Page 78 of The Lost Reliquary
Caerula.
Paling, Tychus takes a fearful step back. “Ramiro, what are—”
“Shut up,” says the man, Ramiro. “It real?”
Machias nods slowly. “I believe so. But—”
“Oh, Tychus,” croons Ramiro, not waiting for Machias to finish. “Tch, tch, tch… youshouldknow better. Should have come to me as soon as you found out what your new friend had. But instead… well, greed always gets the best of you, doesn’t it?”
Tychus throws up his hands. “Ramiro, wait, this is different. He said he could get more… Once I’d confirmed with Machias that was the truth, the first thing I would have done was make sure you were cut in—”
“Shut,” Ramiro snaps, “your mouth.” Tychus obeys. “If I want your runny horseshit, I’ll ask for it. It’s bad enough you’re back in the city at all, but this? Oh, I know. You think all your ‘friends’ here will keep your secrets no matter how often you exaggerate or fail to deliver. Maybe you’ve managed something worthwhile this time, but you’ve already long overspent that coin.”
“Excuse me,” Nolan interjects, entirely collected despite the unraveling situation. “We came here to conduct business. While I recognize you have your issues with Tychus, there’s no reason they should extend to us. If your organization receives its due in transactions like this, I’m sure we can work something out.”
Machias shakes his head. “He’s lying.”
Ramiro frowns. “You said it was real.”
“It is. He’s lying about where it came from.” Machias’s glare is so intense that it makes me itch, as if he can see through the fabric of my cloak. But there’s worry beneath it, a concerned uncertainty. “That box—I know it. It’s from our usual supplier. But these two are not their couriers. They’re thieves… or worse.”
Shit.There it is. Confirmation that this little meeting has gone fully tits up. I guess my fifty-fifty estimation of a murder attempt tonight was optimistic. My hands itch for my sickles, but I stay calm, giving Nolan a chance to charm our way out of this.
“Disappointing.” He sounds as if he’s been told they’re out of his favorite pastry. “I came here to make a deal, not be accused of theft. Tychus assured me that despite not coming through known channels, these items would be in high demand.”
“Oh, we’ll definitely take them.” Ramiro is obviously pleased. “That’s a good payday there.”
Machias bristles. “This is more serious than I expected. If they’ve stolen—”
“For fuck’s sake, Machias,” Ramiro groans. “What does it matter if your supplier wasn’t as careful as they should have been? The Salt Sects will still get to suckle the teat of their Goddess; you’ll still make your profit selling to them. But this time you’ll pay that filth’s value, not our usual cut to look the other way.”
“Ramiro, listen to me. What if someonesentthem here?” Okay, Machias is no fool.
This gives Ramiro pause, though Machias doesn’t elaborate on who that “someone” might be. It’s clear Ramiro and the Caerula are involved with what gets smuggled into Cyprene, but I’m starting to wonder if they have any idea of what else Machias is involved in. Nolan keeps stone-still, probably chewing on the same question, and our predicament. The path to the reliquary lies through Machias. But Ramiro currently stands in the way. And I doubt he plans to claim the Renderers’ wares and let us take a walk.
This is going to be tricky. There are at least ten Caerula I see, probably more that I don’t—too many for my liking, even if they have no ideawhat they are up against. They’re closing in slowly, swords and knives glinting.
“You’d satisfy yourself with pocket change?” Nolan addresses the Caerula leader, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Because it sounds to me what Machias objects to is no longer having full control over supply. I’m offering you this and more… much more. With my help, you—everyone here—could be richer than you ever imagined.”
Machias frowns. “Another lie.”
“Or not,” Nolan challenges. “Because you suspect I can deliver what I promise. Which makes me wonder… Ramiro, are you certain you always get your fair share of what Machias imports to Cyprene?”
It’s a smart move, trying to cast doubt, spread temptation—to Ramiro and beyond—but a quick snort of laughter makes it clear the attempt is futile.
“Legitimate or not, you really don’t understand how it works here, do you?” Ramiro says. “Unlike Tychus, I’m satisfied by a little bit of greed. Enough to keep my pockets full, not so much to draw attention from the mainland.”
Damn.We wanted overly ambitious heretics. Instead, we get under-ambitious common criminals.
“Whoever you are… if someone sent you…” Ramiro shrugs. “People disappear in Cyprene all the time. Hand over the box,” he instructs, flashing a cruel grin, “and we can finish this up, quick and easy. Promise you won’t feel a thing.”
Nolan doesn’t move. Neither do I.
But the Caerula step closer, tightening the ring around us.
“I’ll get it from her,” Tychus squeaks, desperate to regain some small favor, save himself.
“No need.” I step forward, holding the betraying, but not terribly sturdy, box high. “Don’t come any closer, though. Or I’ll smash your good payday here all over the cavern floor.”
