Fugitive of the Sky

Chapter Twenty: Unfinished Business

The room was beginning to smell a little stale. Maru had moved a couple of the nonessential items she wanted to sell inside, so she could claim to her acquaintances she'd moved them into the bedroom to interest him while he was recovering. And, he suspected, to silently remind him it was his fault she had to sell them in the first place. Natan growled and shifted positions. He was strong enough to be up and about already, albeit slowly, but Maru insisted on keeping him locked up until she was finished all their external business. She'd had a lot of external business to keep her busy lately.

Scuffling noises came from the front room, and Maru's voice rose in annoyance. "I already told you! Show some respect, trader, and stop being so rigidly old-fashioned. Natan is not ready to see visitors yet."

He stiffened. Old-fashioned trader? Not Firot again. If he was insinuating Maru was only a housewife and unable to conduct business—

"Hey! You can't just barge in! This is our house!"

Natan hurriedly sat up, wincing, and straightened his shirt, fixing a scowl on his face as Firot pushed in the door. "I'll be sure to let the neighbors know of your impertinence," he said before Firot could take control of the conversation. "I doubt they would trust the goods of a trader who does not respect personal boundaries. And I will not have you insulting Maru's competence. I trust my wife's judgment."

Firot smiled and tapped a hand on his shoulder in greeting. "Why, Natan Namit, it's a pleasure to see that you are not as indisposed as your wife claims. I was beginning to suspect you had died in the night or some such tragedy and your wife was ruling the household in your name. You must forgive my brash entrance." He bowed, not seeming to notice Maru's furious figure behind him.

Natan's scowl deepened. "I'm not in the mood to mince words, Firot. Especially since you insulted my wife. I will repeat it once more: I trust Maru's judgment." Maru's scowl lessened a bit, giving him a glow of satisfaction.

"My apologies again," Firot said, still blocking the doorway. "I mean no insult to your esteemed wife. It's just that I have had...bad experiences with trading with other women lately." He waved expressively at nothing.

Firot wanted something. He only apologized to start a business deal with the advantage, being the humble servant. It was frustrating how many people fell for it without noticing, even the hardened veterans. Natan clenched his jaw. Not him. Firot had already forced more than enough stones out of him. "Skip the flattery, Firot. My patience is getting thin."

Firot's eyes flashed and he looked injured. "It's not flattery when it's genuine, Natan. But we do have some unfinished business to discuss." He slid out of the door and closed it, deftly blocking Maru out of their conversation. Natan tensed and resisted the urge to reach for his sword. It was too far away and getting it would only reveal his discomfort.

"Alone with the snake? Is that what you're thinking?" Firot asked softly, standing over him. "Tsk, Natan, you should know better than that. I just want to talk man to man." He squatted down and produced the golden fragment of the Larkwing girl's cape from somewhere in the folds of silks wrapped around his shoulders. Natan's eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Firot, who was watching him intently. What was the man after?

"Remember this?" Firot slid the cloth through his fingers. Natan resisted the urge to reach out and snatch the scrap from him. A thing as beautiful as that should be treated reverently, not coarsely cut and trimmed like a cleaning rag.

"I thought you were going to set it in something," Natan hedged. As much as he hated to admit it, alone with Firot in his current state, he didn't have many options. He just had to play this out like a trade and hope he made the profit. Firot was good at convincing, but so was he. Natan was confident he could stand against whatever schemes Firot would throw at him.