Chapter 20 #2
Veru had been trained by a master negotiator.
Never ever do you go into a negotiation asking only for what you want.
No. You go in asking for the moon and the stars and the sun and the planets and then when items are removed, you act as if each thing is terribly painful.
In the end, the other person should believe they are getting a bargain when, in fact, you are giving only a fraction of what you were willing to part with, while they are giving away much, much more than they were ever wanting to give in the first place.
Also, never show your hand before they show theirs.
They lay down their cards first. Never commit to anything until you’re sure you’ve seen everything.
This one was wily. Veru would have to work at her best to beat her at her own game.
If only Yuga was a man, Veru could use her other considerable “talents” to distract her.
If she were doing this at home, it wouldn’t be Veru who was sent into this negotiation, but her mother, or Stacia.
They always did much better when it came to women.
But there wasn’t a choice. Veru would simply have to succeed. There wasn’t another option for them.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself and remember all the rules of engagement her parents had drilled her in.
She could almost hear her father’s voice.
“Just remember: If they are not willing to pay the price you desire, then you simply stop the transaction. At the end of the day, you should always be seen as the one having the most valuable commodities. Thus, more traders will want to strike bargains with you in the future.”
Unfortunately, Veru didn’t think this particular situation was one she could simply get up and walk away from.
If she could, she would have. She didn’t trust Yuga and would normally have tried to follow her instincts, but she didn’t see another way out of their situation.
Taking a breath, Veru, having found a pot of ink, a quill, and some paper, began cataloging a long, long list of what she wanted from Yuga, including everything she could think of, citing all the items she’d come across while staying, as well as things she hadn’t seen.
Obviously, she put down freedom for herself and Danik, but she also added changes of clothing for each of them, two weeks’ worth of food and supplies, money, transportation, information, a map, and even added the house, the stone pot Yuga seemed to love, and her cat, Maxsim.
It was when she thought to tack on the freedom of the knight, Zarya, and his brothers that she got into trouble.
“Aha!” the old woman said. “I knew you had help. That mischievous rascal Zarya must’ve been passing you victuals and wood through the window. I knew I should’ve bolted it down. Ah, well. Lessons learned.”
“You’re a miserable wretch. Has anyone ever told you as much?” Veru said bluntly.
Yuga laughed, and it was a dreadful sound. “Usually not when they want something as much as you do. In most cases, I deal with flattery.”
“I prefer honesty.”
“As do I. Though you aren’t terribly familiar with it, are you, my dear?”
Veru stiffened. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
The old woman snorted. “Come now. No need to pretend with me, Princess. I wrote the book on deceit. I may be practically blind and old, but I can see clear as day, and you, my beauty, are about the shiftiest little thing to ever have sat in that particular chair. In fact, the only way I can pin you down is to have Maxsim hold you in place, and that takes a powerful charm, believe you me.”
Narrowing her eyes, Veru bit her bottom lip.
It was one of her tells, and she typically had to force herself to avoid doing it, but she allowed it now since she knew the old woman couldn’t see her anyway.
Glancing down at the cat in her lap, she stopped petting him and purposely picked him up and set him down on the floor.
He meowed and rolled to his side and began licking his paw as if he didn’t care.
“How interesting,” Veru said demurely. “Do go on. I find what you said fascinating.”
It was one of her catchall lines that she’d memorized long ago when she didn’t know what else to say. She was sure it wouldn’t work with the old woman, but she figured it would at least buy her some time to come up with something else. Luckily for Veru, the woman chose to further explain.
“The boy was easy. Wasn’t much left there to find. Just a nudge here and a push there, and I was able to get all I needed from him. But you? You’re a much harder read. Shifty. Like I said.”
“Am I to assume by all this that you are implying you can read our minds?” Danik asked.
“There’s no implying about it, boy,” Yuga said. “Let’s call it one of my gifts.”
Danik pressed, “And what exactly are you seeking?”
“Not the secrets of the universe, if that’s what you’re worried about.
” Yuga snickered in a condescending tone, and Veru frowned.
She didn’t like how the woman was treating Danik.
It was as if he was too simpleminded for her to take notice of him.
From what Veru knew about the young man, he was anything but simple.
He was a man of deep feeling. Danik was sensitive.
He noticed things. Things that others didn’t.
Veru’s parents had taught her that intelligence shouldn’t be measured by certificates, degrees, power, money, or anything else most people put stock into, but that it should be weighed more by how a person observed and evaluated the items that impacted their worldview.
This meant that wisdom could be found just as much while seated at the feet of a humble sheep farmer as it could listening to a clergyman.
That answers might be sought at the table of a baker making rolls or at a table of diplomats.
She knew that there was a difference between intelligence and knowledge.
Natural gifts and talents could be something one was born with, but if a gift wasn’t developed, it could decline or never develop its potential.
On the other hand, a person with a mediocre ability could work hard and practice until they became a master craftsman.
Knowledge could be taught, but it didn’t come only from teachers and mentors.
She’d seen some develop great gifts on their own, simply by reading.
Others would take to the mountaintops, meditate, or commune with the skies until they achieved wisdom or enlightenment.
This, also, was knowledge that descended from above, dropping like dew from the heavens, to bestow truths upon the minds of those who diligently sought answers.
“If a person wanted to discover the secrets of the universe,” Veru said, “I would think someone capable of and willing to unlock the mind of a hunter who loves animals might just be worthy of such a treasure.”
