A Cast of Stones (26 page)

“Now, Errol, I think you understand the ideas of trade fairly well. When we get into the city, I'm going to take you with me as one of my bodyguards. It's expected, since we'll be carrying a substantial amount of money once we sell our skins. As part of
my protection you'll meet the representatives of the five houses that control the business interests in Dronfeld. Later you'll help me choose which house to sell to.”

The accusation in Errol's head refused to go away. He sighed. “What is it you want me to do?”

Ru chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I want you to attend me and commit the representative of each house to memory. I'll tell each one we need to consider their offer. Then you'll cast lots and tell me which one will give me the highest price for my cargo.”

Errol frowned. Ru had earlier said the price of a cargo would vary little from house to house, often only by a few pennies per skin. He mentioned this to the caravan master.

“Very good, my boy. You have been paying attention. But consider this—a few pennies per skin on every trip will compound over time. With enough transactions, I'll be one of the richest caravans inside of a year.”

“From just a few pennies?” Errol asked.

Ru nodded. “I think we need to include a study of quantities in your education, Errol. You'd be amazed at what a few pennies per skin compounded over time will do.”

Ru brought his caravan to a halt at the staging point east of the city—the only spot within a league that resembled level ground—and with Rokha and Errol in tow, went forth to do battle. The merchant quarters and their attached warehouses stood like monoliths on the river, blocky and intimidating. Each was run by a mix of outlanders and natives. Ru smiled and his eyes glittered as they dismounted their horses in front of the warehouse belonging to the Stelton enterprise.

As they entered the stone edifice, Ru schooled his features to solemnity and leaned over to whisper his instructions. “Pay close attention, Errol. When I meet with their factor, you and Rokha will be responsible for committing every detail to memory.” He moved closer until Errol could see the master's excited pulse in his neck. Ru's voice became stern. “Above all, say nothing.”

Ru turned and led the way into the offices of his first opponent. Before Errol's eyes could adjust to the change in light, a thin man not much older than Errol presented himself to Ru with a slight bow.

“Greetings, caravan master. My name is Ambra. How may I assist you?”

Ru gave a polite smile and turned to survey the rich ornamentations that decorated the office. He bowed in turn, deeper than Ambra. “My name is Naaman Ru. I've just come from Longhollow loaded with skins. I'm looking for the best price so that I can purchase some of your fabled grain for the next leg of my route.”

“Skins?” Ambra asked. His face twisted as though Ru had somehow earned his sympathy. “I will tell the factor you are here.” He turned and left, his face locked in that same expression.

Ru shifted until only Rokha and Errol could see his face. His expression never changed but he chortled under his breath. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Oh, it's going to be a good day.”

Errol inhaled to ask him any of a dozen questions that sprang to mind, but before he could open his mouth a large pot-bellied man with the florid coloring and the harsh accent of an Einlander approached them. “Greetings.” His voice boomed and echoed from the white stone interior. “I am Kedar Willam, the factor for Stelton House. How may I serve you?”

Ru bowed again, even more deeply this time, and spread his hands. “I have skins to sell, worthy Kedar, of the finest quality.”

“Ah,” Kedar said. “So my assistant, Ambra, told me. I had hoped he was mistaken. Such a cargo is usually in great demand in the northern provinces.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But the winter this past year was milder than expected. The market is somewhat depressed, I'm afraid.”

Errol blinked.
Milder?
He'd heard the merchants in Callowford say spring had been late in coming to the north—very late. He inhaled. Ru needed to know Kedar was either misinformed or trying to cheat him.

A weight on his foot turned his words into a gasp of pain. When Ru and the factor looked in his direction, Rokha slapped him across the face.

“I told you never to touch me again,” she said. “Don't think you can get away with it just because there are others about.”

Errol's face flushed. Kedar's roar of laughter filled the space until its echoes sounded as though a chorus of factors laughed at Errol's embarrassment.

Stelton's factor wiped tears from his eyes as he turned back to Ru. “Worthy master, I can see you have enough trouble without trying to negotiate a price for skins that won't sell. To help you out I will pay you last year's price for your cargo.”

Ru donned a look of gratitude. “That is most kind, Kedar. I will take your offer under consideration.” He gave Rokha and Errol a look made of daggers. “Right now I must return to my caravan. I'm afraid my choice in personnel this morning was misguided. I require a change of guards.”

A brief spasm of desperation crossed Kedar's face. “I would hate for you to make a second trip, worthy master. Why not conclude our business before you attend to your guards.”

The caravan master nodded. “You are most gracious, Kedar, but I'm afraid I have no choice in the matter.” He stepped closer to the factor, and his voice dropped. “The girl is my daughter. Much as it pains me to put family before business, it must be done. She keeps the ledger.”

Defeat wreathed itself across Kedar's features, and he bowed. “As you say. My offer will stand. Please allow Stelton House the honor of serving you tomorrow.”

Ru nodded and then led them back into the daylight. Once their horses were well away from the enormous warehouse and its offices, he cackled with delight. “Oh, my daughter, that was very well done. In one stroke you gave me the perfect exit from Stelton House.

“And you,” he said to Errol, “need to listen carefully to instruction.”

“But Kedar's trying to cheat you,” Errol said. “Spring came late to the north this last winter.”

Ru nodded. “Yes, I know. I'd heard a rumor of such back in Longhollow—which is why I bought skins.”

