“Then, Rillen, your men have given you our proposal?”
Josie picked up another piece of squid and let it slither down.
Rillen tried to direct his talk at the bogus lord, but it was difficult when he knew she was the brains behind whatever they were trying to pull. “Yes, and the council would be very interested. We see few enough Gan here, but even so, your steel and the quality of your swords speak for themselves. In return, guns. Is it true you have none?”
“Not a one.” Brimeld smiled, as though patient with some poor sod who didn’t understand what trials he had to endure. “Very few ships come to Ganheim from the east, and until now only what the Remorians would let pass—they controlled the center of the sea lanes, what came through and what did not. We’re not a strong sailing nation, only for fishing and for pleasure. Not much for trade except along our own coasts. Perhaps why our ship foundered, and we had to take on with a different crew. Racks you call them, I understand? And yes, guns…guns are not something most Gan would appreciate. They run contrary to our ways, our more rigid customs. Not honorable, before Oku. I don’t suppose the Remorians thought we’d make them much money and so we never even knew guns existed.”
“Yet you want guns now.”
Brimeld’s shoulders hunched in a massive shrug that seemed to fill the small space. “We’d be fools not to, wouldn’t we? I’m sure we could make you plenty of money. And your council too.”
Very nice, very slick. “Then how do you propose we start?”
Again the shrug, but Josie sat up straighter, her eyes always on Rillen behind half-closed lids.
“Two things, I think. You need a recommendation to the council. It happens that now is a good time, and delegations are being accepted for a special reception tomorrow evening. So much has changed with the demise of Remoria.”
Rillen saw this didn’t come as a surprise to Josie at all. He suspected she’d known about the reception and had been angling for just that invite. In fact he’d been depending on it since he’d read their missive. “I can issue an invitation for you and your retinue. A personal audience with the Yelen to discuss terms. For a small consideration.”
Skrymir sat back as though offended, seemed about to offer some word of rebuke, but Josie’s soft hand on his arm, a knowing look, stopped him. “I’m not fond of the wine, Brimeld. Would you?”
Skrymir slid his gaze toward Rillen, still playing offended, but he got up and left for the bar.
Josie leaned forward in her seat, giving Rillen an ample view of what her dress displayed at the cleavage. Demure and provocative at the same time. “My husband isn’t the negotiator, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Born to a duke doesn’t make concessions easier to handle, not for someone like him. It’s all about honor and your given word, to the Gan.”
“So he leaves it to you?” Rillen’s laugh threatened to escape and he was hard put to clamp down on it. “Well then. A small consideration. An introduction to how business works here. Sadly, we are not all honorable like the Gan. At least, not unless money changes hands.”
Her sudden grin was infectious and Rillen found he was mesmerized by the way her fingers lingered on the rim of her glass, soft and slow as she stroked around the rim. She moved the fingers down to his hand, featherlight but with a hint of promise. “Oh, neither am I, particularly. How small would this concession be? And what does it guarantee us?”
He matched her grin with one of his own, played her at her own game. Let her think she had him. “Very small, for you. A hundred golden sharks, payable now. For that, the means to get into the reception, and a personal introduction to my father, the leader of the Yelen. Maybe some assistance in negotiating.”
She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips. “Our trade advisor said this might be necessary. It’s all so different here.” She slid a small purse out of a hidden fold in her dress and handed it to him. He hefted it and didn’t bother to check. He didn’t need to—these two needed him, were dangling their bait in front of him. They wouldn’t blow it now by swindling him before he was on the hook. Instead he reached into his own tunic and pulled out a thick