Chapter 16 #2
Lorian raised his eyebrows so they disappeared under his hat brim. ‘Oh well, let’s not be hasty. Here, have a wee look at my wares first. Perhaps we can trade rather than get dirty old coins involved.’
He flicked a hook on the side of his cart and the blind it was holding in place clattered up.
Beneath it was a compartment lined with many shelves, and all the shelves were packed with things: wooden whistles, jars of silver buttons, a stuffed crow, paintbrushes, clay pots with faces painted on them, a brass trumpet, various figurines of the gods, a velvet swatch pierced all over with copper needles, rolls of blue and yellow silk, and a crystal ball.
‘We’re just looking to sell the bow and be on our way,’ said Elver.
‘I see this one drives a hard bargain,’ said Lorian. ‘Let’s have a look at it, then, this mysterious and mighty bow.’
Artair unslung the weapon from his back and passed it to Lorian, who turned it over and over in his clever fingers. He was nodding.
‘Fine, very fine. The Golden Tower of the Perpetual Morning. Interesting. And where did you get a thing like this?’ The trader’s expression was still friendly, but there was a new edge to his glance when he looked at Artair.
‘Those monks aren’t exactly known for being open or friendly, and who can blame them, given what they guard? ’
Artair felt his skin prickle with heat. He opened his mouth to reply, but Elver spoke over him.
‘We found it. How much coin will you give us?’
‘Straight down to business. Fair enough, fair enough.’ He turned it over once more, then nodded. ‘I will give you five gold coins and thirty silver. Will that do you?’
‘Sold,’ said Elver. ‘Hand it over.’
‘Ten gold coins,’ said Artair. He was thinking of the gold and silver he’d taken from the Abbot’s room and how he had poured it out onto the sawdusted floorboards to buy back the cub. ‘And thirty silver.’
‘Oh ho! I do like a bit of sweet back and forth under a sunny sky.’ The trader grinned. ‘Six gold and forty silver.’
‘We don’t have time for this,’ said Elver.
‘Eight gold, fifty silver.’
‘Six gold, forty silver, and this fine necklace for your lady.’ Lorian plucked a narrow chain from his wares—it had a blue stone pendant hanging from it carved into the shape of a crescent moon. ‘It carries a blessing from my lady. Which is no small thing.’
‘You can keep your trinkets,’ said Elver sharply, and Artair felt an odd pang of disappointment. It might have been nice to give her a gift. ‘We just need the coin.’
‘Seven gold,’ said Artair. ‘Sixty silver. That’s as low as I’ll go. It’s a very fine bow. I reckon you won’t see another like it on this road, or any other.’
Lorian nodded ruefully. ‘Alright, my good sir, I think you have me there. Seven gold and sixty it is.’
Artair smiled. Back in his previous life, the one he didn’t like to think about too closely, he had often watched his parents haggle on market days, and sometimes he would be allowed to throw in his own suggestions.
Being able to touch those old days, even in a small way, brought him both pleasure and a sense of dread.
Lorian passed the bow back to Artair, and then opened a small compartment on the cart with a key around his neck. There were coins in there, which he quickly counted out onto his hand, then filled a small canvas bag with them. He tossed the bag to Elver, who snatched it out of the air easily.
‘I have a poem,’ said Artair. The words were out of his mouth before he even knew he was going to speak them. ‘I’ll give it to you if the Lady Dusk will tell me my future.’ Out of the corner of his eye he could see Elver glaring at him, but Lorian looked delighted.
‘This is more like it!’ Lorian beamed at him. ‘It’s a deal, my young handsome friend.’
Artair closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember. All those years he had been reciting lines of poems to Brother Benzin through his cell door. There had to be loads that the Lady Dusk hadn’t heard before.
‘Fallen is the star,’ he said. ‘The sky grows darker at night. Our mistress moon smiles on.’
‘Ah!’ Lorian straightened up as though moved by some unseen hand.
‘She does not know that one.’ He smiled widely and his eyes filled with a shimmering mauve light.
He raised his left hand and traced on his palm was a strange symbol a little like a star.
‘Listen carefully: I see… I see…’ The trader’s smile faltered.
‘I see a future fractured, a destiny tugged in two directions. I see blood in the water, and poison both expected and unexpected. A terrible bargain, and one heart replaced with another.’
‘You see what I mean?’ said Elver. ‘Typical magpie. Promises all sorts but gives you gibberish.’
Artair thanked Lorian regardless and they took their leave, feeling a little lighter for the lack of the bow but more certain where their next meal was coming from.
As they made their way down the road, Artair turned back once to see the trader standing with his cart, watching them leave with a troubled expression on his previously cheery face.