Silas’ mouth opened in mock horror at the offensively low price, even going so far to press a hand to his chest as if Anders had personally offended not only Silas himself, but Silas’ entire family line for the past four centuries. “Good sir, I understand wanting a good luck charm for your sister, but surely it means nothing if you do so by robbing my own grandchildren! What kind of world would they live in if their poor grandfather was forced to sell his goods for such a paltry price?”
“Hmmm….” Anders thought for a moment, as if reconsidering his offer, abashed by the low price he had offered. “Then how about 17 marks? And speaking of the world your grandchildren will live in, it’s too bad about Jackson Elias.” Anders made eye contact with Silas, attempting to coral the man’s wandering conversation onto topics that might hold answers. “Killed dead! All of his works, come to an end.”
“Well, ah, I really couldn’t take a mere, a pitiful 17 marks, I mean, quite honestly. The, uh, workmanship, if you look rather closely here,” Silas jabbed a finger fairly randomly at the elephant, barely looking at it. In fact, it really seemed as if he was looking everywhere but at Anders. A nervous tic appeared as well, a minor twitch in his right cheek, as he spoke. Anders hardly needed his years of experience to tell that Silas was rather put off by more than just the still-low price he had quoted; any greenhorn with the Court would have seen the signs. “The workmanship, yes, quite good. And look at the carvings here as well. I think I can go no lower than perhaps 27 or 30 marks; anything further would simply be too much, too much indeed.” His nervous tic fluttered a few more times, and then vanished as Silas’ gaze returned to meet Anders’, his jaw working as he restored his calm. He even forced a slight smile.
Finally looking down at the elephant, where Silas had pointed, before looking back up, he continued his story as if Silas had responded and not directed the conversation abruptly away, obviously ignoring Anders’ previous comments on Elias. “Yeah! My brother works for one of the papers, and he says it’ll be all over the news tomorrow. They actually caught the people that did it! Parthans, apparently. And I’ll give you 20 marks.”As Anders spoke, Egil moved slightly, turning to keep the rest of the store in view. His eyes scanned over the other people, marking them and watching them, ready to respond if they moved to interrupt Anders’ conversation as it reached a critical point.
The change that came over Silas was surprising, not for its suddenness nor end result - Anders had seen many men go that still as if poleaxed, whether by the impact of a sentence or a fist - but for its completeness. All people have innate, instinctual reactions when surprised or paralyzed with shock, minute tells that give much away. No such thing with Silas; his expression had gone utterly still, the forced smile still frozen on his face. After several beats - and Anders could feel his heart rate going up a tiny little bit as he felt the tension rise in the room - Silas began moving again, reaching under the counter to fetch out some newspaper. He wrapped the elephant in it with brisk, experienced movements, and handed it to Anders - but kept his hand on top of it, reaching across the counter. His eyes glittered with concealed menace as he stared into Anders’, and his grin grew yet more forced, almost like a rictus, exposing his bared teeth. “Good day, sir. I think it’s best that you head back to your sister now; in such a cruel world, we would not want anything… untoward to happen.”
Some movement drew Egil’s attention, and he turned to see one of the solitary men step closer to them, beads of sweat obviously forming on his forehead. It was clear to Egil - or at least so he would claim - that he meant nothing good; and besides, his bulky clothing could hide anything underneath it. Even if he was a complete innocent, the tension between Anders and Silas had reached a critical point. It would be foolish to let someone interrupt it, to give Silas an ‘out’. He moved nonchalantly, stepping past Anders to inspect a carved mask on a display case behind them, facing the sweaty Parthan. As he did so, he made sure to brush back his coat, revealing the subdued gleam of a well-oiled gun underneath, before looking up to make eye contact with the man. A slight smile sufficed to make the man pause in his tracks, the combination of nonchalance and menace sending a quiver of fear up his spine.
Anders reached to accept the elephant, slowly putting his hand under it as if that would be that here at the Juju House, before grabbing Silas’ wrist instead, tugging him closer across the counter, before saying casually, quietly, “Oh, my sister isn’t expecting me back for a while.” Anders paused, as he fixed his gaze past Silas, as if he didn’t have the man’s wrist in a vise grip. “And since we’re getting to know each other so well, I don’t think she’d mind if I didn’t rush home.”
“Oh, sir,” Silas said, the forced smile growing even wider until it almost felt unnaturally stretched, “I think we know each other a great deal more than either of us think we do.” He paused. “Just like Mr. Elias and I understood each other - although he did not particularly care for that knowledge at the end.” His expression was challenging, practically taunting Anders. Silas knew that Anders knew, and he did not particularly care if Anders knew that either; his confidence was rather unnerving. The man was old and probably feeble, and from the looks of his shop was neither rich nor powerful. Yet he spoke with utter and complete confidence that it was Anders that was the powerless one, rather than the interrogator. Something more was afoot. Something Anders could not yet discern.
Anders’ eyes narrowed, as he released his grip on Silas’ wrist, taking the elephant. He shifted it to his other hand, before leaning against the counter to maintain the proximity and confidential air of the conversation. “And what’s got you so sure of yourself?” Anders said, needling the man, seeing if his confidence was but a ruse to cover feelings of being cornered. He continued, nonchalantly. “The Court has known about your little operation through Emerson Imports for a while now. Happy to let you be if it didn’t cut into the bottom line. But now Elias has been offed, and, well… that’s bad business. The Court thinks it’s time you get square with them.”
A flash of something - Anders could not tell if it was malice or amusement - stretched across Silas’ face before the man resumed his rather irritating smiling. He stepped back a half-step from the counter - still within arm’s reach, Anders noted - and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Well, I certainly have no such knowledge of any such horrible or awful things that are going on in this city, let alone a hand in it. Nonetheless, I’ll hold my tongue.” Silas winked slowly, assuring Anders that this was no unfortunate turn of phrase, but a distinct reference to Elias’ mutilation. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of the Court. Take your pound of flesh, confiscate what you will from my humble shop.”
Arching an eyebrow at the offer, Anders turned as if to take in the contents of the shop once more, to decide what would be acceptable tribute to pay the Court’s dues, before stopping and turning back to SIlas. He reached over the counter, and before SIlas could move away, he caught the leather thong about the man’s neck, tugging it, pulling it up to reveal a small brass key at the end. A smile spread across his face, nearly a match to SIlas’ own, as if he knew he had found something worth taking. “How about this? This and whatever you’ve hidden away with it?”