Part 8

The pearly-gray light of dawn found Gaav already up and bathed, dressed and anxiously pacing back and forth in his room. He’d woken well before the sun had even started to lighten the horizon, and finding that it was impossible to go back to sleep with his mind racing, he’d gotten up, visited the bath house, returned to his room and taken extra time with his morning routine. He’d found his coat, freshly laundered and pressed, hanging outside his door, along with the basket full of his newly laundered clothes, as he was leaving for the bath house, so it had only seemed appropriate that he make himself as presentable as possible. Why he felt this, he could only guess. He always took pride in his appearance, but this morning it had bordered on fussy.

That had been almost an hour ago. He could hear the sounds of people starting to move in the streets outside, and he hoped that Zaira was one of these early risers. He wasn’t sure he could stand being cooped up in his room for much longer—

He stopped and listened as the sound of a door opening across the hallway came to his ears. Grabbing up his sword, he slung it over his shoulder and yanked open his door. Just as he’d hoped, Zaira was in the hall, just pulling her door shut.

“Gaavan,” she said brightly, giving him a smile that was partly shy and partly pleased. “You’re up.”

He pulled his door shut and locked it as he shrugged. “I woke up early this morning and thought I’d…” He let his sentence trail off as he realized he had no idea what he’d thought he was going to do. He couldn’t admit that he’d been waiting for her, and yet he didn’t have a story to cover why he was up so early.

However, the blush that bloomed on Zaira’s cheeks more than made up for his own embarrassing situation. Seizing the opportunity, he grinned and bowed slightly in her direction. “I thought it would be nice if we had breakfast together.”

Her blush deepened and she clutched the basket she was carrying closer to her. “I…” she stammered.

“Say yes,” he said in a low, gently commanding voice, giving her his most disarming smile.

Helplessly, she nodded, staring into his eyes like a bird hypnotized by a snake. “Yes,” she said obediently.

“Good.” Straightening, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Lead the way, then.”

Arching her eyebrows at him, she gave him a saucy grin before turning and walking proudly towards the back stairs. Gaav stood there and watched her walking away from him with an appreciative gleam in his eye before he followed in her wake. He took in her appearance: Her fiery hair gleamed in the early morning sunlight and her pale skin glowed against the dark blue and black of her caftan. The light wrap she had thrown over her shoulders was black cotton and richly embroidered in a myriad of thick, rich embroidery. The same was true of the scarf that graced her nicely shaped hips, except it was beaded in shades of blue and gold and had a long, beaded fringe on the lower edge. He loved watching her walk; the sway of her hips was hypnotizing. So much so, in fact, that he missed the bottom step and stumbled a bit, causing her to look back over her shoulder at him curiously.

“You okay?” she asked.

Quickly ducking his head to hide the flush he felt on his cheeks, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just missed the step. They need to put a lantern down here,” he said, even though it was already well-lit. He waved her on. “Go on. I’m hungry.”

Zaira gave him a funny little look, but didn’t say anything more. She moved out into the street and Gaav fell into step beside her. The sun was barely up and yet it was already quite busy. “You usually up this early every day?” he asked, wondering how any decent person could get up before the sun every day. He was a night person, himself; his early rising today was an aberration.

Her red curls bounced as she nodded. “Yes. It’s the best time of the day to visit the market. You get the freshest bread and fruit. And it isn’t as hot now as it will be later. And it’s not as crowded, either.”

Nodding, he grunted an agreement. “So what do you do during the day?” It was then he realized he really didn’t know very much about her.

She shrugged. “I get up, visit the marketplace, drop some things off with a merchant that will sell them for me, buy breakfast and go to Stacia’s rooming house to eat. Then we usually spend the day working on our wares. Then it’s to Derry’s to dance. That’s about it.”

“Working? What sort of work?”

“Stacia is a seamstress and I do embroidery work. I usually do small things like scarves, but I also work on the clothes that Stacia makes and she splits her profits with me. It’s a nice arrangement because my work helps her get a better price for her things, and she can sell them.” She wended her way through the lanes already thick with the morning crowd to the baker’s shop. “I’ll get some bread,” she threw over her shoulder as she entered the shop.

Gaav followed behind her, distracted and not really paying attention until he saw another woman buying the same type of bread that Zaira had picked up, and yet Zaira was quoted a price that was twice what the others were being asked to pay. Anger flaring, he pushed forward and took the bread from Zaira.

“You know,” he said loudly enough for the person behind the counter to hear, “I owe you breakfast. Let me pay for it.”

“But—“

He ignored her, instead turning to the clerk and staring flatly at her. “How much?”

The girl looked frightened as she looked from Gaav to Zaira and back again. “Twelve coppers,” she said shakily. The same price everyone else was paying.

“That’s what I thought you said.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coins and threw them on the counter. Handing the bread to Zaira, he took her arm and steered her out of the shop.

“What…What was all that about?” she asked, astounded as soon as they were away from the shop and he let go of her arm.

“They were over-charging you,” he growled. “Does this happen all the time?”

