"I think we should take it."
Seris said it over dinner like she was commenting on the weather. Wine in one hand, fork in the other, the casual tone of a woman who had already made up her mind.
Cabrian had come back three days ago for a follow-up meeting. Katarina hadn’t been in the room for that one, which meant Seris had deliberately scheduled it while Katarina was at school, which meant Seris had become somewhat uncomfortable with Kat’s interjections, lately.
[Noted. Be more careful.]
But not right now. Right now, she needed to be loud.
"The Cabrian contract?" Katarina asked.
"Mhm. Five years of stable supply at fifteen percent below market. It gives us room to reinvest."
"What happens when the contract renews?"
Seris glanced at her. "We renegotiate."
"What if he raises prices?"
"Then we find another supplier."
"Which supplier?"
Seris’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Kat pressed further.
"He’s already locked out the Parenna and the Duccetti," Katarina said. She kept her voice flat. Just a kid stating facts she happened to know. "They signed the same contract. Didn’t they? Neither of them can source independently anymore because they dismantled their old supply lines to accommodate his delivery schedule. If he raises their prices at renewal, they can’t leave, because the termination fee is three years of contract value."
The table went quiet.
[... Did I go too hard?]
Brynn looked at Seris. Seris looked at Katarina. Katarina picked up a piece of bread and took a bite.
"Where did you hear that?" Seris asked.
"Around."
"Around?"
"Vessa’s family runs a dry goods shop on the harbor. People talk."
That was partially true. People did talk. Katarina had also broken into a trade registry, but Seris didn’t need to know that.
Seris set her fork down.
"The terms are generous, Katarina."
[Whatever, I’ve already shown most of my power level.]
"Generous terms are how you build a cage, I read in a book. You line the bars with gold so the bird flies in on its own."
Brynn made a noise that was half laugh, half cough. Seris shot her a look.
"She’s got a point," Brynn said, hands up.
"She’s nine."
"She’s nine and she’s got a point," Brynn smirked.
Seris picked her wine up and took a long sip. There was a crease between her eyebrows that hadn’t been there before.
"I’ll look at it again," she said.
She didn’t say Katarina was right. She didn’t dismiss it, either, and that was all that mattered.
[Progress.]
Brynn hit the training post hard enough to crack it and then looked disappointed that it hadn’t exploded.
"Again! Left foot forward!"
Katarina shifted her weight and threw a punch. It connected with Brynn’s open palm and made a sound like a playing card hitting a table.
"Good form," Brynn said. "But you’re thinking too much."
"I’m placing my shots."
"You’re reading my shoulders to predict where I’m going to move my hands and then aiming for the gap. I can see you doing it."
[... Was I that obvious?]
"STOP THINKING ABOUT IT AND HIT ME!"
Katarina hit her. Harder this time, without the calculations, and her fist connected with Brynn’s palm with an actual sound. Brynn’s hand didn’t move, because Brynn’s hand was attached to Brynn and Brynn was built like a fortress, but her yellow eyes went wide.
"THERE! That’s what happens when you stop being clever and just commit!"
[I will never stop being clever. It’s one of my few redeeming qualities.]
They went another twenty minutes. Kicks, blocks, and basic grappling that mostly consisted of Katarina trying to escape Brynn’s grip. It was like wrestling a warm, encouraging boulder. Every time Katarina found a gap, Brynn closed it, and every time Brynn closed it, she said "good try!" like Katarina had done something impressive instead of failing completely.
By the end, Katarina’s arms were shaking and Brynn wasn’t even breathing hard.
They sat on the edge of the training yard and Brynn tossed her a water skin.
"You fight like a little general, you know that? Always looking for the angle. Reminds me of Giula, actually." Brynn took a drink. "Most of us on the frontier just hit things until the things stopped moving. Giula and Marga were the ones who thought first and hit second. You’d have fit right in with those two."
[I would not have fit in. I would have restructured your mercenary company’s billing practices and then gone home.]
"What kind of jobs did you take?"
"... The bad ones, the ones nobody else wanted." Brynn said it easily, like old news. "Caravan escort through bandit territory. Monster clearance. Once, we guarded a mining operation for three months while the company tried to figure out why their workers kept disappearing."
"Did you figure it out?"
"Yeah. The foreman was selling them to slavers across the border and pocketing the head count wages." Brynn’s grin dropped. "Marga broke his jaw. I broke other stuff."
[Okay, so there’s the line. Cross it and Brynn stops being friendly. Got it.]
"There was another job," Brynn said. "Client hired us for caravan protection. Rich guy, silks and spices, a whole wagon train heading through a mountain pass. Paid up front, which should’ve been our first clue, because nobody pays up front unless they don’t expect you to come back for the second half."
"What happened?"
"Bandits hit us on the second night. Except they knew exactly where we’d be, exactly how many of us there were, and exactly which wagon had the most valuable cargo. Because the client told them. He was planning to rob his own shipment, blame the bandits, and collect on the insurance. Can you believe that?"
"How’d you figure it out?"
"Marga noticed the bandits had the client’s route map. Same ink, same handwriting. She showed me and I went and had a physical conversation with the client."
[Naturally.]
"Point is," Brynn said, "people who offer you something for nothing are the ones you need protection from. If the deal looks too good, it’s because you’re the product, not the customer."
She said it offhand, like common sense. She didn’t connect it to Cabrian.
[But you just described his entire playbook, mother. Word for word.]
"What happened after that? With the caravan client’s people?"
"Oh, we had to lay low for a while. Marga and I hid out in a bathhouse for three days. And by lay low, I mean—"
She stopped.
Katarina looked at her with wide, innocent eyes.
[Ah, you fell into that trap again. Teasing, initiated!]
"You mean what, mother?"
Brynn’s red skin went a shade darker across her cheeks.
"I mean we... we were hiding. In the bathhouse. Because it was a good hiding spot."
"For three days?"
"It was a very thorough hiding strategy."
"What were you doing for three days in a bathhouse?"
"BATHING, Katarina. We were bathing. Extensively. Moving on!"
[Every single time.]
Katarina let the silence sit for a few seconds, then shifted gears.
"Mother, you know the Parenna family, right? And the Duccetti?"
"Sure. Not well, but I’ve met them at district gatherings. Why?"
"Could you ask them about the supply contract they signed with Cabrian? Just whether they’re happy with it. Whether the deal worked out the way they expected."
Brynn studied her for a moment. Katarina could tell she was chewing on it.
"Sure, dumpling. I can ask around." She paused. "This is about Cabrian’s contract, isn’t it?"
"Yes."
Brynn nodded. She didn’t ask why, or how Katarina knew to ask, or any of the dozen questions a normal parent would ask a nine-year-old who was investigating a merchant’s business dealings. She just accepted it, the way she accepted everything about Katarina, without needing to understand it first.
Brynn ruffled her hair.
"You’re something else, you know that?"
[You have no idea.]