The curse of the jewels, book 1 - The Peasant Queen

I - Boulden nowadays. (2/2)

A hand went up, too quickly for him to identify its owner. A few tösihons(1) later, the woman raised the bid to two hundred and fifty cels.

"Two hundred and fifty cels for the beautiful lady in front of me, who bids more, who will go up to three hundred?"

"Two hundred and fifty cels."

"Two hundred and fifty cels, nobody offers more? She's a princess all the same."

"Two hundred and sixty cels," the woman called out.

"Two hundred and sixty-five cels," said her opponent after a moment's hesitation.

There was no hesitation, however, when the unknown woman went up to three hundred. The other immediately raised the bid.

The merchant's curiosity was aroused; he wanted to know the identity of this woman and he began to hope that she had the cash to win the sale. He had been quick to eliminate her from the list of potential buyers. Neither she nor her opponent seemed to be counting the expense. Perhaps she was considering selling her ruby, which was well worth ten times that amount. Soon, the five hundred cels bid was attained and passed. Everyone was holding their breath at what was obviously no longer a sale, but a duel.

They were approaching one thousand cels. He was on the verge of fainting. The best sale of the day without his accomplices having to intervene to artificially raise the stakes. And all this for a simple peasant girl, a bit of henna and a piece of fake gold jewel for a quarter of a cel. He had never made such a good deal.

The one thousand cels bid was attained. It was the male voice that called out the bid. The unknown woman hesitated a few vinsihons(2) The salesman hoped she would go up further, but he was convinced she had come to the end of what she could afford, she couldn't go any higher.

"One thousand one hundred cels", she finally called out.

He tried to interpret the shadow that went through her blue eyes. She was bluffing, she didn't have the money. Her companion leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She pushed him away.

"You're taking very big risks, beautiful stranger. You know what it costs to bid more than you have."

"I'm well aware of that," she replied in a clear voice.

"That's fine, do you maintain your bid, or do you retract?"

She thought for a moment.

"I don't have all of that with me, I can have the rest tomorrow," she said finally.

"You know the rule. The purchase must be paid immediately after the sale. Otherwise, the transaction isn't valid."

"Only one day delay, the time it takes for the banks to open their doors. I have sufficient credit in Nasïlia Bank."

"Sorry," he lied.

She conferred with her companion for a moment. From his stall, he didn't hear what they were saying. However, the young man's reaction was revealing. He didn't like what she said. She looked up at the slave trader.

"Just off the cuff, I can't have more than a thousand cels," she said finally, "I hadn't expected the bids to go up so high."

"So, you give up?"

"No, I'm just adding something else in payment."

"And what's that? An IOU. I can't accept it."

"One night with me."

"A night? What for?"

"Leave that to your imagination."

She took off the veil that hid the lower part of her face, revealing her beautiful features and her mouth painted red like Hanse women. There was something else even more remarkable. The slave trader's eyes immediately fell on golden volute lines on her cheeks and small blue diamonds embedded in her skin. The ruby on her forehead wasn't a jewel. It was part of her, like all the stones in her body. Then he immediately recognized her. This face was famous among slave traders. Before Boulden, the Orvbel dynasty had controlled the slave trade. And this woman had been their queen a long time ago, almost twenty years ago. He didn't know anything about her people of origin, perhaps she was from Sangär; the design on her face reminded him so much of their style. Had she come to help a fellow countrywoman? Hadn't she not recognized a foreign peasant girl? Or was it the custom of her people, who made it a point of honor to treat anyone presented as Sangären as Sangären so as never to lose face in public? Did she really belong to that degenerate race?