Free Thread Slivers (Golden Threads Trilogy) by Leeland Artra Page B

with stable, meals, hyly, arit, and milk for me and clients; but, as I don’t drink much I also want baths and,” sending up a small prayer to the Lady, “this table.”
    Genne’s brows moved up and down a little as he obviously thought it through. His eyes told her he wasn’t as surprised as she expected. You’ve been watching me closer than I thought. You knew I was going to ask for this table. Ticca had to remind herself to breathe as he thought it over. Genne was reputed to be one of the hardest men to cheat or negotiate with. Standing up, he held out his left arm. “Done.”
    It took a moment for her to recover from the shock of the quick agreement. She had expected to be bartering down to the threads of the bed cloth. Standing, she grasped his left forearm with her left hand. “Agreed.” Across the room the two other Daggers had stopped mid-bite and stared.
    Genne’s large hand closed on her left forearm and he grabbed her left elbow with his right hand and held her there for a moment. Before he released her he whispered, “Ya done good lady. Try t’stay alive, I likes ya.” Releasing her, he started to turn to go.
    “Genne, one more thing.” As he turned back to her she pulled another four crosses and two crowns out. “Make it four full cycles.”
    Smiling, he took the coins, nodded, and headed back to the bar.
    Ticca knew the room was watching now for sure. Smiling, she did the maneuver she had dreamed of doing at the Blue Dolphin since she was a child listening to the stories the bards told. Years of practice had made the choreographed sequence seem gracefully nonchalant. As she turned and sat she put the coin purse back into the pouch and drew her dagger. It spun around her hand before drop silently into the table’s holder where it stood boldly for all to see. It was a slightly longer than normal dagger polished to a mirrored surface, with a small brass cross guard etched with two packs of hounds running away from the blade, a fine bone hilt, and a diamond-shaped pommel. She smirked at the two shocked Daggers, who sat with their mouths hanging open, staring. She admired how nice the dagger looked standing straight up from the center of the table. That’s right boys, this girl is an experienced hunting Dagger and dangerous. In the back of her head she heard her Uncle’s voice when he was questioned about a Dagger story he was telling: ‘It ain’t braggng if you can do it. And let me tell you, Daggers can.’
    Trying to not to pay too much attention to the room, she finished her meal. A few merchants openly inspected her dagger from a respectable distance, making a note in a journal or notepad before they left. She acknowledged them with a nod or smile. Some veteran Daggers came into the room for morning meals. She didn’t catch a single one of them inspecting her like the new arrival she was and a few even nonchalantly acknowledged her with a nod, wave, or morning greeting. Overall it was quiet and a little anticlimactic.
    When she finished her meal Ellar appeared by the table as the serving girl carried off the empty platter. Placing a square paper-wrapped package and an odd-looking key close to her hand, he said, “M’lady, for you.”
    Looking at the key, she thought about her next actions. I need to figure out what in the Lady’s name is going on with this purse. Might as well inspect the room Genne thinks is right for me. Standing, she reached out for her dagger and in a fluid swirl pulled it from the holder, looped it over her hand, and let it drop lightly in its sheath. Packing up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she grabbed the key and moved toward the stairs.
    Hairy and Frumpy stood up as she moved off and grabbed their dagger. Before she realized what they intended Genne’s voice rang out clear and loud in the otherwise quiet room. “Oi, ya c’n plant yer selves back down lads. Dat table is Ticca’s from now on.” Hairy and Frumpy almost fell over backwards complying.