Fortune and Misfortune #2
He bristled. “Position? You’re to be wife and mother, nothing more.” Clare placed her hand on his arm to calm him.
“Those are very important jobs,” the girl said. “Women can do many things men cannot do on their own, such as bear children, but I bring even more to this union.”
“The terms have already been agreed upon by your grandfather,” he snapped. “If your father has objections, he can try to renegotiate.”
“But you’ll already have what you want: me married to your son.”
“We aren’t barbarians,” he muttered.
She raised an eyebrow at him, but it was too brief for him to tease out what she was thinking. She returned her attention to the document, edging closer to the light and squinting at the fancy script.
“Oh, my,” she said. “First Edwin, and then Vernas upon Edwin’s death, will oversee my part of Clan G’ladheon merchanting ventures, including land caravans, shipping, and so on.”
“Business needs a man’s head,” Vernas declared, “because it’s a man’s game.”
“Does it now,” she said softly, and Edwin detected a slight mocking tone. He frowned again.
“Aye,” Vernas said. He folded his arms across his chest and jutted out his chin. “It does. Better you understand that right from the start, wife .”
The men muttered in agreement around him.
“I must admit,” she said, “it would be a relief to have someone take over what is left of the Clan G’ladheon merchanting venture.”
“What is left?” Edwin asked.
“Why, yes. Had you not heard? We are on the brink of insolvency. You know what the word means, right? Insolvency?”
“What? What are you saying?”
She gazed keenly at him with her one eye, a cold smile on her face. “Are you prepared to take on a bit of debt?” She paused. “Actually, quite a bit...”
“What? I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to put us off.”
Her features sagged with such profound despondence he was taken aback.
“I wish that was true,” she said.
“But—”
“What do you think I was doing at the guild house today?” she asked.
“I dunno.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I was attempting to preserve the merchant clan my father worked so hard to build, and that is no lie.”
“Did you?” Clare asked. “Did you succeed?”
“It is not looking good,” the girl replied. “Not with all the debt.”
Edwin quaked. She was not lying. He could feel it in his bones. “How much?” When she told him, he felt as if he were falling into a deep chasm.
“I forgot the fee to the merchants guild,” she said, “which is essential if you truly wish to conduct business in Sacoridia. Keep in mind that each province and the larger cities all demand fees.”
When she told him the fee for just Sacor City, he was overcome by a wave of panic. He noted her watching him with that one eye as she gauged his response.
“How could this have happened?” Clare asked. “Your clan is the richest, the—”
“There are other merchant clans that do as well or better,” the girl replied.
“When one is in the business long enough, one learns that fortunes can be made and lost. He, or she , who makes more than they lose is the better merchant. Alas, sometimes even the best meets with misfortune.” Then she explained how her father had emptied the warehouses and taken everything to Varos, and how a crooked accountant had stolen the clan’s remaining funds.
“If your father is trading with the Varosians,” Edwin said, trying to work it all out, “he should be returning with even greater wealth.”
“There are never guarantees. One hopes for such an outcome, but trading can go poorly, ships can sink. Regardless, the clan currently owes more than it can pay, has little or no merchandise to sell, and is facing severe punishments if agreements are not honored now. However, I am sure the success of the Turval fishing family will be able to prop up Clan G’ladheon’s merchanting venture.
Shall we have the priest come over and perform the ceremony?
Then perhaps you could share some food. I have not had anything to eat since morning and I am starving. ”
“Hold on,” Edwin said, gesturing for the priest to keep his distance. “Maybe, heh, I am expecting too much of this union.”
“You now wish to renege on the agreement with my grandfather?” she demanded.
“All that debt,” he said. “Maybe we can, um, defer until later when, um...”
“When the G’ladheon merchanting venture is on sound footing once again?”
“I’m just saying, that’s not a dowry. It’s financial ruin.”
“If you are not willing to take on the debt, then I guess the wedding is off. I am sorry, dear Vernas, that our first night of wedded bliss will not be consummated.” She dropped the document into the fire.
“Wait!” Edwin cried. He tried grabbing after the paper but only burned his hands. He howled in pain.
“You—you!” he yelled at her. He wanted to say the worst, but it was all bottled up inside by the pain of his burned hands and the shock of his plans gone awry.
“Oh, dear,” she said, “you’ve changed your mind?”
She mocked him, played games. She had burned his document. “You have ruined everything!”
“You should be thanking me for saving you from all that debt.”
“You!” He leaped at her, desiring nothing more than to slap and shake her as she deserved for all that had gone wrong, but the next thing he knew, he was on the ground staring into the starry sky. How had she . . . ?
Somehow the girl had gotten hold of the priest’s staff, and now she turned it on his men.
She swept the staff round. It rose and fell so fast that it was hard to follow.
The girl’s skirts flared and whirled around her, and her shoes flew off her feet as she moved in a tempestuous dance.
In mere seconds, it was over. His men lay limp on the ground and groaned.
One of them was unconscious. Only Vernas still stood in a defensive crouch.
He took a tentative step forward as if to take her on.
“Wanna try me?” she goaded.
Vernas licked his lips and backed off.
Edwin pushed himself onto his elbows. “Whore!” he yelled. “I’ll teach you—” But a deep, unnatural chill settled into his bones. The fire died back and the night thickened. Dread flooded through him, a formless, unknown terror.
“Edwin,” Clare whispered. She knelt beside him and clutched his sleeve.
A shape darker than the night stood on the edge of the woods behind the girl. It hissed and Edwin’s blood froze in his veins. Cold sweat trickled down his face.
Nearby, the priest fell to his knees and made the sign of the crescent moon. He started to pray fervently.
“What the hells?” But Edwin’s quavering voice seemed lost in the depths of an abyss.
A horror stepped out of the woods, its undead countenance defined by a shadow, a twisted iron crown upon its brow. Rags wafted about its form in no natural breeze.
“Galadheon.” The name wheezed out of its maw. “We seek the Galadheon.”
Edwin wanted to scream. He thought Clare and Vernas did. But the girl...The girl turned to face the horror and calmly said, “You seek the Galadheon, and you have found her.”