. One of mine has done you wrong, but she did as I told and I’ll not punish her for that anymore than I’ll reward you. This dock is for high priority cargo. There’s a reason my numbers man flagged you for this slip. You’ll give us…” Tola pulled some papers from behind his apron and looked them over. “Two days. Keep your men at whatever inn you choose. Room and board’ll be paid for, a room each. And we’ll supply…” He paused again to consider the papers. “Ten barrels of provisions. Wine, pork, five of each or whatever your needs dictate.”
The captain narrowed her gaze. “Two days?”
“Aye. I’ll pull fifty of my best and fifty more from the far docks. They’ll work the nights as well. I won’t barter, take it or scuttle your cargo in the sea.” He held his hand out.
“It’s fair.” The captain shook on the deal and turned, shouting up to her crew. “Grab your shit and clear out, you louts. Rack and meat. Anyone what takes longer than I like’s on night watch ‘til we reach home.” The words almost sounded as though they came from a different woman. Rianaire had to stop herself from laughing.
The captain began climbing up to her ship and Tola shifted through his papers, mumbling to himself. Rianaire climbed the platform, speaking as she went.
“You comported yourself well.”
“Gave her more than I’d like but…” Tola looked up and grimaced. “Sisters be good, I was hoping it was one of Mion’s games again. And I ought to mind my tongue. Welcome Treorai. I hope the smell and the sound haven’t been entirely unbearable.”
“The sounds are no worse than I hear in brothels. The smells, however, are considerably worse.” She looked up at the ship. “But you’ve made a statement that piques my curiosity. More than you’d like?”
Tola looked up at the ship as well. “Aye. I know the ship, heard of the captain. Even if I hadn’t, any name that coveted warrants a closer look. She’s been sailing near as long as Clois’s been alive. Century and a half almost.”
“That boat?” She could see just the slightest weathering.
“That’s the truth of it. There’s a reason she looks as she does. Her captain’s a fastidious woman, fair. Respected enough that if we gave her trouble undue, Casúr’d see less trade for our troubles. Word spreads along the routes. Sailors are terrible for gossip.”
“It seems a popular pastime.”
“Pitiable. But you have business with me. If you’ll permit me, we might talk after I’ve handed orders to Aistrím. I expect he directed you here.”
“You expect right.”
“I’ll see him and meet you…”
“There was a shop just nearby. Selling cakes and the like. I believe you will find us there. I could stand some pleasing smells.”
Tola nodded. “I know the place. Won’t be a moment.”
He ran off as soon as they had turned to make for the shop. It sat just up a small hill away from the docks. Rianaire entered and the shop owner called from the back.
“Sit yourself anywhere you like. I’ll be just there.”
Rianaire took a seat, choosing a table tucked into the corner of the shop with four chairs. Inney and Síocháin flanked her.
“Well, he seems a competent man,” Rianaire said.
“In his job, at least.” Síocháin shifted the tiny plates on the table.
The shopkeep came out from the back holding a tray with tea and cups. “How many will you be?”
“Four.”
“Very good, I…” She stopped dead when she lowered the tray. “I… I… I… Your…”
“Hello,” Rianaire said smiling. “I promise I do not bite. Well, possibly untrue. It depends how taken I am with your cakes.”
“Treorai. Wel… welcome. My humble shop…”
“Oh, no, no. Come now. We haven’t come for you to prostrate yourself. We’ve come for cakes. And after the awful stink of the docks, I should say we are most excited, are we not?”
She looked at Inney who replied. “Cake sounds delightful.” Her mask smiling, eyes closed, up at the woman.
The shopkeep did her best to keep her composure but her eyes darted around constantly as she laid the teapot on the table and the cups and saucers after. “Four, you said?”
“I did. Tola will be joining us. From the docks.”
“Yes, I… I know him. Know of him. He does not frequent the shop.”
“More fool him, I say. Perhaps I shouldn’t make him Binse of Coin.” She leaned on the table and looked up at the woman, taking her in. She was just middle-aged, light hair and dark eyes and breasts made all the bigger by her slight podge. “Tell me, are you good with numbers?”
The woman laughed nervously. “Sisters, no. No. I can hardly keep books on this place. Oh… menus. We… I’ll be right back with them.”
While the woman was away seeing to menus, Tola joined them in the shop. He had changed quickly and, curiously, did not stink of rot and seawater. He wore a smart overcoat and a
