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Seth said, “I’m looking for a trader named Jamil.”
“That jumped-up young desert dog? Thinks he is suddenly too good for us folk of the bazaar. As if I didn’t once swat his bottom for stealing figs from my tree.”
“And what makes him think so highly of himself all of a sudden?”
“One lucky trade and he is strutting about like a sultan.”
Seth breathed a sigh of relief. This didn’t confirm that Julian had been in Shalaa, but it gave Seth hope that his guess was correct. The arcane scope cinched into Seth’s utility belt had caught his eye in Demir’s bustling market four days ago. It was a rare and valuable item, something that had likely been owned by a prince—or an arcanist.
The Demiri merchant had commanded a high price for the scope and the story of its acquisition. It was a good thing the Arcanum had given Seth a letter of credit, or this manhunt would have dead-ended in Demir. But the scope had been one of those cracks in the dead end. The merchant had bought it from a Shalaani trader name Jamil. No prince would have sold an arcane scope to a trader in Shalaa, but an arcanist on the run might have.
“So where might I find Jamil?”
“Go past Agra’s flatbreads then past the striped awning of Yusef’s shop. There you will find the stall of Jamil. If he is there, I cannot say. Some of us have work to do.”
With that, the woman stumped back to her cushion. Instead of resuming her fanning, she made a point of taking up a piece of crimson braiding. Squinting ferociously, she set to work beside her husband, who had never looked up from the crisscrossed strips of his basket.
Seth found Agra’s stall, where the delicious scent of warm flatbread made his stomach growl out a reminder of missed meals.
Later. He would eat later.
After he got some answers.
Next came the shop with the striped awning. Beyond it, Seth found an empty stall. The awning was up, but the door was closed. No one answered Seth’s repeated knocking.
He backtracked to the previous shop with the striped awning. Under its shade, an assortment of cheap goods—flimsy brass lamps, amulets of paste and paint—cluttered a table. The open door, however, offered a glimpse of better wares inside.
Seth stepped into the cluttered shop, where a middle-aged man in dark robes belted with a white sash was seated before a low table. He was drinking what smelled like kahve from a glass cup.
“Yusef?” Seth inquired, recalling the name the basket weaver’s wife had mentioned.
“I am Yusef. You have goods to sell, or you seek to buy?”
On the surrounding shelves, household goods mingled with antiques. Among them, Seth spotted a few works of artifice, including an arcane hotplate and what looked like part of a water pump.
“I’m seeking information on the whereabouts of the man named Jamil.”
Yusef steepled his fingers. Sending Seth a bland look over the tops of them, he claimed, “I do not know this Jamil.”
Seth had a nose for lies, but he certainly didn’t need that talent to sniff out this particular one.
“And how much for you to know him?” Unlike the basket weaver’s wife, this man would yield nothing for a mere drahm.
“I am but a humble and honest merchant, harib. If you seek to purchase goods, I can help you.”
Harib. Stranger. Meaning: Seth would have to abide by the social rules that the basket weaver’s wife had dispensed with in the interests of economy.
Here, Seth would have to pretend that he was a customer. Depending on what goods Seth was willing to buy, Jamil’s location might come up in the course of their conversation.
Prevarication tried Seth’s patience at the best of times. His being hungry, thirsty, and frustrated did not make for the best of times. But he would have to play along.
“Since I am here,” Seth gritted out, “I might as well look at your offerings.”
Yusef positively beamed as he rose from his cushion. Beckoning for Seth to follow, he led the way through a curtain of colorful glass beads and into a back room. Yusef gestured to the rolled carpets standing against the mudbrick wall.
“All the way from Aqarat, beyond the Kesh. Beautiful, are they not? And these.” Yusef indicated a shelf of porcelain vases and bowls. “You will find nothing better in Shalaa.”
“And nothing more expensive, I imagine,” Seth noted dryly, but Yusef only blinked as though uncomprehending.