“Oh.” Carefully wrapping the bread in a cloth she had in her basket, she nodded. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you let your friend buy the food then?”

She shrugged. “Because.”

“Not a good reason,” he growled. “You let them take advantage of you.”

Stopping, she turned her glare on him. “Don’t you start with me. There’s some things you know nothing about.” Sighing, Zaira turned and started walking again. “I’ve learned to adjust. Listen, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but things aren’t going to change overnight. And, you realize, that tomorrow when I go to buy bread, the price will most likely be three times what they usually ask.”

“Then don’t go there,” he said.

“It’s the only place that will sell me bread for less than a silver piece,” she said, her voice hard.

“Then I’ll buy it for you. They wouldn’t dare do that with me.”

“You’re going to get up every morning and go buy bread just for me?” she asked. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that so ridiculous?” he demanded. “I don’t understand why you let them take advantage of you.”

She took a deep breath and he could hear her mumble something under her breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘bastard.’ “Gaavan…I don’t let them take advantage of me. Everyone knows that Stacia’s my friend, and because she dares to befriend a Pari half-breed, they charge her even more than they do me. But, there are a few people in this city that aren’t as bad. The woman that runs the Red Dragon, for instance. She lets me stay there for just a few coppers because I help do the mending for both the inn and the tenants. There are several merchants here that will sell me thread and material for the same prices they charge everyone else; there’s even one whose sister is a Pari half-breed, and he gives me a cut rate price because he knows what I’ve been through. So it’s not all bad.” She looked up at him. “Do you understand now? It’s a matter of balance. I’ve managed to work it so that yes, I might have to pay a little more for bread, but I also save a little in other areas as well.”

In a moment of revelation, Gaav realized that what he had mistaken for anger when he’d first met her, was in fact, much more complex. He’d labeled her a bitch queen, but that wasn’t really who she was at all. Instead, he was beginning to understand that she was a survivor, strong and proud and ready and willing to do what was needed to make her life better despite overwhelming odds. She was resourceful enough to have lasted ten years in this place with her pride and spirit intact. He’d borne the brunt of her anger and resentment because he had acted exactly like those people that treated her so poorly—a fact he regretted now.

“Zaira,” he said softly. “I…” He didn’t know what to say, and realized that he really needed to say something.

She, however, seemed satisfied that she had finally managed to make him understand, for she smiled ruefully and touched his sleeve. “It’s okay. I know you meant well. And I really do appreciate your concern. It’s…Very few have actually taken the time to try and understand what my life has been like.”

Gruffly, to cover his embarrassment, he shrugged. “Just trying my best to get you to change your opinion of me.” He grinned, however.

Blushing again, Zaira looked down. “I guess I didn’t exactly make it easy for you, did I?”

“Stop that.” Chuckling, he nudged her. “Come on. Let’s finish up. I’m hungry.”

She laughed brightly, gave him a smile and nodded. “Okay. So am I.” She twirled around and danced along the lane in front of him. He followed, watching her with a stupid grin on his face.

Their path lead them through the maze of the marketplace and finally to Faruk’s stall. She danced up to the merchant and put her basket on the counter. “Well met, Faruk.”

“Ah! Well met, Zaira,” the oily merchant said with a professional smile. “What do you have for me today?”

Zaira pulled several scarves from her basket and laid them in front of him. “These,” she said.

He fingered them, nodding his approval. “Beautiful. Beautiful,” he said, holding them up to get a better look at them. Gaav stood behind Zaira, and watched closely. The man she’d called Faruk spread the scarves out on the counter in front of him and examined the embroidery work. All of them were similar to the scarf she wore around her shoulders, each one unique. One was black with peacocks picked out in gold thread. Another was a deep blue with a rich floral motif. The others were just as exquisitely done.

Faruk put the one he’d been handling down and beamed at her. “Beautiful!” he exclaimed. “As always. Your work brings me the highest prices, Zaira! I will be glad to sell them for you—for fifty percent.”

Eyes snapping upwards, Gaav stared hard at the little merchant. Faruk shifted a little under this sudden, intense scrutiny, eyes darting sideways nervously. “Fifty percent?” Gaav growled, low and dangerous.

Zaira opened her mouth to silence him, but before she could, he held up a hand, silencing her. His steely eyes bored into Faruk’s who fidgeted nervously. Clearing his throat, he gathered what little courage he had and looked up at Gaav.

“Respected sir, I am in the middle of business negotiations with—“

“No, you’re not. You’re in the middle of robbing her.” He put his large hand down on the counter and leaned over in such a way that the hilt of his sword, sticking up over his right shoulder, was very prominently displayed. The morning sun glinted off the red gem in the pommel, and cast a red light right over Faruk’s heart. “If you want to negotiate, you’re going to have to negotiate with me.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Zaira move off a few paces and turn away, but not before he caught a glimpse of a grimace on her face.

Anger burned deep inside him and he was determined to show her once and for all that he was right. He turned his full attention on Faruk, who broke into a sweat as he came under that steely gaze. “Let’s talk about how much you’re going to charge Zaira to sell her wares, shall we?” the Chaos Dragon purred, a deep rumble that promised much pain if crossed. “What’s your normal cut?”

