He was a man made powerful by wealth, stout but not flabby, with his uncut hair braided and looped back in a man's threefold at his neck and shoulders.
Master Feden made no greeting, but walked slowly around the table while the clerk made a running tally and checked it against Keshad's accounts book. The pen scraped in the silence. Outside, the sun's light baked the stone plaza, seen beyond the thick posts where, soon, the slaves would unroll the cloth awnings over the wooden porch. So had Keshad done twelve years ago, when he was a lad sold into Master Feden's service. Unroll the awnings; close the windows; haul water; beat carpets; sweep and rake and look away when some clumsy soul got a hard cuff on the cheek for moving too slowly or simply for looking at a customer the wrong way or any way. Watch the massage girl you fancied be traded away for a mare. Listen as your young friend cried when he discovered he had missed the debt payment and was indentured for another year, during which new debts for food, drink, oil, pallet space, training costs, and interest would accrue, with more added on if you got sick or injured and a healer had to be brought in from the temple.
Pride, swallowed so many times, became a rock in the chest, and it had filled him with stone.
'Impressive,' said Master Feden, with a contemptuous smile that made Kesh want to slap him because Feden never began his haggling with a compliment. 'I congratulate you, Keshad. You have the gift. We need only set a price.'
'As I carried all my possessions with me, no holding space was required for my goods while I was gone, which means the debt set against my freedom in addition to interest accruing on the regulated basis during my absence stands at five hundred and eighty-seven leya,' said Kesh immediately. 'Am I correct?'
Master Feden nodded at the clerk.
She tallied. 'Yes, that's right.'
'The goods you see before you are easily worth twice that on the market. But I offer them, to you, in exchange for the rest of my debt. Which is a bargain for you, Master Feden.'
The master picked up a comb studded with whitestone and walked to the windows to peer at the subtle wash of colors that, Kesh knew, played beneath the surface of the stones. With his broad back to Kesh, he spoke. 'I'm surprised you act in such haste. I wish to offer you a post in my firm.'
The clerk actually gasped.
'You have promise. You've shown it time and again. I'll free the massage girl-what is her name? — the one you show particular attention to, although we had to have the herb woman in a month or two after you left to rid her of what she caught in her belly. I've been thinking of trading her debt to Mistress Bettia, who has a pair of fine embroidered couches my dear wife has been coveting, but I'll reconsider if you'll take her in marriage-both of you free-and sign a contract to trade for my firm-fifty-fifty percentages, we'll say-for ten years.'
The clerk's mouth had dropped open, and this time she looked at Kesh and then at the master's back. She ceased writing, waiting for his response.
He rested his hands on the rim of the table. All that restless energy fell away. He was clear and sharp and clean and perfect in his clarity.
'The rest of my debt. Which is a bargain for you, Master Feden.'
'Stubborn until the end.' He returned to the table. He had fleshy hands and sausage fingers, but a delicate touch as he set the comb down into its nest of silk. 'Very well. Settled.'
The clerk stood stunned, gaping at Kesh as though he had been revealed as a deadly lilu.
'Record it!' Feden snapped with a burst of impatient fury that made the poor clerk flinch. 'I have a meeting to attend. I must leave now!'
She spattered ink, blotted it up, and began scratching with her head bent in concentration and her shoulders hunched in case a blow came. But she was Sapanasu's hierophant, not Feden's slave. If he hit her, he would have to pay a fine to the temple.
Kesh lowered his hands to his side and tried not to twitch. Outside, a pair of lads stumped past; the awning creaked and dropped as they unrolled it. At once, the light through the windows muted to a less intense gold.
The clerk set down the accounts book. Feden glanced over the final entry, then made his mark. She turned it, and Kesh counted up the merchandise, saw that everything displayed on the table was accounted for, and with the pen marked the quartered moon that served as his seal.
'Sapanasu gives her blessing,' said the clerk. 'And her curse to any who turn their backs on what they have sworn in her name. Let it be marked and sealed.'
'Let it be marked and sealed,' said Feden with a smirk.
'Let it be marked and sealed.' Keshad extended a hand. 'My accounts book. It's mine now, free and clear.'
Feden lifted a hand, still smirking. He had rosy lips almost hidden within his luxuriant growth of beard and mustache. 'We have other business. There's a wagon and pair in one of my bays, and water taken from my trough. Stabling costs must be paid. With coin, or in labor.' He chortled.
Out in the hall, a door slammed.
What a fool he was! Kesh discovered his hands in fists and his skin flushed with heat. The clerk, seeing his expression, fell back a step. But he refused to move. He had meant to specify that the stabling charges be included in the final reckoning. Haste is its own trap. He had fixed the bait and walked into it himself. Damn damn damn.
After taking four breaths as Feden watched with intense amusement, he spoke in a flat voice. 'The usual stabling fee in Olossi includes hay, grain according to the nature of the beast, and twice watering. For one night, one leya or a day's labor in exchange. I have not been in this yard one night, nor has the pair under hire taken more than one watering. But I'll accept one leya as a fair charge.'
'I am not a public stableyard. Nor do I charge piecemeal, but only by the night. My premises are more secure, indeed, you have now invaded them as an outsider, someone not of my clan or family and with no other claim or right for biding within my clearinghouse, so that will cost extra. And you know my policy about those cursed Southerners. I hate them, the thick-witted fanatics that they are, keeping women like sheep and slaves like pigs. I hear they say that once a man becomes a slave it's the god's doing, and he and any children or grandchildren he may ever quicken through his loins are marked forever with the slave's brand and can never again or any they marry become free men. So because of my distaste for such a person, and the cleaning I'll have to have my servants do after he's left the yard to wash away any stink he's left, I'll have to charge triple my usual fee. He comes under your hire, I believe. Nine leya. Or eighteen days' labor out of you, at the going rate, plus of course I'll have to charge you lodging and for your food for that time if you remain here to do the labor. And you'll have to stay here-you're obligated to do so-in case you choose to run to escape your debt. Three leya a day for lodging and food, to accrue while you work, unless you want to eat more than once a day, in which case a fourth leya for the second meal.'
'It's true,' said the clerk with a kind of dazed fascination, watching the exchange. 'Sapanasu's law supports Master Feden's claim against you, on both counts.'
'You cheating dog,' said Keshad softly. 'Nine leya is an outrage. As is three leya a day for costs.'
'Not in my house. I do not run a roadside shelter offering a plank floor to sleep on and nai porridge for supper. Do not think I gloat over your mistake, Keshad. I am a man of business. I must protect myself and my house.'
'You want me back. But I'm no longer your slave.'
'Do you expect me to believe you have any coin left after that trip? Have you paid up that southern driver? All your expenses? And yet you cast your throw so carelessly. I trained you better than that.'
Kesh let Feden keep talking. Indeed, he savored it, for the man did love to talk and did always believe himself to know more than others could.
'Sign on with me, and the stabling charge will be placed on your first accounts book as a junior partner. I'll still throw in the girl. For nothing. As a gesture of good faith. Otherwise, I fear me, Keshad, you'll be falling behind again. And if I choose not to allow you another trading venture, I am not one bit sure how you will overcome the debt.'
Kesh smiled. For the first time, Feden faltered, mouth pursing with doubt. Kesh slid a hand into the pouch sewn into his sleeve, careful to hide how much coin he had on his strings. He drew off nine precious leya, weighed them in his hand, and placed them each, individually, with a snap on the table. Feden's eyes widened.
'One night, two waterings, hay and grain,' Kesh said politely to the clerk. It was hard not to gloat, even if he was furious at himself for losing these leya through carelessness. He had better uses for the money. 'I'd like to get
