Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,43

kosidán says, beckoning us closer. He steps forward, his gray hairs glinting under the sun.

“Please.” The merchant’s smile widens, carving wrinkles into his leathery skin. “Come in. I promise you’ll find something you like.”

We walk around to the front steps of his wagon, pulled by two cheetanaires so large we stand eye to eye. I run my hands along their spotted fur, stopping to finger the grooves in the thick horn protruding from one’s forehead. The ryder purrs and licks my hand with its serrated tongue before I step inside the extensive space of wares.

The musk of old fabrics hits me as we pass through the crowded wagon. On one end, Amari fingers through old clothes while I stop and inspect a pair of suede mongix-hide canteens.

“What are you in the market for?” the merchant asks, holding an array of sparkling necklaces. He leans in, magnifying the deep-set eyes that mark those from Orïsha’s northern border. “These pearls come from the bays of Jimeta, but these glittering beauties come from the mines of Calabrar. Sure to turn any fella’s head, though I’m sure you have no problem in that department.”

“We need traveling supplies.” I smile. “Canteens and some hunting gear, maybe flint.”

“How much do you have?”

“What can we get for this?”

I hand him Amari’s dress and he unfolds it, holding it up to the light outside. He runs his fingers along the seams like a man who knows his cloth, taking extra time to inspect the burns around the hem. “It’s well made, no denying that. Rich fabric, excellent cut. I could do without the burns, but nothing a new hem can’t fix.…”

“So?” I press.

“Eighty silver pieces.”

“We won’t take any less than—”

“I’m not in the business of haggling, dear. My prices are fair and so are my offers. Eighty is final.”

I grit my teeth, but I know there’s no talking him up. A merchant who’s traded all over Orïsha can’t be swindled like an insulated noble.

“What can we get with eighty?” Amari asks, holding up a pair of yellow draped pants and a black, sleeveless dashiki.

“With those clothes … these canteens … a skinning knife … a few pieces of flint…” The merchant begins filling up a woven basket, gathering supplies to get us on our way.

“Is it enough?” Amari whispers.

“For now.” I nod. “If he throws in that bow—”

“You can’t afford it,” the merchant cuts in.

“But what if this does not end at Chân—at the temple?” Amari lowers her voice. “Won’t we need more money? More food? Supplies?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’ll figure it out.”

I turn to leave, but Amari frowns and reaches into the depths of my pack.

“How much for this?” She pulls out her jeweled headdress.

The merchant’s eyes bulge out of his head as he stares at the priceless adornment.

“My gods,” he breathes. “Where on earth did you find that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amari says. “How much?”

He turns the headdress over in his hands, and his mouth falls open when he sees the diamond-studded snow leopanaire. He lifts his gaze to Amari, slow and deliberate. He looks to me, but I keep my face even.

“I cannot take this.” He pushes the headdress away.

“Why?” Amari shoves it into his hands. “You’ll take the dress off my back but not the crown off my head?”

“I can’t.” The merchant shakes his head, but now that gold sits in his hands, his conviction wavers. “Even if I wanted to, there’s nothing I can trade. It’s worth more than everything I have.”

“Then how much can you give?” I ask.

He pauses, fear dancing with greed. He looks back at Amari once more, before staring at the headdress shining in his hands. He removes a ring of keys from his pocket and pushes aside a crate to reveal an iron safe. After unlocking and opening it, he inspects the glowing pile of coins inside.

“Three hundred gold pieces.”

I lurch forward. That kind of coin could last our family a lifetime. Maybe two! I turn to celebrate with Amari when the look on her face brings me back.…

I wouldn’t have this if it weren’t for my handmaiden. It is the only thing of hers I have left.

There was so much pain in her eyes. Pain I recognized. Pain I wore when I was young, the first time my family couldn’t pay a royal tax.

For months Tzain and Baba worked the sunfish harvest from dawn to dusk; at night they took extra work from the guards. They did everything possible to keep me out of it, but