Cold Fire (Spiritwalker 2)
“I had a long talk with his mother and aunts. I would trust Kofi with my life, and they raised him to be that man I trust. Kayleigh’s a smart girl. She’ll find a way to use the mansa’s money to help the household prosper.”
“Did I miss something when I slept on the boat? What did Kofi mean about you being the net thrown across the ocean?”
“I’ll join the general’s army but work secretly for the radical cause.”
“‘Risks must be taken if we mean to get what we want.’”
“I wonder who said those words.”
“I just did. But I am quoting Brennan Du.” I tightened my grip to make his eyes flare at the pressure. “My next husband.”
A pair of wagons sat unattended, loaded with bricks. Vai dragged me to the other side of the harnessed mules where two might pretend to have a little privacy. There, he kissed me until I was breathless.
“You will not be needing a next husband.”
“You’re so easy to bait. Anyway, you’re being jealous of a man you’ve never even seen.”
“Of course I’ve seen him, twice, which I know you know perfectly well. I saw the way you smiled at him at the Griffin Inn.”
I fluttered my lashes. “I was wondering what it would be like to be kissed by a handsome man.”
“Wonder no more.” He cupped my chin in a hand as he kissed me again.
“Here, now,” said the young wagoner, coming up, “none of that. Yee’s scaring the mules. Nice jacket, though. Where get yee such tailoring?”
Vai released me and checked his jacket to make sure it wasn’t askew or rumpled. “Europa.”
“Ah, yee’s a maku. No cause to go stealing Expedition gals with yee fine clothes and fat purse.”
“In fact, she is my wife.”
The wagoner did not look one bit impressed, and as he was a stocky, muscular man, his grin had an air of confidence. “Gal, yee don’ want a man who dress he own self better than he dress yee. If yee get tired of that one, come climb me mango tree. I shall buy yee pretty finery and as many ribbons and beads and baubles as yee desire.”
“Shall yee?” I asked with interest and in a pretty fair imitation of the local speech. “How many? Shall they come from Avenue Kolonkan?”
“That way, is it?” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“In fact,” said Vai, “it is not that way. I am buying her nothing from Avenue Kolonkan.”
“Is yee not?” said the wagoner with a look at me to see how I would take this proclamation.
“Shall yee not?” I asked with unfeigned surprise.
“To do so would offend my radical principles. Nor are the mules scared. And by the way, half the tailors on Tailors’ Row in Passaporte have taken patterns from this very jacket. So you will not offend your radical principles by purchasing from them.”
“See why I love he?” I said, simpering as I batted my eyelids again. “Some men court me with baubles, but he court me with radical principles.”
Unfortunately, the wagoner was far more interested in Vai’s dash jackets than my wit. “Tailors’ Row in Passaporte District. Truly?”
“At a tenth of the price a man would pay on Avenue Kolonkan. And the money goes into the pocket of the tailor who made it and not into the purse of the fancy shopkeeper who pays least wages to workers who are little better than indentured servants.”
“I like that talk!” said the other fellow. He and Vai shook hands and had a moment of deep connection with firm, masculine smiles and fiery comments about the corrupt Council, last month’s infamous raid at Nance’s, and whether the poor of Expedition would boycott the wedding areito despite the bounty of free food sure to be available there. I had to drag Vai away or I would have been left conversing with the mules.
“I hope you have not been spending money on Avenue Kolonkan,” he said, taking my hand.
“Looking is not spending! Anyway, the tips I earned at Aunty Djeneba’s aren’t enough to buy a single ribbon in any of those shops.”
“Kofi is going to set Aunty straight about what happened. I hope you don’t blame them.”