seemed he wasn’t the first augur to come to this kehok auction. He’d planned a more elaborate lie, but maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. “Revenge or mercy?” She sounded bored.
“Excuse me?”
“Look, there are only two reasons a family hires an augur to search for a kehok: either its former self was one of their loved ones, and they wish to show off the so-called greatness of their own souls by forgiving him. Or its former self wronged one of their loved ones, and they wish to exact their revenge. Which is it?”
Neither choice was exactly it, but Yorbel was relieved that Overseer Irin hadn’t immediately guessed his true purpose. That meant he wouldn’t have to hide his identity as closely as he’d feared.
It was an interesting yet simple ethical dilemma: deceiving people blemished his aura, but the harm he’d cause by revealing his true purpose would cause far worse damage. Shading the truth harmed no one but himself and made that the obvious choice.
Didn’t it?
It was important that people didn’t realize he was looking for the late emperor’s soul. He might not be connected to the daily concerns beyond the temple, but even he knew it would be bad if people lost faith in the augurs’ ability to read a soul’s future. And the augurs having misread the emperor’s soul would be a disaster.
And we thought we were seeing riots now . . .
“Suppose it doesn’t matter. Their gold is just as good either way.” Overseer Irin held out her hand, palm up, and waited.
Belatedly, he realized she expected him to pay her.
He had no idea what the standard bribe of a kehok auction official was, but he knew how much gold he carried and how many markets he had to visit. He laid a gold quarterpiece in her hand and wondered how badly bribery scarred his soul and hers.
She didn’t budge.
He added a second gold quarterpiece.
She closed her hand, and she passed him the book.
“I’m taking a break,” she informed him. “If you don’t know how to read, that’s your problem.” She then strode off, away from the kehoks and toward the enticing aromas of market food.
She should not have required a bribe, and he shouldn’t have acquiesced. But the alternative . . . It is remarkable what a person can justify. First deception, then bribery. He had devoted a lifetime to the study of ethical behavior, but had never had the opportunity to test it in himself. It was shocking how easy it was to feel moral while committing acts he’d previously labeled immoral. And how easy it was to feel smugly self-righteous while doing so.
He wrestled with his guilt for a moment, and then he leafed through the book, deciphering her scrawled handwriting.
By the time Overseer Irin returned, he’d found the information he needed: this market had two new-soul kehoks and six whose auras had not yet been checked. Luckily, none had been sold. He jotted down the names of their sellers and cage numbers in his own notebook, and he returned the records to her.
He then consulted his list and walked with more purpose through the rows of cages until he found it: a massive crocodile with thick, powerful legs. He’d make a great racer, Yorbel thought. He didn’t know much about the races, beyond what all spectators knew, but it was obvious this one had impressive leg muscles.
Yorbel spread his feet in a wide stance and settled his breath. Peering into a creature’s past life was more challenging than viewing the current state of its soul. It required a higher level of concentration and the ability to sort through irrelevancies—
“You wanna buy?” A woman’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Just looking,” he replied.
“If you’re just looking, then keep moving. Others want to look and buy.”
He spared her a glance. She looked as deadly as one of the kehoks, with daggers strapped to her muscled arms and ankles, as well as a sword dangling from her waist. “I may want to buy, after I look. A minute to contemplate, if you please.”
She fell silent.
He focused on the kehok. The aura was the usual swirl of gray, red, and white streaks. Layer by layer, he picked that apart, looking for the shape underneath the shadows. Even though the new vessel retained no memories of its own life, the soul remembered. Its imprint was there, so long as he could sort through the present and future enough to see the past—
“Fast runner, this one,” the seller said. “See those