City of Dragons

“So. That’s settled. Now. Here’s our day. We’ll do a bit of shopping and then stop for a cup of tea. There’s a new place that I’ve heard is marvelous. Teas from beyond the Pirate Isles! They grind their spices right at your table, and pour the boiling water right into little pots, just the right size to hold two cups of tea. Trader Morno told me all about it, and I simply must see it for myself. Then we can visit your tailor.”



“As you wish,” he complied contentedly. The prospect of being among the first to try the new transport was appealing. And he had no wish to book passage until he had conferred with his own rumormongers. His first question of them would be, why had his father heard these things before he had?



Because Sedric hadn’t been there to bid him pay attention and prattle endlessly at breakfast about what he thought was most important for Hest to know. With a scowl, he banished that thought.



The Great Market of Bingtown had been built, not on a square, but on an immense circular plaza. It had changed a great deal since the Chalcedeans had made a very enthusiastic effort to invade and destroy the city all on one night. Hest liked some of the improvements. The tall, old-fashioned warehouses on the waterfront had blocked the view of the sea. Many of those had burned in the attack, and the Council had seen fit to decree that the newer warehouses be built with a lower profile. Now the Great Market had a wonderful view of the harbor. Many of the shops and businesses that had been destroyed or damaged in the battle had rebuilt since then, and the last few years of recovering prosperity had meant that the Great Market now had a fresh new look.



Hest had been born in Bingtown. As he stepped out of the carriage and looked around the market prior to helping his mother down the steps, he reflected that in his childhood and youth, he had taken the town for granted. It was only when he was a young man and old enough to travel that foreign cities had shown him the superiority of his home.



“This way,” his mother announced decisively, and he was content to follow her through the thronged marketplace. He smiled. Bingtown was a place where the entire world came to trade, for only in Bingtown could one find the magical and wondrous artifacts of the Elderlings. Merchants who came to Bingtown to trade knew to bring their very best trading items if they wished to acquire Elderling magical items. As a result, the stocks in the stores of Bingtown were varied and rich, and the Bingtown Traders enjoyed a lifestyle that was unrivaled in the known world. That suited Hest admirably.



He enjoyed travel and the exotic pleasures that foreign cities might offer, but he had always been glad to return to Bingtown and its comforts. It was by far the most civilized city, for here trade was of the utmost importance, and a bargain was a bargain, forevermore. He was born of one of the old Trader families and expected to inherit his family’s wealth and their vote on the Traders’ Council. The best goods of the world made their way to his door, and he had the fortune to buy what he chose, hampered only by his father’s tightfisted ways. But his father would not live forever. One day he would own it all, and the wealth would be at his disposal. He would inherit it all . . . as long as he provided an heir to satisfy his father’s concern that there be yet another Finbok after Hest.



“Did you say something?” His mother looked over his shoulder at him. She had paused at one of the tiny market stalls that crowded the alleys between the proper shops.



“Just a slight cough.” He smiled at her and then, with an effort, kept the expression on his face. Just past her shoulder, his Chalcedean assailant mingled with the crowd. He was not looking their way; he appeared to be considering the purchase of some freshly fried fish, but the man’s profile was unmistakable. Also unmistakable was that the fellow was alive and apparently well. And he should have been neither. Hest had hired the best to deal with him and paid him well. Annoyance at being cheated of his money was a distant second to the rising fear in his heart.



He took his mother’s arm firmly. “What about that tea shop?” he asked her and tugged at her as he had not since he was a child. “Please, let’s visit it first, and then ramble through the stores.”



“Oh, you are such a boy, still!” She turned to smile at him, obviously delighted at his demand. “We’ll go then. Come. The tea shop I want to try is this way, right near the intersection of Prime with Rain Wild Street.”



Hest quickened his pace. He longed to look back, to see if the man had seen him and was following. But he didn’t dare. That glance back might be just the motion that would call the assassin’s attention to him. His smile was getting stiff. “You know, I haven’t been on Rain Wild Street in a while. Let’s shop there a bit, before we have our tea.”