The pause became awkward. "Oh. And I suppose you'll be expecting some hospitality then?" She scrawled another note on a scrap of paper nearby and handed it to me. "Go to the house of Cún-Erball, tell them I sent you. The wives make dinner there for the village men tonight. I don't recommend the mutton pies." She made a sour face.

I touched my forelock. "Mistress."

"You take advantage of people."

"I sell services." We walked once more across the market square, past the shrine and away from the sage's tower. "Goods they can't get otherwise. Messages delivered along the way." I shrugged. "But alas, such services cost me money. It is the two-and-a-half gold trimmids to feed each ox each day. Seven trimmids a week. The longer I am upon the road, the more it costs. Not to mention the wagon maintenance. And the lost time at market for the sake of this detour leitils."

"It's a missing woman's life at stake, you know?"

I had to admit, the derring-do of rescuing a damsel in distress had a certain appeal. "My father, he always tells me, if you are good at the thing, never do it for free." I spread my hands before me. "Everything is worth something."

"What is a young woman's life worth?"

I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I found his naïveté irritating. "Out here? A hundred-and-forty-one ounces of Yoruach silver." He scowled at me, but I went on. "In the markets of Difelin? Ten ounces of silver. If she's kidnapped and no ransom is forthcoming, then that's what your bandits are up to, slaving. There is rumor of war gearing up in Sasana and in Aukriath. Slaves are in good demand at the ports of Sasana and Mendêvos."

"Don't patronize me. This is a freewoman of Droma we're talking about."

"If you want to deliver the message without getting paid, you can go without me. You and Corporal Corvac with his wounded shoulder, and the good luck go with you. But if you want me, my wagon, my drover, my oxen, and Jôkull along with you, there will be the cost."

"No one asked you." Adarc gave me a long hard look. "It's true, what I've heard about Aukrians. Cold-blooded as marsh lizards." He seemed disappointed. "If you'll excuse me, I have business with the constable."

"As do I." I flourished the letter of credit from the sage. "I was promised the hundred-and-fifty gold Sasanch corons to share among the crew, you and your man included. A delivery fee. And, triggwaba, it was not nearly worth it. Come on then. I need to get paid or Jôkull, he will kill me."

###

The timber roundhouse was a spartan affair. Though not as large as the king's hall, it was respectable and stout. Armed guards stood at the door. We identified ourselves and they ushered us in.

Like the sage's home, it had an appearance of hasty incompleteness, as if the residents were newly unpacked after being abroad. In the center of the house, smoke and firelight obscured the corners beneath the vaulted tree-timber post.

Across the fire, a broad wooden table was set up, behind which sat two men. They had cups and a round-chequered board game of some sort between them. One was broad, with a shock of startling blond hair.

The other, brown-haired and slight, called out and waved us forward. "I'm Turloch, the chamberlain. You'll be the Acolyte Adarc?"

"Aye, sirs. Greetings from Dúnsciath." Adarc bowed to the men.

"And you'll be the merchant? We had word from the gate you'd be coming."

"The same, sir. Apprentice-Haggler Corentin of House Pelan, at your service." I bowed, the appropriate degree I hoped.

He grimaced and stroked at his moustaches.

The chamberlain called for ôl, and a servant provided some in cups of silver, chased with golden curlicues of curvilinear beasts. The wine was watered and sour, but quenched the throat.

"Many thanks, sir."

"Enough of that." He waved me to silence. "The lord's constable, Dub the Raven." The blond man nodded to us.

"Acolyte, you have some news from Dúnsciath?"

Adarc withdrew a folded sheet of parchment with the king's seal on it. "Aye, the Lord-Drymyn sent me with this, a message for you alone, master constable."

Dub the Raven waved him forward. He took the missive from Adarc's hand and handed it to the chamberlain, who broke the seal and opened it.

"Well?" Dub took a drink from his cup.

Turloch squinted at the writing another moment. "It's a letter from the king and Lord Lórcan. Bandit raids this morning between here and Monóc Hill. The mines at Darachrith were robbed. You're ordered to raise the levies of Trígrianna and have them arranged here by dawn." He hummed over something insignificant, then continued. "Strengthen patrols along the Bánkern trail. And inform Woodsman Flaithroe to be on the lookout for a small party, arriving from the east. You'll know them by the King of Ivearda's token." He raised his eyebrows.

Dub wiped his mouth on his sleeve and burped. "The new king's trollop, no doubt."

"Mind your tongue." The chamberlain's eyes shifted toward us.

"Hmph," was all Dub had to say to that.

Adarc cleared his throat. "We should also tell you we met bandits on the trail. In the Gorge of Drægan and in broad daylight, sure and they were."

Dub nodded. "Yes, my men brought word of your captive. I'll see he gets what he deserves. Good work, bringing him in." He raised his cup to us.

I bowed to the constable. "If I may, sir?" He nodded. "They were looking for the prisoners, sir. They came at the rest of us with spears, forks, and arrows, sir, but they went for him with clubs. They meant for it to be a kidnapping."

He leaned forward. "Arrows or crossbow quarrels?"

Adarc spoke up. "Arrows, sir. Two of them had short bows. One of them put a shaft in Corvac's shoulder."

"My drover returned them shaft for shaft, put them both down."

"That's well enough." Nevertheless, Dub looked grim. "But kidnapping? For what purpose? To gain leverage over the Lord-Drymyn? To ransom him for food or weapons?"

Adarc went on. "There is also news of a missing young woman, sir, Mistress Aggiús of Tirimbaile." He looked down and away. "She's an apprentice to your new sage, but the sage has no knowledge of her whereabouts." He looked at me. "I'm afraid Master Corentin may be right, sirs. They may have been slavers."

Dub shook his head. "Grave news indeed. Thank you for your report, acolyte. Do you return to Dúnsciath straight-away?"

"I make there tomorrow, sir, by the Drochavaile trail with a stop at Avainnglyn."

"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?"

—33—

How can Corentin be so callous about the fate of Aggiús? Who is expected to arrive from Ivearda? Will Corentin accompany Adarc in search of the missing maiden?

Tune in next time for the FINAL EPISODE of this Continuing Tale in the Matter of Manred: A Merchant's Tale.