Free The Oathbreaker's Shadow by Amy McCulloch Page A

Uncle Borum,’ said Dharma, with an enthusiastic nod that made her black curls bounce against her shoulder. She had purchased ordinary thread – not promise string – from him in order to continue her weaving. ‘I have just been to visit with the Una – they feel I might be ready to join them one day, if I keep on practising.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it, little star of Sola. And when you do, I will commission many rugs from you to decorate my home.’ He turned to Raim. ‘It’s your turn at last! It must feel like an age to you – and just in time.’
    ‘You have no idea!’ Raim had never been more grateful to be born just before the start of the Festival season. If he had been born a day later, he would have had to wait another year before being able to take his Yun test.
    ‘You must be very proud of your boy, Loni. Do you know, he will be my first ever Yun string-bearer, Sola willing?’ He ushered them all closer to the stall and hedisappeared round the back. Raim ran his hands over the different strings, each made of a different material. There were emerald-coloured strings of silk and maroon cotton threads. Some were so coarse they pricked his fingers and others were so delicate he was afraid they would disintegrate with a touch from his calloused hands.
    ‘Perhaps, since you will hold such an important post in the future, you might be interested in something to reflect the stature of Yun.’ Borum reached beneath his stall and produced a large rectangular box about the length of Raim’s arm and as shallow as his palm. It was made of soft black leather, and he laid it out carefully in front of the trio. He clicked the lock and opened it. Raim’s breath caught in the back of his throat.
    Inside were a hundred strings of the finest quality, laid out side by side. Even to his untrained eye, Raim knew someone had laboured for many years to find them – and also that they would cost vast amounts of money. They were expensive because of the risk involved in procuring them. The stringmongers would pay special gatherers huge sums of money to track down supplies from the most difficult of places: the finest kork wool from under the chin of a goat that only thrived on the frozen caps of the Amarapura mountains, or strands of silk from glowworms hidden in the deepest caves of Zalinzar.
    They were all dazzlingly beautiful. One thread in particular caught his eye; a rich indigo with flecks of gold interwoven in the thread. It looked ablaze with fire.
    ‘You have good taste,’ said Borum, following Raim’s eyes. ‘You won’t find anything finer. Would you like to try—’
    But Loni interrupted before Raim had the chance to touch the beautiful thread. ‘Borum, this is all wonderful but I’m afraid we will have to set our sights on something more modest.’
    The old merchant’s eyebrows rose, creating deep lines in his brow. He looked about to protest, but seeing the determination on Loni’s face, he snapped the case shut. ‘All right then. Tell me what you are looking for and we will go from there. Something similar to your brother, perhaps?’ Borum perked up as he remembered Tarik had purchased promise string that was of much better quality than average. He motioned towards the fine silk strands spread over the left side of his stall.
    ‘Hmm, well . . .’ Loni pulled a small pouch out of his tunic pocket and emptied the contents out onto the stall. A few bronze coins and a smattering of silver spilled out. ‘he Western Eye of Shebaets nostrils feThis is all I have.’
    It was barely enough to buy threads of the most common variety, let alone anything interesting. Raim reached into his pockets and added whatever else he had to the pile. The total was still in significant. Suddenly, spending money on the tyrfish didn’t seem that wise at all and made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t understand. How could Loni have neglected to save for his promise string? He had saved for Tarik, and Raim had seen the