Free Fall of a Kingdom (The Farsala Trilogy) by Hilari Bell Page A

Kavi’s hand. “This was bad, boy. How did it happen?”
    The cruel master or the accident at sea? Either would do. Kavi took a breath.
    “Never mind,” said the deghan, rising to his feet. “You’d only lie. And I suppose the cause matters less than the consequence. Did you know the Setesafon guard is looking for you? They’ve found three pieces of your false gold so far. Soon anyone who bought anything from a young peddler with a scarred hand will be coming forward.”
    Kavi’s heart beat like a hammer, fast and hard. This was disaster. But at least they weren’t looking for Hama. Beneath the fear curiosity stirred. “How did they find out?” He’d have sworn his gilding was deep enough to pass any test.
    The deghan’s lips twitched. “It was Gorahz who undid you. Man got into a fight with his wife, and when the djinn of rage seized him, he picked up the new gold pot she’d been bragging about and threw it at the hearth. It hit the edge of the stone and dented deeply enough that they could see the bronze. You’ve performed one good service, boy. They’re now united as close as any couple could be, in howling for your blood. It’ll be up to the magister, of course, but the guards are suggesting one finger for each piece you sold. How many did you sell, anyway?”
    Kavi’s fingers curled into protective fists, despite himself. The deghan grinned. “That many? Not that it would take many to cripple you, if they started with your left hand.”
    “Are you enjoying this?” Kavi demanded. If he was, then Kavi was coming back for the bastard someday. Assuming there was enough left of his hands after the magister got through with him for him to do anything but beg. Kavi didn’t believe in Sanglak or in any other djinn—that was a deghan’s excuse—but he now understood why the nobles might believe in him, for surely despair this pure couldn’t have been generated solely in Kavi’s own heart.
    “No, I’m not. Stop looking like that.” The deep voice was stern but oddly gentle. “I’ve no intention of turning you over to the guard; I have use for you myself. I just wanted to make the penalty for disobeying me very clear.”
    Hope stirred. If this business was as dirty and desperate as it sounded, Kavi might gain some leverage for counterblackmail after all.
    The deghan snorted again. “Don’t think you can use what I’m going to tell you against me either. You might cause me trouble, but if you do, I’ll take you down with me. And I think you’ll lose more than I.”
    No doubt. A wealthy deghan could buy or influence his way out of anything short of assassinating the gahn. But when had Kavi’s face become so revealing?
    “What do you want from me?” If the deghan’s plans were too vicious, Kavi could always run later and take his chances. Though this deghan didn’t seem as vicious as some.
    “Nothing dreadful,” said the noble, reading Kavi’s face with annoying ease. “Where do your rounds run, and how often do you make them?”
    Kavi blinked in surprise, but at this point he had little to lose by an honest answer. “I go to the small towns and villages north and south of the Trade Road. I’m usually getting through them twice a year. Sometimes faster.”
    “How far north?” The deghan made it sound like a casual question, but Kavi heard the youth behind him stir nervously.
    “I follow the foothills,” said Kavi. “Into the mountains sometimes. Mining towns and camps.” He preferred to avoid the high, grassy plains that held the deghans’ herds and manors.
    “Excellent.” The big bastard almost purred. “I want you to add a stop to your rounds, Master whatever-your-name-really-is. You’ll go twice a year and give the folk there anything they need. If they want something you don’t have, you’ll get it for them. Then, when you come near the army, you’ll find some excuse to contact me and bring me any news.”
    “Twice a year ?” It was the haughty girl. Kavi had all but