The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,63

prolific one! Oh, and we have a single book by Shauka-daughter-Hasweth.” The wife held up a thin green volume. “I have to admit, I’ve never had any of her work read to me. I didn’t realize that there were any Shin philosophers of note.”

Shallan looked at the four books by Gabrathin. She had no idea which one she should take, so she avoided the question, pointing at the two collections he had mentioned first and the single volume by Shauka-daughter-Hasweth. A philosopher from distant Shin, where people lived in mud and worshipped rocks? The man who had killed Jasnah’s father nearly six years before—prompting the war against the Parshendi in Natanatan—had been Shin. The Assassin in White, they called him.

“I will take those three,” Shallan said, “along with the histories.”

“Excellent!” the merchant repeated. “For buying so many, I will give you a fair discount. Let us say, ten emerald broams?”

Shallan nearly choked. An emerald broam was the largest denomination of sphere, worth a thousand diamond chips. Ten of them was more than her trip to Kharbranth had cost by several magnitudes!

She opened her satchel, looking in at her money pouch. She had around eight emerald broams left. She’d have to take fewer of the books, obviously, but which ones?

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Shallan jumped and was surprised to see Yalb standing there, holding his cap in his hands, nervous. He rushed to her chair, going down on one knee. She was too stunned to say anything. Why was he so worried?

“Brightness,” he said, bowing his head. “My master bids you return. He’s reconsidered his offer. Truly, we can take the price you offered.”

Shallan opened her mouth, but found herself stupefied.

Yalb glanced at the merchant. “Brightness, don’t buy from this man. He’s a liar and a cheat. My master will sell you much finer books at a better price.”

“Now, what’s this?” Artmyrn said, standing. “How dare you! Who is your master?”

“Barmest,” Yalb said defensively.

“That rat. He sends a boy into my shop trying to steal my customer? Outrageous!”

“She came to our shop first!” Yalb said.

Shallan finally recovered her wits. Stormfather! He’s quite the actor. “You had your chance,” she said to Yalb. “Run along and tell your master that I refuse to be swindled. I will visit every bookshop in the city if that is what it takes to find someone reasonable.”

“Artmyrn isn’t reasonable,” Yalb said, spitting to the side. The merchant’s eyes opened wide with rage.

“We shall see,” Shallan said.

“Brightness,” Artmyrn said, red faced. “Surely you don’t believe these allegations!”

“And how much were you going to charge her?” Yalb asked.

“Ten emerald broams,” Shallan said. “For those seven books.”

Yalb laughed. “And you didn’t stand up and walk right out! You practically had my master’s ears, and he offered you a better deal than that! Please, Brightness, return with me. We’re ready to—”

“Ten was just an opening figure,” Artmyrn said. “I didn’t expect her to take them.” He looked at Shallan. “Of course, eight….”

Yalb laughed again. “I’m sure we have those same books, Brightness. I’ll bet my master gives them to you for two.”

Artmyrn grew even more red-faced, muttering. “Brightness, surely you wouldn’t patronize someone so crass as to send a servant into someone else’s shop to steal his customers!”

“Perhaps I would,” Shallan said. “At least he didn’t insult my intelligence.”

Artmyrn’s wife glared at her husband, and the man grew even more red in the face. “Two emerald, three sapphire. That is as low as I can go. If you want cheaper than that, then buy from that scoundrel Barmest. The books will probably be missing pages, though.”

Shallan hesitated, glancing at Yalb; he was caught up in his role, bowing and scraping. She caught his eyes, and he just kind of gave a shrug.

“I’ll do it,” she said to Artmyrn, prompting a groan from Yalb. He slunk away with a curse from Artmyrn’s wife. Shallan rose and counted out the spheres; the emerald broams she retrieved from her safepouch.

Soon, she walked from the shop bearing a heavy canvas bag. She walked down the steep street, and found Yalb lounging beside a lamppost. She smiled as he took the bag from her. “How did you know what a fair price for a book was?” she asked.

“Fair price?” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “For a book? I’ve no idea. I just figured he’d be trying to take you for as much as he could. That’s why I asked around for who his biggest rival was and came back to help