Renna looked up at her, and Arlen was shocked when her scent told him she actually believed the woman was being kind. ‘You’d do that for us?’
Ent her fault, he told himself. Same as readin’. If folk in the Brook could haggle, Hog wouldn’t own over half the town.
Shamavah smiled, whisking a hand as if it was nothing. ‘It is no trouble. The necklace is a pretty trinket, one I should have little trouble selling to some wealthy Damaji as a gift for one of his wives.’
Arlen looked away as he rolled his eyes. ‘No trouble,’ he murmured for Renna’s ears alone, ‘and an opportunity for the Krasians to establish trading contacts throughout Hollow County on an errand using our good name.’
He could smell Renna’s disbelief as she regarded Shamavah, followed quickly by disappointment. She pretended to examine the necklace once more as she murmured back, keeping the exchange for their ears alone. ‘Should I not sell it?’
‘Sell, but demand coin,’ Arlen whispered. ‘Payment on delivery.’
Renna turned, smiling widely for Shamavah. ‘Appreciate the help. Coin on delivery will be fine.’
Shamavah nodded as if she had expected no other answer. ‘May I hold the piece?’ Renna handed it to her and she examined it closely, putting a lens in her eye as she held the gems to the light.
‘Now she’ll find flaws and try to haggle you down,’ Arlen murmured. ‘Whatever she says, tell her she’s crazy and threaten to sell to Smitt. She’ll double her offer. Ask for five times that.’
‘Honest word?’ Renna breathed through her smile. ‘Don’t want to insult her.’
‘You won’t,’ Arlen murmured. ‘Krasians don’t respect a person who can’t haggle. Settle for half as much.’
Renna grunted and waited for Shamavah to finish her inspection.
‘More pretty than anything.’ Abban’s wife put just the right hint of disappointment in her tone. ‘The diamonds are clouded and there is a flaw along the edge of the emerald. The gold isn’t as pure as we have in Krasia. But perhaps the novelty of having once been the possession of a greenland count will help fetch a buyer. I’ll give you a hundred draki for it.’
Renna barked a laugh, though the sum was likely meaningless to her. ‘Think you need your lens fixed. Ent a thing wrong with those gems, and that gold is pure as snow. You don’t want to pay what it’s worth, I’m sure Smitt …’
Shamavah laughed, and she bowed. ‘I underestimated the Jiwah Ka of the Par’chin. You have a sharp eye. Two hundred draki.’
Renna shook her head. ‘Thousand.’
Shamavah gasped in perfect indignation. ‘I could buy three such necklaces for that. Three hundred, and not a klat more.’
‘Five, or I sell to Smitt,’ Renna said, her voice cool.
Shamavah regarded her, and Arlen didn’t need extra senses to know she was considering a last press. At last she bowed. ‘I can deny the new Jiwah Ka nothing on her wedding day. Five hundred.’
‘’Preciate it,’ Renna said. ‘That’ll put livestock in a lot of yards and clothes on a lot of backs.’
‘You haggle well,’ Shamavah said. She turned to Arlen, and the corners of her eyes crinkled, her scent amused. ‘Soon, you will no longer need the Par’chin to advise you.’
‘All right, Wonda, I’ve waited long enough,’ Leesha said. ‘Come on out.’
‘Don’t wanna,’ Wonda said.
‘Wonda Cutter,’ Leesha warned, ‘if you’re not out here in—’ She gasped as Wonda stepped into the room in the clothes from Duchess Araine.
‘Oh, my,’ she said.
‘Look stupid, don’t I?’ Wonda said bitterly. ‘Knew it.’
‘Not at all,’ Leesha said. ‘You look magnificent. Once you’re seen about town and folk hear this comes from the Duchess Mum’s own dressmaker, every woman in the Hollow is going to want a set.’
And it was true. Much as Leesha hated to admit it, the royal dressmaker had outdone herself, crafting an outfit as modest and practical as any a male soldier might wear, yet with a distinctly feminine style.
The blouse was dark green silk with embroidered ivy and wards in thread-of-gold to add texture to her flat front. The sleeves were loose from shoulder to elbow, but laced tight along her forearms to keep from catching on a bowstring and to slip easily into her wooden bracers. Over the blouse was a thick vest of brown leather, padded on the inside and buttoned snug. It was meant to serve as a buffer between blouse and breastplate, but the vest’s fine and stylish cut made it equally suitable when she was unarmoured.
From her waist to her knees, the pantaloons of fine brown wool brought to mind the divided skirts many of the fighting women of the Hollow favoured – loose enough to appear a dress if the woman was standing still. In battle, Wonda would wear an over-skirt of flexible goldwood slats, designed to retain freedom of movement and speed while offering the protection of powerful wards.
The pantaloon legs tapered quickly from the knee, coming to a lace buttoned cuff that slid easily into the soft doeskin knee boots that cushioned her wooden greaves and shoes. With those shoes, Wonda could withstand the full force of a wood demon’s bite on one foot while kicking its skull in with the other.
Under her arm Wonda carried her open-faced helm of polished wood, carved with more ivy scrollwork wards. If her boots didn’t bash in the demon’s skull, Wonda could just as easily do it with her head. It would be simple for Leesha to add a mind ward and wards of sight around the eyes.
‘What about the doublet?’ Leesha asked.
‘Gave those away, like the count said,’ Wonda said.
‘You didn’t keep one for yourself?’ Leesha asked.
Wonda shook her head. ‘Don’t work for the Duchess Mum, so I don’t feel right wearing her crest. You give me a doublet with a mortar and pestle, I’ll wear it. If not, this is enough.’ She took her warded cloak off its peg by the door, throwing it over her shoulders.
Leesha blinked. She pretended to fetch her teacup for the chance to subtly dab her eyes. ‘I’ll have the additional wards for your armour ready by new moon. Your bow as well, if you’ll let it out of your sight for ten seconds.’
Wonda looked at the weapon where it leaned unstrung against the wall by the door. ‘Don’t see what you need to do with the bow. Painted Man made it himself.’
‘I’m not going to change a single ward,’ Leesha said. ‘I’m just going to slip a sliver of demon bone into the grip.’
Wonda made a face. ‘Why?’
‘Because while Arlen can charge the bow’s wards with his hands, you cannot,’ Leesha said. ‘The bone will keep the wards active all the time. Even unwarded arrows will bite at demons when launched from it.’
Wonda’s eyebrow lifted. ‘Ay? Like the sound of that—’ Suddenly she tensed, moving instantly for the window, a hand on her knife. She relaxed once she had a look.
‘Just Darsy.’ She looked back at Leesha. ‘Sure I don’t look stupid?’
Leesha ignored her. ‘Open the door, please, while I put the kettle back on.’
A moment later Darsy walked into the room, wringing her hands. ‘Something you need to know, Leesha, and you ent gonna like it.’