Storm Glass
Page 66

As I complied, she continued her lecture. “I’ll do all the talking. Your role is to let me know which diamonds are real by simply agreeing with me. I’ll ask your opinion on a certain stone and you’ll either like it or not. If you don’t like it, I’ll know it’s a fake. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Try not to do or say anything to jeopardize our mission. I’m not as resourceful as Liaison Yelena.”
Another jab. Instead of bracing for the rest of the insinuation Pazia made whenever Yelena’s name was mentioned and ignoring it, I decided to beat her to the comment. “You’re right. You aren’t as powerful or as smart as Yelena. I never would have betrayed you the way I did the Soulfinder. You would have been dead in a heartbeat.”
“Then you admit it!” Her eyes lit with triumph despite my insult.
I shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Facts are facts, Pazia. And it’s no big deal. If Yelena had felt so deceived, it’s doubtful she would still be my friend.” I turned away from her, not bothering to note her reaction. As I retrieved my cloak from the back room, I marveled over my bold comments. Did I believe them? I knew the truth of my actions and what had led me to them, and realized my guilt lay not in what I had done, but why I had done it. A step in the right direction? I hoped.
“That ratty thing won’t do.” Pazia eyed my cloak, appearing to be unaffected by my outburst.
“It’s all I have.” Plus my sais were nestled inside the lining, within easy reach.
She removed a jeweled peacock brooch from her cloak. Sapphires and emeralds decorated the feathers of the bird. Pazia pinned it onto my garment. “There. If anyone notices what’s under that beauty, we’ll joke you wear the cloak for sentimental reasons. Blushing would help. And don’t cover your clothes.”
I followed Pazia and Fisk from the Guild headquarters to the market. The black market sellers weren’t so bold to have stands, but their agents roamed the area, seeking customers. Fisk approached one man. Dressed as a farmer and acting as if he was in town for a shopping trip, the man regarded Fisk with surprise.
He scanned Pazia and me with suspicion. She kept her look of bored impatience. Quite an accomplishment and, knowing I couldn’t match her, I settled for appearing nonthreatening.
Too low for me to hear, Fisk and the agent talked for a moment and the conversation ended with a defeated shrug from Fisk, as if giving in.
The man eventually agreed and led us to a thin building one street away from the market. The four-story structure was wedged between a warehouse and a shoe factory. He opened the door into a receiving room, introduced us to another man inside and left.
“What can I do for you?” the new man asked us. He wore a well-made linen tunic cinched with a gold mesh belt. His brown pants complemented the tunic’s light sand color. A large emerald ring on his pinkie finger glinted in the sunlight.
“I want to see your diamonds,” Pazia demanded, stepping forward. “The bigger the better.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” She jingled a bulging leather pouch.
He flashed his teeth in delight. “No. Follow me.”
Toward the back of the building was a showroom without windows. Lanterns blazed, illuminating the glass cases filled with jewelry. I scanned the items. Bracelets, rings and necklaces sparkled with every color stone from precious to semi-precious. No diamonds.
The seller draped a black velvet cloth over the cases, disappeared behind the counter and retrieved a silk bag. He shook out an array of large diamonds, then arranged them on the velvet with tweezers.
“These are the biggest I have right now. But if you need a particular size, I can always order more.” He picked up a thumb-sized round stone and turned it so the candlelight would reflect off the facets.
Pazia seemed dazzled by the gem. She reached for it, but the man drew it back.
“Ten golds. That’s two golds cheaper than what you’d pay in jewelers’ circle. I’ll even give you a companion stone—” he pointed to a pea-sized diamond “—for free.” He launched into a hard sell.
Pazia shook her head, but eventually just interrupted him. “I’m not buying anything unless I can look at it closer.”
He placed the stone on the cloth near her. When she touched it, he frowned.
“Pretty.” She held it up to the light then handed it to me.
The man scowled, but she ignored him.
“What do you think?” she asked me.
I hefted the stone. While it scattered the light in a pleasing way, it didn’t flash. Glass. I placed it back on the counter and touched the others. The same.
“Pretty but ordinary,” I said. “You need a diamond with more pizazz.”
“I can order anything you want,” the seller offered.
“No thank you. I was hoping to find something today.” Pazia was quick to leave despite the man’s insistence.
Out in the street, I drew in a breath of fresh air. “Now what?”
“We find Fisk and another seller.”
The afternoon hours sped past in a blur. The showrooms all seemed identical; the sellers all had similar smooth personalities. Prices and incentives remained constant. And they all offered us glass. Exceptional glass of top quality that I haven’t seen before, but glass all the same. Not a real diamond to be found.
As the sun sank into the horizon, we entered the last shop. This time a man and woman teamed up to make the sale. The woman was effusive with her compliments to Pazia.