“How generous?” Elona asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Erny snapped. “Leesha isn’t for sale like some horse!”

“Of course, of course,” Abban said, bowing to buy himself some time to consider the situation. Erny’s reaction was unexpected, and it was difficult to tell if Abban had given honest offense, or if this was just a haggling tactic to drive up the price.

“Please forgive my poor sense of words,” Abban said. “Your language eludes me at critical times, it seems. I meant no offense.”

Erny seemed mollified at that, and Abban drew his face into the smile that had beguiled thousands of customers into thinking he was their friend. “My master understands that your daughter leads your tribe, and is not some common piece of merchandise,” he said. “He intends her and your tribe great honor, mingling your blood with his own. At his side, your daughter would be first of all the women in the North, and wield influence in both the Deliverer’s court and bed to prevent unnecessary bloodshed as my master comes north.”

“Is that a threat?” Erny demanded. “Are you saying your master will come kill us to take her, if I don’t sell her to you?”

Abban’s face heated. He hadgiven offense, and deeply. The Par’chin had always told him the Krasians were quick to temper, but it seemed the Northerners were no less so if one spoke to them too truly.

Abban bowed deeply, spreading his hands. “Please, my friend, let us begin again. My master makes no threats and wishes to give no offense. Among our people, it is the father’s duty to arrange the marriages of his daughters. Part of the arrangement is that the groom’s family provide the father and bride with dower symbolic of her value. I was given to understand that Northerners shared this custom.”

“We do,” Elona cut in before Erny could reply.

“Some folk might do that sort of thing,” Erny corrected, “but that’s not how I raised my Leesha. Your master wants to marry my girl, he ’ll have to court her just like anybody else, and if she decides she wants him, then he can come and ask my blessing on it.”

It seemed backward to Abban, but it made little difference. He bowed once more. “I will make your terms clear to my master. I expect he will begin to court your daughter immediately.”

Erny’s eyes widened. “I didn’t…ow!” he cried as Elona dug her nails into his arm most unsubtly. Abban noted the move with interest. His wives were by no means docile, but they would never dare unman him so in front of a customer.

“Ent hurtin’ anyone, he comes bringin’ flowers,” Elona said. “You said yourself it’s Leesha’s choice.”

Erny looked at her a long moment, then he sighed and nodded. He took the box cover and slipped it back over Leesha’s paper.

“It’s a heavy box,” he said. “You want me to get a boy to carry it for you?”

Abban bowed. “Please.”

“I think the boys are all busy,” Elona said, “and I could use a stroll. I’ll carry the paper.”

Again Abban was confused. In Krasia, it was expected that women do such labor, but from the way Erny goggled at his wife, Abban could tell he was shocked.

He watched Elona as she came around the counter, taking in her beauty, even with her youth fading. Perhaps she was a pillow-wife, given light work to be kept close at hand should her husband’s lust be aroused. Many Krasian men kept such, but Abban had never tolerated that sort of laziness, expecting his youngest and most beautiful wives to work as hard as the rest.

As they walked down the isolated path from Erny’s shop, Abban turned to her. “I pray to Everam my misunderstanding of your ways gave you and your husband no lasting offense.”

Elona shook her head. “We ent much different from you, only here, fathers approve marriages, but mothers arrange them. Erny ent blessing anything until the dower’s set.”

Abban stopped short, finally understanding. “Of course. I regret that my master’s mother, Kajivah, is still in Everam’s Bounty with his wives. May I negotiate in her stead?”

Elona nodded, but she raised an eyebrow. “He has other wives?”

“Of course,” Abban said. “Ahmann Jardir is the Shar’Dama Ka.”

Elona frowned. “Tell him if he’s wise, he ’ll never so much as mention his other wives to my daughter. Girl gets jealous like a thundercloud.”

Abban nodded. “I will be sure to advise him, thank you. I assume your daughter is a virgin?”

“Course she is,” Elona snapped.

Abban bowed. “Please, take no offense. In Krasia, a man’s First Wife will inspect prospective brides personally, but if that is not your custom, your word will suffice.”

“It sure as the Core ent our custom to let anyone but husbands and Herb Gatherers look between our legs,” Elona said, “so don’t you or your master go getting any ideas about sampling the milk.”

“Of course,” Abban said, nodding and smiling now that the haggling had begun.

Jardir paced his pavilion like an animal, waiting for Abban to return.

“What did he say?” he demanded the moment the khaffit entered the tent. “Is it done?”

Abban shook his head, and Jardir took a deep breath to embrace the disappointment and let it pass through him without harm.

“Mistress Leesha is more like dama’ting than I thought,” Abban said. “She has liberty to choose her own husband, though you must still pay a dower for her father’s blessing.”

“I will pay any price,” Jardir said.

Abban bowed. “So you have said,” he agreed, “but I, your humble servant, have nevertheless begun negotiations to minimize the impact on your treasury.”

Jardir waved his hand dismissively. “So I may approach her directly?”

“Her father has given you permission to court her,” Abban said, and Jardir smiled, snatching up his spear and pausing to check himself in a silvered mirror.

“What will you say to her?” Abban asked.

Jardir looked back at him. “I have no idea,” he said honestly. “But this is Everam’s will, so I trust that whatever I say will be the right thing.”

Abban frowned. “I do not think it works that way, Ahmann.”

Jardir looked at Abban, knowing all the words unspoken. Abban was much like the Par’chin in that regard. Polite. Tolerant. And utterly disbelieving.

Jardir looked at his old friend and felt great pity in his heart, understanding at last what it meant to be khaffit. Everam did not speak to them. Abban might use the Creator’s name in every other sentence, but had never truly heard His voice or felt the rapture of submitting to His divine will. Only profit spoke to Abban, and he would ever be its slave.

But that, too, was part of Everam’s plan, for the khaffit saw things no other man did, things essential to Jardir, if he was to win Sharak Ka.

Jardir put a hand on Abban’s shoulder, smiling sadly. “I know you do not, my friend, but if you do not trust in the Creator, hold faith in me.”

Abban bowed. “Of course. But at the very least, avoid mention of your other wives. Her mother tells me that Mistress Leesha’s jealousy is like a storm.”

Jardir nodded, not surprised in the least that such a woman would know her own worth and expect other women to make way for her. It only made him want her more.

Rojer led his apprentices through their exercises halfheartedly. They had improved a little, but whenever Kendall bent to her fiddle case, he could see the tops of the scars that ran across her chest. A mark of honor demon scars might be, but they were also a reminder to Rojer of just how far his apprentices had yet to come before they could be of any real use in the night. He hoped the instructors from the Jongleurs’ Guild arrived soon.

Across the way, the Cutters trained in the Corelings’ Graveyard. There was plenty of work to be done to build the new greatward, but so long as the Krasians were camped in the clearing, none of the Cutters had any interest in doing it. Gared had groups of them patrolling the town, and the rest had gathered at the graveyard to train and stand ready if needed. Leesha would be furious when she saw the work wasn’t getting done, but even after all she had been through, Leesha was too trusting of people.