sweeten the deal I’ll add two bolts of cloth for the hareem women.” He pointed to a dark blue and a dark brown.
Arton nodded. Though he wouldn’t feel the fourth cart he thought the stones would make his score high enough to win. If not there would be a tie. He stooped to gather the stones into the pouch keeping five white and all the colored stones for himself. He carried the remaining stones to his carts and buried them beneath his other purchases. He walked to the bonfire on the beach for a heated drink and to watch the trade for the cordial and the poison.
Mecador’s skill amazed Arton. He obtained everything on a huge list. When he finished he raised his hands. “Let the celebration begin.” He opened a bottle of spirits.
Before long that bottle and a number of others made the rounds. Arton only took a small swig. He intended to sleep beside his carts this night to guard his goods.
Huge fish sizzled on spits over the flames. Sailors, wizards and guards feasted. He noticed the resemblance between the traders and the wizards. Both had glacial gray eyes and hair so fair the strands appeared white. Were they far kin? Had they had a good or bad parting?
He finished all the fish he’d taken from the spit and moved to lean against one of his carts of goods and to watch wizards, guards, and traders wander drunkenly along the beach. Clouds covered the moon. Tomorrow they would return to the citadel. Then the search for Lorana would begin.
In the morning Arton drank three cups of the bitter brew to wash down fish and flatbread. He stretched and brushed off his clothes. The moans and groans of the others made him smile. He was glad he hadn’t indulged in the spirits as heavily as most of the others had.
He checked the contents of his carts. All remained,, including the large pouch of white fyrestones he grabbed the handle of the first cart and gestured to two of the guards. After using his wand to cure their headaches, they pulled the carts onto the road. He took the rear position. He wondered why they didn’t use the burden beasts either to pull the carts or to carry packs. A better way of transporting the goods than pulling the carts. Once or twice he used his wand to move the carts over obstacles where the road had been damaged. With stronger wands they wouldn’t have to work so hard.
By the time he and his goods reached the citadel the sun had set. The council and Hag Mother stood in the courtyard and rated the goods. Arton feared he was behind his rival in the value of his trades. When he added the fyrestones the council members gasped.
Mecador rose. “Once again Cregan and Arton are tied. Tomorrow there will be another test announced. You are dismissed.”
Arton rushed to his suite. The unfairness of the trading mission angered him. By allotting Cregan two of the women slaves, his rival had received as much value from his trades as Arton had. Though protests had lingered on his tongue, he had no recourse other than acceptance.
Would the next test be hunting for Lorana? If so, her caring for him after the poisoning gave him an edge. So did the taste of her lips he’d stolen.
* * *
Lorana watched the wizards return from trading with the slavers. Some broken branches provided a clear view of the citadel. She should have departed last night, but she’d been so tired she hadn’t been able to force herself from the tangle. And afraid. She had never been alone in a place she didn’t know. Tonight clouds hid the moon. She drew a deep breath. Fear of facing the unknown had to end. The dragon waited for her.
She organized all she’d taken from the storeroom. To make travel easier she had donned the trousers and tunic she’d taken from Arton’s room. She had a second set she’d found in the storeroom. She filled the travel pack and had items left.
Lorana tore her dress and used material from the skirt to make sacks to carry the things she would eat first. She cut several lengths and braided
Arton nodded. Though he wouldn’t feel the fourth cart he thought the stones would make his score high enough to win. If not there would be a tie. He stooped to gather the stones into the pouch keeping five white and all the colored stones for himself. He carried the remaining stones to his carts and buried them beneath his other purchases. He walked to the bonfire on the beach for a heated drink and to watch the trade for the cordial and the poison.
Mecador’s skill amazed Arton. He obtained everything on a huge list. When he finished he raised his hands. “Let the celebration begin.” He opened a bottle of spirits.
Before long that bottle and a number of others made the rounds. Arton only took a small swig. He intended to sleep beside his carts this night to guard his goods.
Huge fish sizzled on spits over the flames. Sailors, wizards and guards feasted. He noticed the resemblance between the traders and the wizards. Both had glacial gray eyes and hair so fair the strands appeared white. Were they far kin? Had they had a good or bad parting?
He finished all the fish he’d taken from the spit and moved to lean against one of his carts of goods and to watch wizards, guards, and traders wander drunkenly along the beach. Clouds covered the moon. Tomorrow they would return to the citadel. Then the search for Lorana would begin.
In the morning Arton drank three cups of the bitter brew to wash down fish and flatbread. He stretched and brushed off his clothes. The moans and groans of the others made him smile. He was glad he hadn’t indulged in the spirits as heavily as most of the others had.
He checked the contents of his carts. All remained,, including the large pouch of white fyrestones he grabbed the handle of the first cart and gestured to two of the guards. After using his wand to cure their headaches, they pulled the carts onto the road. He took the rear position. He wondered why they didn’t use the burden beasts either to pull the carts or to carry packs. A better way of transporting the goods than pulling the carts. Once or twice he used his wand to move the carts over obstacles where the road had been damaged. With stronger wands they wouldn’t have to work so hard.
By the time he and his goods reached the citadel the sun had set. The council and Hag Mother stood in the courtyard and rated the goods. Arton feared he was behind his rival in the value of his trades. When he added the fyrestones the council members gasped.
Mecador rose. “Once again Cregan and Arton are tied. Tomorrow there will be another test announced. You are dismissed.”
Arton rushed to his suite. The unfairness of the trading mission angered him. By allotting Cregan two of the women slaves, his rival had received as much value from his trades as Arton had. Though protests had lingered on his tongue, he had no recourse other than acceptance.
Would the next test be hunting for Lorana? If so, her caring for him after the poisoning gave him an edge. So did the taste of her lips he’d stolen.
* * *
Lorana watched the wizards return from trading with the slavers. Some broken branches provided a clear view of the citadel. She should have departed last night, but she’d been so tired she hadn’t been able to force herself from the tangle. And afraid. She had never been alone in a place she didn’t know. Tonight clouds hid the moon. She drew a deep breath. Fear of facing the unknown had to end. The dragon waited for her.
She organized all she’d taken from the storeroom. To make travel easier she had donned the trousers and tunic she’d taken from Arton’s room. She had a second set she’d found in the storeroom. She filled the travel pack and had items left.
Lorana tore her dress and used material from the skirt to make sacks to carry the things she would eat first. She cut several lengths and braided
Similar Books
