A Business of Ferrets (Bharaghlafi Book 1) Read online

  A Business of Ferrets

  Copyright 2015 Beth Hilgartner

  Published by Beth Hilgartner at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

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  Cover design by Caligraphics (http://www.caligraphics.net)

  Cover photos from (c) Can Stock Photo (http://www.canstockphoto.com)

  For my most adventurous friends: Marjorie, Susan, Beth, and Neil

  Table of Contents

  Author's Note

  Dramatis Personae

  One—The Foreign Witch

  Two—Conversations

  Three—A Chip of Charcoal

  Four—Journeyman

  Five—Slave

  Six—Councils

  Seven—Dreams

  Eight—Hints

  Nine—The Lady's Puppy

  Ten—Hunters and Prey

  Eleven—First Blood

  Twelve—Threats

  Thirteen—Secrets

  Fourteen—Ythakh-Fair

  Fifteen—Interrogation

  Sixteen—Collaboration

  Seventeen—Guild War

  Eighteen—Desperate Ventures

  Nineteen—Danger

  Twenty—Disaster

  Twenty-one—Night Work

  Twenty-two—Salvage

  Twenty-three—Stratagems

  Twenty-four—Hunting

  Twenty-five—Whispers

  Twenty-six—Eavesdropping

  Twenty-seven—Confrontations

  Twenty-eight—Raising the Stakes

  Twenty-nine—Parry and Riposte

  Thirty—Rescue

  Thirty-one—Aftermath

  Thirty-two—Retribution

  Thirty-three—Tidying Up

  About the Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Connect with Beth Hilgartner

  Author's Note

  When the first two books of the Bharaghlafi series were published—in 2000 and 2002, respectively—with the third (unwritten) volume under contract, I thought I had finally found a permanent publishing home. Unfortunately, before the third volume of this series (which wasn't written)—or, for that matter, the sequel to Cats in Cyberspace (which was)—could be published, the publisher went out of business, casting me and my books adrift. My search for a traditional publishing house to pick up the Bharaghlafi series was unsuccessful, so I set the project aside until a later time. The publishing industry as a whole went through a period of turmoil, which corresponded with deep changes in my life situation—with the result that my time and creative energies were absorbed by things other than writing novels. While A Pariliament of Owls doesn't have a cliff-hanger of an ending, it's nonetheless clear there is more story left to tell. I have felt a certain amount of guilt for leaving readers hanging, and have had to respond to many, many queries from readers wanting to know whatever happened to Ferret, Owl, and their friends.

  One of the reasons I am putting my "backlist" books into e-book format is because I hope that making these titles available will provide sufficient income to justify my spending a greater part of my time actually writing—and An Ambush of Tigers is a top priority for that writing time. That said, I'm not a particularly fast writer, and it is a complicated story, so it won't be out this year. But I am committed to getting it written, so, while you shouldn't hold your breath or go on a hunger strike, you also should not lose hope. I wouldn't make this effort to introduce a new generation of readers to the world of the Bharaghlafi Empire if I didn't intend to continue the story arc in subsequent volumes.

  The two most common questions I receive from fans of the Bharaghlafi series are: 1. When is An Ambush of Tigers coming out? and 2. How do you pronounce the names? I'm fairly sure that the uncomplicated-but-true answers to these two questions (1. Well, sometime after I finish it; and 2. However you like.) are not satisfying; I trust that this author's note will provide a more nuanced response.

  So: about the names... If you're not one of those people who needs to know how the author pronounces her characters' names, feel free to skip this part; but for the curious, here's my attempt at a pronounciation guide. The weird-looking consonant combinations (kh, zh, bh, etc.) approximate sounds that don't exist or are uncommon in English. Kh is a back-of-the-throat gutteral, much like ch in German (ach); zh is a voiced sh-sound (as in azure); bh falls somewhere between (in English) b and p; c is pronounced as English ch (church), cc is a k'ch sound (as in the phrase slick chimp), dh as in the phrase ad hoc; rh denotes a flipped r sound and rr a rolled r. The vowel y is usually a short i sound (as in bit), except as an initial letter, where it is closer to a long e (beet), or after kh, where it has a long i sound (wild); a is either an ah sound or short (as in cat); e is usually eh (as in best), and is pronounced (though never stressed) when it is the last letter in a word; i is pronounced ee, and o as in overt. There is (alas) no consistent rule for which syllable is stressed, though in two syllable names, it's generally the first (RHY-dev, CYF-fe); in three syllable names, either the first syllable (KHE-thy-ran AN-zhi-bhar, VEN-y-khar) or the second (y-CE-vi ghyt-TE-ve, ci-THAN-ekh) is stressed.