Yuga pursed her lips, wrinkling them as she considered first Veru and then Danik. Then she shook her head and smiled craftily. “Ya get nothin’ for free, young miss. Told you flattery won’t work on me, pretty though the words may be.”
Veru folded her arms. “That wasn’t flattery. That was truth.”
“Bah. Let’s get on with it. Now I’ve heard your exhausting list. And in exchange, here’s mine.”
She started listing things on her knobby fingers, but Veru stopped her immediately by grabbing her hands. “Before you continue, you should know that the eternal servitude is the only thing we’re putting on the table. You demand anything else, and we’re done.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“What if I were to offer up something else? A prize you didn’t consider?” she tempted.
“Such as?” Veru asked.
The woman drummed her fingers on the table, considering.
“Tell you what—I’ll agree to your terms. In fact, I’ll give you everything you’ve asked for, including the aforementioned prize, if the two of you agree to complete not one but three more tasks before I return with the ingredients I need to finish this potion I’m making. ”
“Tell us the tasks, and we’ll decide if we agree.”
“Very well. Since you’ve been helped by my knights—and losing them would prove a huge loss to me—the tasks will be associated with them. If they are meant to be freed, then perhaps the tasks will not be so hard for you, eh?” Yuga began cackling, and it made the hairs stand up on Veru’s arms.
“The first task is to take this cup and dip it into the water where the white knight’s emblem rises each day.
Then fill my barrel here with the water.
The second is to shear all the sheep guarded by the red knight, then weave it into a bolt of cloth.
The third is to take this jar of white sesame seeds and this jar of black sesame seeds and give them to the black knight.
While he holds them, you will be allowed to gather the wheat he watches over.
“When this is complete, he will allow you to come collect the sesame seeds once more, which you will then return to me, along with the wheat. Once I have all these items in my possession—the water, the wheat and sesame seeds, and the cloth—your tasks are complete and you will have won your freedom, along with the prizes you have stipulated and the gift I have promised you.”
“And you’ll put all of this in writing?” Veru asked.
“I will.”
Veru turned the paper to the woman. But when she said she couldn’t write, as she couldn’t see well, she proceeded to dictate her words and had Veru copy them down for her, trusting that the tsarevna would complete it, as she put it forth after she ensured such by murmuring a truth incantation.
When Veru tested it by deliberately trying to write the wrong word, the ink kept drying up.
The cackle from Yuga every time that happened told her all she needed to know. There would be no tricking the woman.
When all the items were listed, and the tasks were marked down in order, Veru pored over it, searching for traps.
“And we can accomplish these tasks in any way we see fit?” Veru asked.
“You may. If you enlist the help of my knights, then so be it.” The woman smiled as she said the words, and a shiver went down Veru’s spine.
“So that’s it, then? We schlep water, shear sheep, and harvest grain.”
The woman held up a finger. “And return the sesame seeds. Don’t forget. I’ll need those for my recipe.”
“Right. Return the seeds, both white and black.” Veru turned to Danik. “What do you think?”
“I’ve sheared sheep a few times. Grain is pretty easy. How long will it take you to gather your remaining ingredients, Yuga?” he asked.
Veru was ashamed she hadn’t thought to ask that question herself.
“Oh, I’d imagine about the same length of time as the last. Maybe a bit longer. Will that do?”
“Depends on the size of the herd and the size of the field. Not to mention the amount of water we’re talking about.”
Yugas rheumy eyes twinkled. “Clever boy. Clever. Very well. The size of the herd—you can mark this down, girl—will be no more than two hundred animals. The barrel, you can see here, and the cup”—she picked up a wooden mug and slammed it down—“is right here. As for the water source, it’s larger than a typical stream, smaller than an ocean.
Now, for the size of the field . . . I’d say a team of oxen or horses could plow it in two days.
Is that sufficient enough information for you? ”
Danik nodded, then gestured to Veru. “Write it all down.”
She did. When she was finished, the old woman said, “Now don’t forget to add on what the two of you are giving up should you lose.”
Veru thought about lying, about changing the wording, but she knew Yuga’s spell would not permit it, so she wrote down the awful words:
If Verusha Irena Vasilia Stepanov and Danik Andronovich should fail to accomplish the three tasks set forth in this contract, then they agree to forfeit their freedom and remain servants to Babushka Yuga for the remainder of their natural lives or until such time as they are released, whichever comes first.
Then at the bottom of the document, Veru signed it with a flourish and slid it over to Danik, who also signed.
They spun it around to Babushka Yuga, who pretended to read it for a moment but then groped for the quill and sank it into the pot of ink before stabbing the paper with it and signing as well.
Verusha Irena Vasilia Stepanov
Danik Rodion Andronovich
Bony Shanks
“Very good,” she said, when she was finished.
“I suppose all that remains now is for me to leave so the two of you can get started. As I said, your cup is here.” Reaching into her bag, she took out two containers and shook them.
“Here’s one container of black and another of white sesame seeds, as promised.
When you’re visited by the knights, they can direct you to the field and so forth. ”
Picking up her huge stone bowl, she shuffled it through the doorframe.
To their surprise, she climbed into it, picked up the large spoon and her bag, gave a command, and the bowl rose into the air with her inside.
“I’d say good luck,” she shouted back at them, “but it won’t matter much.
Keep ’em alive, Max. I’ll have things for them to do when I get back. ”
With that, the door slammed shut behind her, and Danik and Veru were left alone again in the little hut.
“Danik?” Veru said.
“Yeah?”
“What have we done?”