“F-forty percent, most kind and noble sir…” Faruk stammered.

“Forty percent?!” Gaav spat, truly taken aback at the exorbitant figure. “That’s thievery!”

“B-but…The taxes, the fees…” the little merchant sputtered helplessly.

Leaning forward, Gaav gently wrapped the material of the other man’s shirt around one fist. It was quite apparent he could have lifted the shorter man off the ground with little effort. “And just how much would it cost you to cover those? Would it really cost you forty percent of what you’d get?” His voice, usually low and menacing to begin with, was deadly calm—and all the more dangerous because of that.

“N-no…But I must make a decent profit—“

“Your profit be damned,” Gaav said, still in that calm voice. He released Faruk and smoothed out his shirt where he’d grasped it. “Now, a more reasonable number would be, oh…Ten percent?”

“Ten per—!” Faruk nearly bit his tongue off as he tried unsuccessfully to keep his indignant exclamation behind his teeth.

“Too much?” Gaav purred. “Five percent?”

Realizing that if he protested again, he’d lose even more of his profits, Faruk nodded vigorously.

“Good.” Gaav didn’t move. “Now…How about you give her an advance on your expected sales—as a show of good faith. Say half?”

Furious, but helpless to do anything about it, the merchant wordlessly pulled out his money box, reached inside, and carefully dealt out a large stack of coins. He shoved them towards Gaav, refusing to look at either him or Zaira.

Scooping up the coins, Gaav grinned that lopsided grin of his at Faruk. The one that proclaimed that, yes, he was a bastard and he knew it. “Good doing business with you,” he said as he straightened and turned to Zaira. Almost immediately, he turned back to Faruk. “Oh, and we’ll be back when the market closes to pick up the rest.” He sketched a mocking salute in the merchant’s direction then turned his back on him to take Zaira by the elbow and lead her out of the marketplace.

He didn’t realize he had such a tight hold on her until she managed to jerk her arm away and turn on him. “Do you mind?” she demanded, her face contorting with some strange emotion as she rubbed her arm. “What do you think you were doing back there?”

“Keeping you from getting robbed,” he said, his voice gruff. “Look, I know what you’re going to say about things being in balance, but there’s no way in Hell you can tell me that taking forty percent of what he makes from the sale of your merchandise is part of your precious balance!”

The tiny woman glared up at him as he loomed over her, hands on his hips and fire in his eye. “What makes you think it is?”

“Because you were scowling at me during the entire time I was negotiating with that slimeball!”

“How could you know? You had your back to me!”

“I could feel it, and don’t tell me you weren’t!”

“I wasn’t!”

“I told you—“ he broke off as her face twisted and she turned away from him. “Huh?” Thinking that he’d done something terrible, he put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her around. Her hands covered her face and her shoulders shook. “Dammit, Zaira,” he said, using gruffness to cover his dismay. “What did I do wrong this time?”

She dropped her hands and held them out, shaking her head. He drew back as he found that instead of weeping as he’d thought, she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Helplessly, she pointed at him and had to lean against the wall for support.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” he demanded, confusion making him angry.

“You!” she finally managed to get out.

“Why me?” He was yelling now, not used to being laughed at. And definitely not when he was trying to help her. “You think helping make your life better is a laughing matter?” he snarled at her.

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Zaira said quickly, stifling her laughter. She stepped forward and grabbed his coat lapels and looked up at him, her large eyes shining. “You were wonderful! You handled Faruk perfectly! Exactly the way that little snake needed to be handled—and only you could have done it.” She laughed again and leaned her forehead against his chest. “I thought he was going to wet himself!”

If Zaira had been looking up at Gaav’s face right at that moment, she would have been sure to break into more gales of laughter., he thought as his fury dissipated as quickly as it had gathered. Helplessly, he stood there, arms dangling at his sides, staring down at the top of her head and wondering whether he’d been the butt of some joke or not.

Finally, she managed to get control of herself and, as if she had only just realized that she was leaning against him, straightened and stepped back away from him, a soft blush reddening her cheeks prettily. It was only then that he realized the missed opportunity. He raised his arms in an attempt to draw her back to him, but she was already moving away, wiping at her eyes and straightening her hair. She glanced up at the sun and grabbed his arm. “Come on! I’m late!”

Stumbling along in her wake, he let himself be pulled through the marketplace, down a side street and around to the back entrance to a boarding house. Zaira pushed him towards a bench. “Wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And before he could even say anything, she disappeared into the house.

Too stunned to do anything else, he found himself settling on the bench. When he realized what he was doing, he jumped up again and glared at it as if it had had the audacity to insult him. Grumbling, he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the bench, leaning his head back against it, to wait.

Slayers copyright 1991-2000 by Hajime Kanzaka/Rui Araizumi/Kadokawa Shoten/TV TOKYO/SOFTX/Marubeni.
The other characters copyright Wendy W Lee.