The Warded Man
Page 7

After lunch, Rusco and Ragen went over to the bar and opened up the other items the Messenger had brought. Arlen’s eyes flared as each treasure was presented. There were bolts of cloth finer than anything he had ever seen; metal tools and pins, ceramics, and exotic spices. There were even a few cups made of bright, sparkling glass.
Hog seemed less impressed. “Graig had a better haul last year,” he said. “I’ll give you … a hundred credits for the lot.” Arlen’s jaw dropped. A hundred credits! Ragen could own half the Brook for that.
Ragen didn’t care for the offer, though. His eyes went hard again, and he slammed his hand down on the table. Dasy and Catrin looked up from their cleaning at the sound.
“To the Core with your credit!” he growled. “I’m not one of your bumpkins, and unless you want the guild to know you for a cheat, you’ll not mistake me for one again.”
“No hard feelings!” Rusco laughed, patting the air in that placating way he had. “Had to try … you understand. They still like gold up there in Miln?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Same as everywhere,” Ragen said. He was still frowning, but the anger had drained from his voice.
“Not out here,” Rusco said. He went back behind the curtain, and they could hear him rummaging around, raising his voice to still be heard. “Out here, if you can’t eat something, or wear it, paint a ward with it, or use it to till your field, it’s not worth much of anything.” He returned a moment later with a large cloth sack he deposited on the counter with a clink.
“People here have forgotten that gold moves the world,” he went on, reaching into the bag and pulling out two heavy yellow coins, which he waved in Ragen’s face. “The miller’s kids were using these as game pieces! Game pieces! I told them I’d trade the gold for a carved wood game set I had in the back; they thought I was doing them a favor! Ferd even came by the next day to thank me!” He laughed a deep belly laugh. Arlen felt like he should be offended by that laugh, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He had played the Millers’ game many times, and it seemed worth more than two metal disks, however shiny they might be.
“I brought a lot more than two suns’ worth,” Ragen said, nodding at the coins and then looking toward the bag.
Rusco smiled. “Not to worry,” he said, untying the bag fully. As the cloth flattened on the counter, more bright coins spilled out, along with chains and rings and ropes of glittering stones. It was all very pretty, Arlen supposed, but he was surprised at how Ragen’s eyes bulged and took on a covetous glitter.
Again they haggled, Ragen holding the stones up to the light and biting the coins, while Rusco fingered the cloth and tasted the spices. It was a blur to Arlen, whose head was spinning from the ale. Mug after mug came to the men from Catrin at the bar, but they showed no signs of being as affected as Arlen.
“Two hundred and twenty gold suns, two silver moons, the rope chain, and the three silver rings,” Rusco said at last. “And not a copper light more.”
“No wonder you work out in a backwater,” Ragen said. “They must have run you out of the city for a cheat.”
“Insults won’t make you any richer,” Hog said, confident he had the upper hand.
“No riches for me this time,” Ragen said. “After my traveling costs, every last light will go to Graig’s widow.”
“Ah, Jenya,” Rusco said wistfully. “She used to pen for some of those in Miln with no letters, my idiot nephew among them. What will become of her?”
Ragen shook his head. “The guild paid no death-price to her, because Graig died at home,” he said. “And since she isn’t a Mother, a lot of jobs will be denied her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rusco said.
“Graig left her some money,” Ragen said, “though he never had much, and the guild will still pay her to pen. With the money from this trip, she should have enough to get by for a time. She’s young, though, and it will run out eventually unless she remarries or finds better work.”
“And then?” Rusco asked.
Ragen shrugged. “It’ll be hard for her to find a new husband, having already married and failed to bear children, but she won’t become a Beggar. My guild brothers and I have sworn that. One of us will take her in as a Servant before that happens.”
Rusco shook his head. “Still, to fall from Merchant class to Servant …” He reached into the much lighter bag and produced a ring with a clear, sparkling stone set into it. “See that she gets this,” he said, holding the ring out.
As Ragen reached for it, though, Rusco pulled it back suddenly. “I’ll have a message back from her, you understand,” he said. “I know how she shapes her letters.” Ragen looked at him a moment, and he quickly added, “No insult meant.”
Ragen smiled. “Your generosity outweighs your insult,” he said, taking the ring. “This will keep her belly full for months.”
“Yes, well,” Rusco said gruffly, scooping up the remains of the bag, “don’t let any of the townies hear, or I’ll lose my reputation as a cheat.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Ragen said with a laugh.
“You could earn her a bit more, perhaps,” Rusco said.
“Oh?”
“The letters we have were meant to go to Miln six months ago. You stick around a few days while we pen and collect more, and maybe help pen a few, and I’ll compensate you. No more gold,” he clarified, “but surely Jenya could do with a cask of rice, or some cured fish or meal.”
“Indeed she could,” Ragen said.
“I can find work for your Jongleur, too,” Rusco added. “He’ll see more custom here in the Square than by hopping from farm to farm.”
“Agreed,” Ragen said. “Keerin will need gold, though.”
Rusco gave him a wry look, and Ragen laughed. “Had to try … you understand!” he said. “Silver, then.”
Rusco nodded. “I’ll charge a moon for every performance, and for every moon, I’ll keep one star and he the other three.”
“I thought you said the townies had no money,” Ragen noted.
“Most don’t,” Rusco said. “I’ll sell the moons to them … say at the cost of five credits.”
“So Rusco Hog skims from both sides of the deal?” Ragen asked.
Hog smiled.
Arlen was excited during the ride back. Old Hog had promised to let him see the Jongleur for free if he spread the word that Keerin would be entertaining in the Square at high sun the next day for five credits or a silver Milnese moon. He wouldn’t have much time; his parents would be readying to leave just as he and Ragen returned, but he was sure he could spread the word before they pulled him onto the cart.
“Tell me about the Free Cities,” Arlen begged as they rode. “How many have you seen?”
“Five,” Ragen said, “Miln, Angiers, Lakton, Rizon, and Krasia. There may be others beyond the mountains or the desert, but none that I know have seen them.”
“What are they like?” Arlen asked.
“Fort Angiers, the forest stronghold, lies south of Miln, across the Dividing River,” Ragen said. “Angiers supplies wood for the other cities. Farther south lies the great lake, and on its surface stands Lakton.”