06. You Get What You Pay For (Vaye)¶
The Eyewall’s rumble faded as Vaye entered one of the signature double archways that led down to the sobração, the network of tunnels and caves beneath Thelenza’s streets. Like all such entrances, the stonework was sculpted to resemble the delicate curves of an ear, which she supposed made her the wax. The top of the inner arch was shiny and smooth from generations of Cantereians who had reached up and stroked it for luck. Vaye kept her hands to herself, though. Good way to catch a skin disease, touching that thing.
At the bottom of the dark stairwell, Vaye emerged into a broad thoroughfare. The cavern was lit by dozens of oil lamps hanging from the stalactites. Cantereians bustled past, parcels bouncing on their backs or carts bumping along the flattened walkways as they carried out the business of their Sarmalan employers. Vaye received a few curious glances as she joined the throng, Anashi being rare in any setting, but the Cantereians were mostly too busy to focus on her.
Vaye wasn’t fond of crowds or confined spaces, but something about the sobração put her at ease. Most of the Cantereians were dressed shoddily and malnourished, but the hum of their voices somehow combined into a single harmonious tone. Unlike the cacophony of the city above, the sobração sounded natural, akin to the laughter of a brook or the sighing of the wind through the trees.
She came to a dank vertical crack in the wall of the cavern, barely wide enough for her shoulders, and sidled through like a cockroach, glad she wasn’t wearing her pack. She chuckled to herself as she tried to imagine Belosveka squeezing through. It had never been clear how much the Dzharian knew about the Tashiya, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten about it as Vaye had hoped. Although the coins jingling in Vaye’s purse said she’d gotten the best of their exchange, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Belosveka had somehow manipulated her.
The crack spat her out into a long, dim cavern filled with steam and smelling strongly of sulfur and mildew, a few sputtering braziers generating ruddy, inadequate light. Along one wall, a row of narrow spouts emitted streams of hot water into shallow stone basins, part of the vast hydro-volcanic system that also powered the Eyewall. Next to the basins, workers scrubbed away at piles of laundry, several Anashi families among them. Laundry was one of the few acceptable trades for Vaye’s people, and had provided employment for her mother in Ewederi. Vaye had briefly considered seeking work down here, but preferred being desperately poor above ground to being slightly less poor below.
Fihro and Musab were right where she expected, slouching against a wall and rolling dice with a few younger Cantereian miscreants, ignored by the workers nearby. The place was so unpleasant that the law seldom bothered them, and the steam provided cover for their illicit transactions. They were like fleas living in the safety of a giant armpit.
Fihro glanced up as she emerged from the steam, his unctuous grin diminishing slightly. He sniffed, nudging Musab. “Suddenly smells worse in here, eh?” Musab gave a confused chuckle as he covertly sniffed his own shirt.
“I’d like to buy some nownow,” Vaye said.
“Yeah?” He straightened and spat on the ground. “With what? I told you—”
“Actually, I’ll take all of it,” she interrupted, echoing Belosveka’s words. She opened her palm and flashed the aurei, warily eyeing the crowd of urchins who stood on their tiptoes to see what she was holding. She didn’t like flashing such wealth down here, but all the nearby workers made it a bit too public for a robbery. “You said seven for the ball, right?”
“Where did you get that?” Fihro whispered, his eyes wide.
She savored his look of envy and confusion. “Do you want it or not?”
The Cantereian’s confusion was overcome by his greed. Even Musab was licking his lips now, although it was possible he just wanted the salt. “The price has gone up,” Fihro said. “Ten aurei.”
Vaye sighed dramatically and turned to leave. “Fine. I’ll take my money elsewhere.”
“Wait!” Fihro said, grabbing her sleeve. She looked down at his hand disdainfully until he let go. “Wait. Okay, eight.”
“Seven,” she said, holding her closed fist in the air. “Like you said before.”
Fihro’s quivering excitement was confirmation enough that he was still ripping her off. He held out his hand for the money and she moved back a step. “The nownow,” she said pointedly.
Eyes locked on her closed fist, he nodded to Musab, who pulled out the baggie and handed it over. She confirmed that it was the right bag before finally giving Fihro the gold. “I would say it was a pleasure doing business with you but, well…” She shrugged.
She slipped back into the cloud of steam, barely managing to keep from laughing out loud. She still checked to make sure she wasn’t being followed, but the danger couldn’t compete with her elation. She hadn’t felt so confident in ages, like she could go anywhere. Wealth was a kind of intoxication she could definitely get used to.
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