  Beth Hilgartner, July 2015

  Dramatis Personae

  In the Slums

  Ferret – an apprentice thief

  Owl – a beggar

  Kitten – a beggar

  Donkey – potboy at the Trollop’s Smile

  Mouse – a flower seller’s daughter with a talent for drawing

  Squirrel – an errand boy

  Sharkbait – a troublemaker and longshoreman, currently trying to organize dockworkers into a guild

  Arkhyd – Innkeeper at the Trollop’s Smile and Donkey’s uncle

  Zhazher – Owl’s brother; an addict

  Khyzhan (Master) – a Master in the Thieves’ Guild and Ferret’s mentor

  Ybhanne (Master) – a rival Master in the Thieves’ Guild

  Anthagh – a slaver

  In the Temple District

  Kerigden – High Priest of the Windbringer

  Anakher (Bishop) – Bishop of the Horselord’s Temple

  Dedemar – a foreign mercenary in the Temple Guard

  At the Court

  Arre – a Seer and bard from the Kellande School in Kalledann; the Emperor’s lover

  Emperor Khethyran (the Scholar King) – Emperor of Bharaghlaf

  Venykhar Ghobhezh-Ykhave – the Councilor for House Ykhave

  Adheran Dhenykhare – the Councilor for House Dhenykhare

  Bhenekh (Commander) – Commander in the Imperial Guard

  Ycevi Ghytteve (Lady) – Councilor for House Ghytteve

  Cithanekh Anzhibhar-Ghytteve – possible heir to the throne and Ycevi’s cousin

  Myncerre Ghytteve – Steward for House Ghytteve

  Elkhar Ghytteve – chief of Ycevi’s bodyguard

  Cezhar Ghytteve – a Ghytteve bodyguard

  Rhan Ghytteve – a Ghytteve bodyguard (Cezhar’s brother)

  Cyffe Ghytteve – a Ghytteve bodyguard (Elkhar’s sister)

  Zhotar Ghytteve – a Ghytteve bodyguard

  Alghaffen Ghytteve (Duke) – Duke of House Ghytteve

  Mylazhe Ambhere – Councilor for House Ambhere

  Enghan Mebhare – Councilor fo
r House Mebhare

  Rhydev Azhere – Councilor for House Azhere

  Zherekhaf Azhere – the Prime Minister and Rhydev’s uncle

  Ymlakh Glakhyre – Councilor for House Glakhyre

  Dharhyan (Master) – Master of the Caravan Guild

  Falkhan – a Watchman who also works for Rhydev Azhere

  Ghorran – an Azhere bodyguard

  Council Houses:

  Anzhibhar – the Royal House

  Ambhere – Mining

  Azhere – Silk

  Dhenykhare – Shipbuilding

  Ghytteve – Coffee (drugs)

  Glakhyre – Wool

  Mebhare – Farming

  Ykhave – Artisans

  Ythande –Woodsdwellers/timber

  Khyghafe – Nomads/horses

  Places:

  Yrkhaffe – the capitol city of the Bharaghlafi empire

  Amarta (the Federated States of) – kingdom North of Bharaghlaf

  Kalledann – a distant island country; home of the Kellande School

  Slum/waterfront taverns:

  Trollop’s Smile

  Beaten Cur

  Ivory Comb (waterfront)

  Replete Feline (waterfront)

  Gods (those with temples in the Temple District)

  The Windbringer

  The Horselord

  The Dark Lady

  Chapter One—The Foreign Witch

  The Yrkhaffe waterfront churned with activity. The Metara Kentis was in port. Even the stifling heat wasn't enough to still the grunts and curses of the longshoremen as they unloaded barrels and crates: the fabled wine of Kalledann; wheat from Mebharev; and liquor from the shipmaster's home port in Amarta.

