Den of Smoke: Absolutely gripping fantasy page turner filled with magic and betrayal. Christopher Byford

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СКАЧАТЬ what I provide is worthwhile to you people and I should be getting something more out of it. When things go missing, I have to answer questions to dock managers. It puts a sweat on a man. One day they might be forceful with how they ask me, you know? Might end up accidentally saying something that would embarrass Jack.’

      Something didn’t quite add up to Cole as he asked for the clipboard from Alvina’s hands. He had looked at it over her shoulder, keeping himself quiet. The more he examined it, the more perplexed he became. The woman relinquished the paperwork. Cole flicked through the pages in turn.

      ‘Looking over this, the best thing that you’ve got loaded up on the Ajana is three crates of Muskratt wine. They would go for two hundred each, at a conservative estimate. We couldn’t split it and bulk is always cheaper. Now, I’m guessing you make … thirty a trip? Forty, max? You’re a box loader, so it’s not like you have a decent route for progression, plus the turnover of your kind is …’ Cole licked his lips ‘…considerable. Plenty of people can drag about a crate. It isn’t the finest skill, though if you’re implying that it’s yours then I suggest you raise your aspirations.’

      ‘Aspirations?’ He repeated the word a couple of times, stumbling over the pronunciation. ‘Is your boy here trying to insult me?’

      ‘Shut. Up.’ Alvina fired back bluntly. ‘Cole, what are you getting at?’

      ‘If we sell this at back-alley prices, even without negotiation – we can take another ten per cent away, it’s barely going to be worth our time. We pay you how much?’

      ‘Too much.’ Alvina kept her gaze upon Phillipe.

      ‘Thirty a manifest,’ he revealed.

      Cole howled in amusement. ‘Shit, with that on top, we’re basically losing money handling this stuff. We could use our time a lot more productively. If he wants to play hard, we can let him go.’

      Alvina smirked.

      ‘Well, let’s not be too hasty.’ Phillipe recoiled, spluttering on his cigarette smoke.

      ‘Hasty is good,’ she rebutted.

      ‘I would recommend that we drop this little arrangement.’ Cole tossed the manifest to its owner who caught it clumsily.

      ‘Now, now hold on!’ Phillipe tossed his cigar stub off the dock in alarm. ‘I’m not saying we should give up on our agreement for good –’

      ‘Seems like it would be the sensible thing to do,’ Alvina coldly stated, indifferent to any sort of panic that he exhibited.

      ‘Twenty-five!’ he blurted out. ‘Twenty-five a manifest.’

      Cole snorted sarcastically, needing to turn away.

      ‘Twenty,’ Alvina offered, ‘and you keep that attitude in check. We have something nice and steady happening here and your aspirations are ruining it.’

      ‘I understand. I got it.’

      She coughed loudly holding out a flat palm. Phillipe rushed so much to give her the change that he almost dropped the rest. Alvina stuffed the notes into a pocket, leaving him with her last piece of advice. ‘Make sure you do.’

      It took them until they left the docks before Alvina finally addressed Cole with her thoughts.

      ‘Good work there.’

      ‘It’s nice to finally be of some sort of use. I was getting tired of all the crap jobs.’ He smiled in relief.

      ‘I would say you’ve stepped up. Jack’ll be happy with that performance.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘As long as I tell it right.’

      Cole crinkled up his face, unsure if that was a threat. Alvina nudged him playfully.

      ‘What’s next on the docket, Little Fish?’

      Cole scanned his list. ‘We’re meeting someone by the name of Kalie –’ He squinted at his handwriting and attempted the pronunciation again, stumbling each time.

      ‘Don’t bother,’ Alvina interjected. ‘Her parents weren’t kind to her on the naming front.’

      ‘The owner of the Bread & Batter.’ Cole skipped over the name as requested. ‘We have a sit-down with her at eight to discuss this week’s demand about repercussions.’

      ‘Someone looks at the woman badly and she insists we do something about it. Such a thorn. We have over an hour so what say we get something to eat? Your treat.’

      ‘Sure.’ Cole folded his ledger, only half hearing before finally stopping in realization. ‘Wait, I’m doing what now?’

      * * *

      The smells of Cook’s Alley were mesmerizing. Never had Cole experienced such a cacophony of aromas. Each stall was a bustle of noise with the talk of customers and the sizzle of grills, pans and woks. It was a place where food from all corners could be consumed, exotic dishes emanating from places few had heard of. The customers were usually labourers, looking for somewhere always open with hot, cheap food. It helped of course that the alcohol was just as varied, ranging from the incredible to the downright harmful. A handful of change could get someone a skinful, suiting the dockhands just fine.

      Alvina was in her element. Everything about Cook’s Alley was delightful. The constant din of spatulas slapping meat and riotous laughter was a comfort. She visited at least once a week to indulge in her own personal euphoria. Usually this was a solitary affair, but seeing that Cole was of Settler blood she deemed it decent of her to share the experience.

      ‘Come on, we’re eating. All this has made me hungry.’

      Cole glanced around at the vendors. He would rather put himself in front of a fireplace with a brandy and eat something resembling an actual meal than … whatever this was.

      ‘Where? Here?’

      ‘Oh what, do you have an aversion to street vendors, pretty boy? Afraid you’ll get grease on your nice, clean shirts?’ Alvina followed up her sarcasm with a batting of her eyelashes.

      ‘It’s not that. I’ve just never …’

      She took him by the hand and pulled him over towards a nearby stall. ‘Then it’ll be an experience. Take that stick from your backside and park it down on a seat. This place will do.’

      The only thing the stall was suitable for was contracting food poisoning. Everywhere he looked there was something that made him cringe – a disregard for cleanliness being the biggest culprit. The owner danced rice around in a pan, took a tumbler of wine to his lips then doused the pan’s contents with half of the drink. Jets of flame launched around as the alcohol ignited. All the cook did in response was drink the rest of the wine. The rice was slid into a bowl and garnished with who-knows-what before finally being slid across to a patron covered in too much hair and too many tattoos.

      ‘You should know I don’t judge a person by what they drink, only where they drink it,’ Cole grumbled.

      ‘Lucky СКАЧАТЬ