Yadleen looked to the rear of the shop and nearly jumped out of her skin.
The proprietor had just bustled in from the shop’s back room. He was so large that he had to duck through the doorway – or perhaps, like a bhūta, that was just his natural posture, because he wasn’t human. This dæmon had the head and humped back of a hyena. The musk rolling off him mixed with the shop’s lily perfume. He wore a black, custom-tailored kurta suit with a lily pinned to the collar.
Licking his chops, the hyena-man settled onto a stool behind the back counter. He looked at Yadleen expectantly. When she didn’t answer him, he bared his fangs. His golden eyes gleamed in the gloom.
“Please browse. Tell Tesfaye if you have questions. Tesfaye is at your disposal,” he added. His Ātapararan wasn’t just crude, but also coarse, with vowels even more exaggerated that Rajeev’s.
Forget the worst cover – this is the worst agent the alchemists could have sent. How does he think he’s at all discrete?
“I’m sorry. I believe I’m in the wrong place.” Yadleen turned towards the door.
There was an audible sniff. Before she could grasp the doorhandle, the hyena-man grunted, “Tesfaye disagrees, necromancer.”
Yadleen hesitated. She’d changed before leaving the ossuary expressly to avoid being identified. Her hand flew to her hair, checking for any bells she might have forgotten.
“You smell sterile,” Tesfaye observed. “Like a properly cleaned ossuary. And your hands. Tesfaye knows hands. Tesfaye can tell your trade.”
“Why does that mean I’m not in the right place?” Yadleen asked.
Tesfaye sniffed again. “You kind do not come to the Graveyard. Not unless you want something special. Something the Vizier of Tombs can not know about.” He raised a clawed finger and gestured vaguely at the lamp-wight.
Yadleen inspected the lamp-wight more closely. The skull seemed ordinary. She could see the silver-inlaid prayers to hold the captive bhūta in place. However, after a few seconds, she realized that the firelight wasn’t merely diminished.
It’s not a bhūta in there. It’s an oil flame.
“Business with Tesfaye always discrete,” the hyena-man declared. He fitted a comically small jeweler’s loupe into his eye and began examining a box of rings. “Tesfaye is here when you are ready.”
Yadleen peered out the front window. Rajeev leaned against the exterior wall, just within her field of view. Seeing her, he arched one brow and gestured for her to go deeper into the shop.
She forced herself to approach Tesfaye. Up close, his musk cut through the perfume. He was the second-worst thing she’d smelled in the past two days.
“A friend told me that you could help a civilized woman,” she said carefully.
“Tesfaye can do that.” He set down the loupe and folded his claws hands. His nose twitched. There was the faintest hint of a frown before he bared his fangs in another failed smile. “You are in trouble?”
“No. Not me.” She took a moment to order her thoughts and select the details of Rajeev’s story that wouldn’t bring him or Master Baig into things. “A client brought me the skeleton of an Unnamed woman and commissioned me to construct a wight. Being Unnamed, I obviously can’t do that … not without papers. I heard you can make me a certificate of custodianship.”
Tesfaye breathed deeply through his nose and licked his chops again. “Make? No. Get? Yes.”
“What will it cost? I can get you the money, if you get me the certificate.”
Tesfaye extended a clawed hand. “Your ring size. Tesfaye must check it.”
Of course – he’d launder the illicit gains through his store. Yadleen gave him her hand. Her gaze went to the display case behind Tesfaye. Here was jewelry of actual value. There were pearl bracelets and ivory rings, as well as a necklace strung with coral. Despite their value, they were horrendously overpriced. Even the cheapest of the rings would cost as much as an attendant-wight for skilled labor. Her savings would be ruined.
At least this is the only part I’ll need to pay for myself.
Yadleen pointed at an ivory ring. “Will that be enough?”
Tesfaye ignored her. Instead, he sniffed her hand. “Your client is from the Kimian Empire, isn't he?”
Yadleen stiffened. It wasn’t just that Tesfaye had guessed correctly. His accent had vanished, replaced by polished Ātapararan that would be the envy of any royal courtier. She could muster no reply except to blurt out, “What?”
“You’ve touched something that’s been through the Bēizadala. That mire’s the weakest point in the Empire’s border. Not that it does much good for someone trying to infiltrate, but someone trying to get out …” Tesfaye shrugged. “I take it he doesn’t want to be identified by the Inquisition.”
For the briefest moment, Yadleen felt a surge of fear. She caught herself before she could do anything rash. Neither she nor Master Baig were endangered by some alchemist knowing this. Rajeev was right on that count. What’s more, she had the perfect chance to get rid of Rajeev. It was hardly her fault if Tesfaye found out about him now.
The memory of Rajeev holding her grandmother’s hand flickered before her.
“Is that a problem?” she asked.
Tesfaye shook his head and offered a cryptic answer. “Smuggling a skeleton from the Empire to Kabarāhira is arming the enemies of the Empire, and thus, is treason … but the Inquisition has loftier concerns. And Inquisitorial courts still haven’t settled the question of whether wights constitute a violation of the Imperial Code. Until they do, I’m inclined to remain neutral in such matters.”
“I … see,” Yadleen said.
“That said, make sure your client understands that he’s here as a private citizen.” Tesfaye released her hand and retrieved a book of hold slips from below the counter. “Remind him that the Inquisition is happy to support any tradition that is in keeping with the Code, and that we are happy to help oppose the barbarity of Unnaming. Also remind him, though, that this is as far as we go together. We won’t be rescuing him or smuggling him back into the Empire if he lands himself him trouble.”
“He understands.”
Tesfaye wrote out the hold slip with a quill before sliding both to her. “Please fill in the necessary details.”
Yadleen looked over the slip. Tesfaye’s meaning was clear: he’d marked out lines for not only a name but also the date of birth and date and cause of death. She wrote down her mother’s first name and the Kapoor surname, then made up the rest based on her autopsy.
Tesfaye checked that everything was in order before tearing off the end of the slip and handing it to her. “They’ll be ready in time for evening prayers, three days from now. Don’t be late,” he instructed.
“You still haven’t told me the cost.”
“You are doing a service to Archon and Empire by helping this citizen. I can offer you charity this once.” Tesfaye bared his fangs again.
“Thank you.” Yadleen tucked the slip into her kameez and hurried towards the door.
“Ma’am?”
Yadleen glanced back.
Tesfaye was now polishing the loupe with a handkerchief. Without looking up, he added, “On the matter of service, the Inquisition appreciates the risk you are taking. Your client may have waived his right to be extracted if trouble finds him, but the same can’t be said of you. If you need refuge, you can come to me to discuss your options.”
She did her best not to shudder. If it came to that, she’d go anywhere but the Empire. It wouldn’t look good for Master Baig if another person associated with him joined the alchemists. She forced a smile onto her face and bowed. “Thank you.”
“Tesfaye always pleased to serve,” the hyena-man said, his words once again coarse and crude. “Good day, ma’am.”