  Ferret watched the bustle with a shrewd and practiced eye. A plenitude of marks milled among the laborers, but members of the Watch were intermixed, like leaven in a loaf; and Ferret had no desire to lose a hand to one of them. She let her breath out in an almost soundless hiss. She didn't even want to think about facing Master Khyzhan empty-handed at day's end.

  A ripple of disturbance drew her attention to the Metara Kentis's berth. Ferret frowned. It wasn't like Shipmaster Kentis to carry passengers—and a woman! The woman coming down the gangplank was thin, taller than most, dressed in a man's tunic and breeches which suited her lean frame well. As Ferret watched, the stranger waved farewell to the shipmaster; then, with the confidence of a fool or a fighter, she joined the throng on the shore.

  Ferret lost interest. From her nest of shadows between waterfront taverns, she scanned the crowd like a predator. Too many Watch; her quick eyes counted easily three hentes of them. If she were caught with her fingers in someone's pocket, they'd run her down for sure. It was one of Khyzhan's maxims that caution was the best defense; but that wouldn't make him any easier to appease if she spent another day fruitless.

  Ferret's wandering attention snagged again on the woman from the ship. As she approached, her eyes moved with an alert restlessness familiar to Ferret. Then, the woman's gaze crossed Ferret's—and snapped back, widening in recognition. Her lips parted, as though she caught her breath. Ferret's heart tripped, then began to sprint.

  "You. Lass. Come here!" the woman hailed her.

  Ferret's instinctive fade into the shadows was halted by the appearance of a Watchman at the woman's shoulder. She took quick stock, decided on a role to fit the situation: youthful innocence. She was small for her age; it was usually easy to make people think her far younger than her sixteen years.

  "Trouble, Lady?" he rumbled.

  Ferret forced herself into the light, playing the injured innocent. "I've not done aught."

  "No trouble, good sir," the woman assured the guard. "I thought I recognized a friend."

  The guard moved on; as he passed Ferret, he growled, "Mind your step, Wharf-rat. I've an eye on you."

  Despite her training, Ferret wet her lips nervously. "What game're you playing?" she warily asked the woman.

  The woman smiled. "What's your name, lass?"

  "Why do you care? I'm naught to you."

  There was something compelling about the stranger. Her eyes—odd colored: one green and one blue—held Ferret as firmly as any Watchman's grip; and she seemed really to see her, to see Ferret, not the child she acted. Her rich voice spoke the Bharaghlafi tongue with a lilting accent. "You're mistaken," she said quietly. "You are something to me, though I'm not quite sure what. My name is Arre; I am a Kellande Seer. I have dreamed of you." She smiled again, gently, seeing the naked fear her words produced. "It's nothing to fear. I'd never harm you."

  Ferret managed a skeptical look. "Gods and fish," she swore. "You tell me I'm deep in your heathen witchcraft, and then say I've naught to fear."

  The woman said an exasperated word in her own language. "What's your name? Where do you live?"

  With a bravura Ferret didn't feel, she lifted her pointed chin and eyed the foreigner insolently. "I'm Ferret. I live in the Slums. I'm a thief."

  The stranger's gaze grew distant; the shadow of concern touched her brow. "Don't steal today, Ferret," she said softly.

  "Oh, aye," Ferret said sarcastically. "Heathen witchcraft makes you high-minded, but what am I to eat at day's end?"

  The stranger opened her purse and poured a stream of coins into Ferret's palms. "Don't steal today, Ferret," she repeated.

  She left Ferret staring at the coins in her cupped hands. When the pickpocket looked up, Arre was gone. "Praise to the Windbringer," Ferret whispered as she hid the coins. "Yon woman's clean daft." There had been more silver in the clutch of coins than copper—three Guilds would more than satisfy Khyzhan. As her mind spun plans, she eased through the wharf crowds, heading for her burrow in the Slums.

