Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) by Jonathan Moeller Read Free Book Online Page B

Claudia to prepare for a potential siege.
    And, perhaps, to eliminate a few Umbarian agents in the process.
    She strode through the Cyrican Bazaar, and the crowds filling the market parted around her, thanks to the escort of Imperial Guards. Well, she tried to stride anyway. The child in her belly had thrown off her center of gravity, and the pain in her ankles made it hard to stride. At best she could manage sort of a hasty waddle, but she hoped it was a dignified waddle. Claudia reached the bakery at the far end of the bazaar. Istarinmul had dozens of bakeries. Some focused on preparing delicacies for the emirs and the wealthy merchants, cakes and tarts and pastries and the like. Others made as much bread as cheaply as possible, selling it to the Wazir of the Treasury to distribute to the city’s poorer citizens. Claudia had a suspicion that a good deal of sawdust and dead beetles turned up in those loaves. The bakery of Kassam Aydin had a good reputation, and Claudia had purchased a large quantity of bread from him over the last few months.
    And if she was right, the Umbarian Order had noticed that.
    The Guards opened the door for her. Tylas and Dromio went in first. The centurion’s hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, and even Dromio had taken to wearing a short sword, though Claudia didn’t know if he knew how to use the thing. She went up the steps to the door, trying not to grunt as she did so, and entered the bakery. 
    It was always hot inside Master Kassam’s bakery, thanks to the rows of brick ovens lining the walls of the large square room. A score of slaves in gray tunics toiled at the long wooden tables running the bakery’s length, kneading dough and preparing the loaves for the ovens. At the rear of the room, upon a raised dais, stood the work area of the more skilled bakers, most of them freeborn journeymen. They made the elaborate cakes and pastries that Master Kassam sold to his wealthier customers. 
    Kassam Aydin himself hurried across the floor, bowing with every other step as he did so. Claudia had yet to meet a baker who did not carry an extra thirty or forty pounds, and Kassam was no exception, though he was tall enough that the extra weight made him look vigorous rather than plump. He had a bushy black beard, stark against the bronze skin of his face, and black hair turning to gray.
    “My most noble and august lady Claudia,” said Kassam, bowing over her hand and placing a dry kiss upon her signet ring, “you do me great honor. What can Kassam bake for you this day? I see you are very close to the blessed day of birth. What a splendid day that shall be! Perhaps I can bake a cake to celebrate the occasion, frosted in the colors of your lord husband and your noble Emperor.” 
    “That sounds pleasant,” said Claudia with a smile. Truth be told, a sweet cake did sound nice. The Istarish liked so much turmeric and cumin and garlic in their food that Claudia often had a hard time keeping her meals down. “But I fear my needs are far more prosaic. Several thousand loaves, delivered to the Lord Ambassador’s mansion in the Emirs’ Quarter. My seneschal has the details.” 
    Dromio produced a letter containing the exact specifications for the order, all of it written in formal Istarish by one of Martin’s scribes. Kassam scrutinized it, nodded, and began haggling. Of course, it was beneath the dignity of an Imperial noblewoman to haggle with a mere tradesman, so Dromio stepped forward to handle the negotiations. Claudia found the whole thing annoying. She would rather have signed a contract for future deliveries, but the Istarish considering it insulting to bypass the haggling. 
    Still, it had its uses. 
    Claudia remained aloof and silent as Dromio and Kassam argued, but her eyes swept the bakery. It was possible one or more of the slaves were Umbarian spies, passing information to the Order in exchange for money. She didn’t think any of the slaves would be Silent Hunters, though.