"We will send you with word for the chief of Mynnynrainsh in the morning, if you don't mind. He's along your way." He waved dismissal. "See us before you leave."

"If I may, sir?"

"What more, Master Corentin?"

We were ushered from the chieftain's hall. I had my sack of golden trimmids to share with the crew, nearly two hundred of them. Corons were worth more than the local currency, and I hadn't let the chamberlain forget it.

The drover had found mews for the oxen in the cattle enclosure upslope. He, Jôkull, and Corvac meandered through the market, having a look at the wares as craftsmen brought them in for the night.

I collected them and someone pointed out the house of Cú-Erball, where cowherds and farmers were gathering. We gave our scrawled note from the sage to the mistress of the house and settled down at a table outside near a small clay oven. The evening air was not yet too chill, and the heat of the oven was welcome. We watched a patrol of soldiers make its way through the village. They helped craftsmen lock up their shops for the night, and poked into dark corners between the houses.

The village was shut in for the night.

I bought pints for us all, even for Jôkull, Corvac, and even the drover, and shared out the delivery fee, thirty-eight gold trimmids each. Even, at Adarc's insistence, to the drover. The girl was gone now, so I was spared his ethic to share our good fortune with her as well.

A thought occurred to me. "My word. How is it, the— how you say, the amsa?"

Adarc furrowed his brow. "The shoulder?"

"Ja, the shoulder, how is it?"

"Oh, it's fine." Corvac rubbed at the linen bandages beneath his tunic. "The lord's chirurgeon, she stitched me up. She said the wound was clean—," he nodded to Adarc, "and I'll have a handsome scar and a good yarn for it." He waved it away with a negligent hand.

"Good," I said. "I'm glad to hear that. You fought bravely today." I slapped Yôkull on the shoulder. "You both did. Bádhir zhinn, ja?" The silent mercenary nodded and tilted his ôl back. "Against those migrants at Gormlyn. And in the face of the bear! Stout fellows! Digr bokkî, ja?"

I yet had business to do there. There was a weapon-smith and a jeweler I was told, and other tradesmen beside who might barter for my pickled beef.

But there was time enough for all that. I yawned, stretched, and leaned back in my chair as the sun set over the hills.

I had learned much on that journey. The winter had been hard on those people. Surpluses that had been anticipated to last through the spring had fallen short. Food was worth its weight if it could be imported. I thought of the several wagons of grains, vegetables, salted fish and meat in our caravan back at Dúnsciath. It would fetch a good price here.

Labor was cheap, and there were gangs of dispossessed men roaming the countryside in search of work. Many of these men were from the north, where my father intended we should travel this summer, up into the mountains and across into Naricia.

We might be able to find cheaper drovers and porters here rather than take those Gallavachs hired in Difelin and Uisneach on with us.

More than half the settlements in the kingdom had been raided by bandits, and it seemed now they might have turned to slaving as well as robbery. That might allow us to raise prices, I thought. 'Added cost of security, don't you know.' But our merchants would be endangered as they sought custom for their wares.

There's much discontent here, I thought. And the superstitions of old times were strong with those people.

My head grew delightfully mazed with the local stout. That land was hard and unforgiving. I'd never seen a bear so big, nor hunting hounds to rival those monstrous shynn-dogs.

I raised my pint. "Here's to all of you. A profitable journey for all of us thus far."

Adarc raised his pint. "Gastas na hæltha, myndgath."

Corvac raised his jack as well. "Hæltha," he said, and the drover echoed him.

"Terveys," agreed Jôkull in his own Skadthinôran tongue.

"Háili." I put my cup together with theirs.

We toasted one another's health in three different tongues. I leaned back in my chair and drank, marveling for a moment in the sunset. There I was, in that obscure little place, at that remote time, with those five very different men. I'd made a profit on the lumber, and would make more on the pickled beef. The older merchants would have a new respect for me. My father would be proud.

The sun set. It had been a good day.

—Here Ends—

A Merchant's Tale: The Second Tale in the Matter of Manred

The Matter of Manred is a modern day re-imagining of these medieval-style romances, fantastic stories about marvel-filled adventures.

The Matter of Manred began with Hedge King in Winter, now a Wattpad Featured Story.

The Matter of Manred continued in The Epistles of Eithne & Eowain, a series of missives between distant lovers facing an arranged marriage. A Wattpad exclusive, available nowhere else, watch the relationship between Lady Eithne and Hedge King Eowain blossom and develop, even as all else seems to be coming apart around them.

The Matter of Manred continues in A Merchant's Tale, available in serialized format here on Wattpad for a limited time, and coming soon to Amazon for Kindle and in Print.

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