  The Yrkhaffe Slums filled a wedge of territory between the waterfront and the forbidding walls of the Temple District: a warren of streets and alleys, rife with violence, filth and the stench of despair. Dilapidated tenements leaned over ramshackle huts and hovels; abandoned warehouses did duty as market, counting house, tavern or flophouse. Beggars thronged the waterfront border and the Temple Gate, but the poor were everywhere. The Masters of the Slum-Guilds ruled with iron fists, but the Watch kept their distance. As long as the contagion of poverty and crime was contained, as long as the streets of the "respectable" districts of Yrkhaffe were reasonably safe, as long as (it was said) the bribes were paid on time and in full, the Watch left the Slums' inhabitants to their own, brutal justice.

  Ferret had never known any other home. The broader streets of the respectable districts, into which she occasionally ventured in pursuit of her living, left her feeling dangerously exposed. She made her way to the rooftop shelter where she currently slept; her ascent involved several questionable railings and a stretch of very treacherous tiles, but she was small, whippet thin and agile as her namesake. She had made a rough shelter of some rotted beams and a tattered piece of canvas, and had carefully fashioned a place to store things beneath a loose roof tile. Her worldly possessions consisted of two changes of clothing (neither in good shape), a ratty blanket, a small clay brazier, several scavenged jars which contained her meager stores, a battered pot, a large stoneware bowl, an assortment of mismatched, chipped crockery, four wooden spoons and a good, sharp knife. Now, as she swiftly sorted the coins, her eyes widened in renewed amazement: a Half-Noble; twenty silver Guilds; twelve copper Commons. She chewed the inside of her cheek; too much, and Khyzhan would be suspicious: too little, and he would be angry. In the end, she wrapped the Half-Noble, all but two of the Guilds, and eight Commons in a rag, and tucked the fortune into her hidey hole. Then, she eased her way to the street and made for the Temple Gate. She'd do as the foreign witch advised since the woman had paid her handsomely, and keep her hands in her own pockets; but to lie low the whole afternoon would be to invite suspicion. It was hard to mislead Khyzhan if he took it into his head to ask questions. With luck, Owl or Kitten would be begging at the Gate.

  ***

  There were actually two gates at
the Temple Gate. The first gave onto a huge open courtyard, paved with the ubiquitous silvery slate which was quarried from The Spine, a range of tired mountains at the city's back. The first gate was set in a chest-high stone wall, more a symbolic boundary than a real one, which kept the crowding Slum buildings at a distance. It was often

  called the "Waiting Wall"—an allusion to its role as a central meeting place for all but the most elevated of Yrkhaffe's residents; and today, as most days, it was the haunt of beggars, gamblers throwing ysmath bones, loiterers, small vendors, and the khacce players with their portable game tables. Across the square the second gate, through which one gained entrance to the wide boulevards and manicured lawns of the Temple District, was guarded by two hentes of Temple Watch in gray and scarlet tabards. Ferret gave the guarded gate wide berth as she searched the crowds for her friends.

  There! Owl. He was attached to the sleeve of an avuncular merchant; Ferret knew better than to interrupt. Even from this distance, she could see how Owl's soulful eyes drew concern from his mark. She nodded to herself as the man dug into his pockets to find coins for the waif.

  "Happen it's not fair to put the touch on him," remarked a voice which quivered with the edge of laughter.

  "Ho, Kitten," Ferret greeted her friend.

  "I got him on his way in," she went on, mischief glinting in her hazel eyes. "He gave me a whole Guild. And happen his Temple took him for something. If Owl doesn't pry a Half-Noble out of him, I'll be surprised. How's pickings, Ferret?"

  "I've done for the day," she told the younger girl. "I'd a good haul, but there's naught of sense in straining luck."

  "'Caution is the best defense,'" Kitten quoted.

  Ferret looked at her sharply. "Dinna let yon kite Khyzhan get his talons into you."

  "Fret!" Kitten protested, using her nickname for Ferret. "Happen I'd best learn a trade. I willn't be small and cute forever."

  "Learn a trade—but not from Khyzhan. I'll teach you what I know, if learning's what you want, but he's a scavenger—and hard. Please, Kitten: wait on it."