Page 83 of Disturbing the Dead
When Mrs. Wallace slows at a stall, I fall back a step, eager for any insight into our housekeeper. I have no idea what would catch her eye, and when I find her skimming a table of shuriken, I’m not sure whether I’m surprised or completely unsurprised.
“Oooh, throwing stars,” I say. “If I bought one, would you teach me how to use it?”
She moves on without comment, and I tell myself that if I catch her looking at anything else, I need to be stealthier.
Queen Mab has also slowed. She’s eyeing a cloth covered with what looks like bits of gnarled root. When her fingers reach down to touch a root, the stall keeper tears herself from another customer and races over.
“You have fine taste, my lady,” the woman says. “That comes from darkest Arabia, where the unknown plant was found growing from the footprints of a djinn.”
Queen Mab looks at the shopkeeper. Says nothing. Just looks until sweat beads on the woman’s forehead. Then Queen Mab murmurs, “You have mistaken your audience, ma’am,” and moves on, ignoring the woman’s entreaties and apologies.
Another stall catches her eye. This one is jewels, mostly raw and unpolished, some little more than cut stones showing the treasures inside.
Queen Mab looks at a few. Then her gaze settles on a stone with a sliver cut away to show brilliant green.
Again, the shopkeeper—this time a middle-aged man—hurries over.
“If you tell me it is a dragon’s eye, you lose a potential customer,” she says. “I have no time for that nonsense.”
“Yes, my lady. I know who you are, and I would not make that mistake.”
“Excellent.”
She lifts the stone. The man tenses, as if he would stop anyone else. For her, he only stays tense and tries to smile as she tests the weight and lifts it to her eye and then uses a magnifying lens from her pocket.
“I might be interested in this. What sort of trade are you seeking?”
He licks his lips. “The one you have brought would do nicely.”
Queen Mab glances my way. My gaze falls to my carpetbag, and my grip tightens on it.
“What I bring?” she says.
“Yes, my lady. It is a rare specimen. Priceless, in fact, and I know you are not offering it for possession, but only for the borrowing. For one evening, I would give you that stone.”
“An evening with…” My gaze returns to the bag.
“That is not what he means.” Queen Mab’s voice is ice. “Although he may wish it was.”
“Then what does…” I look up to see the man’s gaze fixed on my half-bared bosom. “Oh.”
When Queen Mab speaks again, her voice is cool silk. “You wish to buy my young friend.”
“Borrow, for an evening. That is why she is here, is she not? For trade.”
“You believe I would trade a human being? Look at me, and tell me whether you honestly think I would trade a person.”
Her voice is still low, but all around us, people have gone still to listen.
“Even America no longer trades in human beings,” she says. “And yet you think I would?”
“N-not trade. M-merely lend.”
“Lend you her body for my gain? How would that make me any different? This young woman is a friend of mine. A friend. That is not a polite euphemism.” She meets his gaze. “You see a pretty girl and naturally presume she is for sale?”
He stammers wordlessly. Seemingly from nowhere, a woman appears, dressed in gray the color of the swirling smoke. She’s on the other side of the stall, and I tense, expecting trouble, but she says to the man, “You are no longer welcome here. Pack your things.”
“No,” Queen Mab says. “Please do not expel him on my account. He has made a mistake and paid the price of a lost sale. That is enough.”
