Page 73 of The Turncoat King
“It’s the wine merchant. The trader who did business with him is busy heaving up his guts right now, so I wonder whether he thinks to cause us some problems in other ways, too.”
Luc looked over at the traders, and then slid off his horse. “The captain is getting them back to the column.”
“I told him you had cause to be suspicious of the wine merchant, and that the wine might be off, or poisoned.”
“Good.” He turned to the caravan. The traders were packing up. “There’s the wine merchant, at the front of the caravan.”
She saw a large, bluff man with jowled cheeks and hard eyes, and pulled out the fabric she’d used earlier. Added a few things to it.
She didn’t know if it would still work the same way or not, but she thought it safer to boost it.
“I can’t sell you more than I already have. I have to have stock for Fernwell.” He spoke to them before they’d even reached his table.
“Oh, well, that’s a shame.” Ava broke off the thread with her teeth and held out the fabric to him. “I was hoping—”
He reached for the embroidery, almost snatching it from her fingers. “A wine carafe leaning against a tree?” He looked up. “It would look good etched into my casks.”
“It would. A distinctive symbol.” She started stacking the few remaining carafes under her arm. “Where would you like me to put these for you?”
“Oh, in the cart. Thank you.” He bent and lifted a basket full of bottles, and led the way.
Luc said nothing, following behind like a shadow.
Since he’d taken the fabric, the merchant hadn’t even looked Luc’s way.
She didn’t waste any time once they were inside. It would look strange the longer they stayed here after the others had left.
“You have some messages for the Queen?”
He paused, and frowned, and then gave a shrug. “Yes.”
“Can I see them?”
He hesitated. “I’m not supposed to show anyone. Not even supposed to look at them myself.”
“Of course. We just need to check they’re safe. We’ll bring them back tomorrow morning, early, for you. The caravan will spend the night here, and go first thing tomorrow. And everything will be where it needs to be, safe and sound.”
“That’s a relief.” He leaned across to the other side of the narrow cart and began unstacking boxes.
When he reached the bottom one, he lifted the lid, and amongst the sawdust packing, were two scrolls.
“We’ll just make sure all is in order.” Ava lifted them out, and in their place, she set two of the bottles from the basket he’d brought in.
As soon as the empty spaces were filled again, the merchant let out a breath of relief. He closed the lid.
“Keep this box out, so we can quickly put things back to rights tomorrow morning.” Ava saw his thumb was moving back and forth over the fabric. She would have to leave it with him. But she didn’t know whether the compulsion would fade over the night or not.
“It’s a pity you aren’t feeling well today.” To her ear, it sounded clumsy, but she needed to keep him away from the others in the caravan tonight. “But you’re right that a good night’s sleep will probably do you the world of good.”
“You’re very kind.” He stumbled to his feet as she tucked the scrolls under her cloak.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, to give you a soothing remedy from our healer. But until then, I hope a good rest will help.”
“Very kind,” he repeated.
He was already drawing the canvas at the back of his cart shut when she jumped to the ground.
“I never thought you’d take the scrolls from him.” Luc kept his voice whisper quiet. “I thought you’d ask to have a look at them.”