Errol shook his head, confused. “You don't care that Kedar is trying to cheat you?”

“Care? Of course I care,” Ru said. “I did everything in my power to encourage it.” He laughed at Errol's confusion. “Ah, my boy, you have so much to learn. The easiest way to get the best price out of someone is to let them think they can take advantage of you. Take two men, pit their greed and desire to win against one another, and you'll see them pay more for an object than it's worth simply because they can't stand the thought of losing.”

Ru leaned across his saddle to give Rokha a hug. “That was brilliant. In fact, I think we should use that at each of the houses. By the time I return tomorrow, the five of them will be ready to kill each other to buy our cargo.”

He turned to Errol. “Do you think you can repeat your performance, Errol?”

He nodded, but inside he was still trying to make sense of Ru's strategy.

“It's got to be natural,” Ru said. “If the factor suspects that he's being tricked, he won't bid on the skins. No man takes kindly to being manipulated.”

“I'll try.”

Ru nodded. Though he'd seemed happy before, now he seemed positively giddy.

They arrived at the next warehouse on the river. Its walls were constructed of stone as well, but where Stelton House gleamed a bright white, the walls of Harrida House were a light gray.

They dismounted, and Errol repeated every motion and gesture down to the intake of breath and the gasp. He found his part easy to play. Rokha seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in stomping his foot. He considered standing on her other side to keep her from breaking his toes.

After Harrida House, they visited the warehouses belonging to Weir, Davila, and Corloni. Each house repeated some variation of Stelton's excuse as to why they could not give Ru the price his goods deserved, and each factor suffered the dismay of losing a merchant with much-needed cargo.

Naaman clapped Errol on the shoulder as they rode back east of the city to the staging ground. “Perfection, my boy, absolute perfection. It appeared you were in genuine pain every time.”

Errol shot Rokha a hard look. “I was.”

“Really?” Ru said with a lift of eyebrows. Then he smiled. “Well done, daughter. I'm glad you left nothing to chance. Now, here's how we're going to make the houses of Dronfeld pay. I want you to craft lots, my boy, that will tell us who is going to give us the best price for our cargo and—” he laughed, rubbing his hands together—“who is going to give us the second-best price.”

Rokha tossed her dark hair with glee.

“I don't understand. Why do you want to know which house will give you the second-best price?” Errol asked.

Ru snickered. “I think it's only fair to let them have first shot at selling us the cargo for the outbound trip. They'll cut the price so deep after losing out on our skins, none of the other houses will come close.”

Back at camp, Errol sat cross-legged in a secluded spot with a dozen blocks of pine and Norad's carving knife nestled in his lap. He cleared his mind and pictured the factor at Stelton House. Kedar's florid face rose in his mind's eye along with his expression of desperate greed. Errol let every detail of the man and his business wash over him. It didn't take long. His habit of cataloging faces in his search for his parents proved useful. He opened his eyes and drew the small knife toward him, watching as a fine curl dropped to his lap.

Two hours later ten wooden balls and a pile of fragrant pine shavings rested where the blocks of wood had lain. He smiled in satisfaction. A couple of weeks ago it would have taken him more than twice as long to carve that many. Luis was still faster
by far, and Errol didn't have a clue how to work in stone, but the carving knife felt like a part of him now.

Ru's enthusiasm burned as bright as ever when Errol told him the lots were ready for drawing. The caravan master summoned his daughter, and the three of them crowded into the wagon that the caravan master used for traveling quarters. Rokha took the first five lots and mixed them together. Somewhere in the camp or during their visit to the city, she'd managed to procure a proper cloth bag. The royal blue matched her vest. Errol thought it set off her dark eyes and hair to good advantage. As she shook the bag, she glanced in his direction and, seeing him eyeing her, tilted her head back and smiled with a hint of challenge.

Ru turned away and thrust his hand into the bag. “Let's see who we'll be doing business with tomorrow.” The sphere he withdrew looked no different than the rest. “Well, my boy, who's it to be?”

Errol took the lot and held it up to the light of the lantern, turning it until the name came into view. “Stelton House.”

“I thought as much,” Ru said, nodding. “Kedar looked almost desperate when we left. Stelton House probably has a contract for skins they need to fill.” His grin became vicious. “I'm sure we can help them on that account.”

Ru replaced the lot and drew another dozen times just to make sure. Stelton House came out all but twice. The next set of lots went into the bag. Rokha drew this time. Davila House would offer the second-best price.

Ru beamed at him. “My boy, if everything works out tomorrow the way I think it will, you've earned yourself a bonus. Now, if you'll excuse us, Rokha and I have plans to make.”

As he left Ru's wagon, he saw the caravan master unrolling a map that showed the region around Erinon.

Not knowing what else to do, he visited Grub for an early supper and then went in search of Jhade. It had been days since they'd sparred. She still had moves he didn't completely understand, and Rale's admonition to continuously work the forms was always in the back of his mind.

But the real reason he wanted to spar lay elsewhere. The lots he'd cast for Ru troubled him. Giving the caravan master an unseen advantage in negotiating a price was wrong, but there was also the attack on the caravan to consider. The fault for that almost certainly lay with Errol in some way. In a sense, Errol was just trying to pay Ru back for his trouble. In that light his efforts to help Naaman Ru made perfect sense, but his logic failed to comfort him. Could he really make up for the attack by helping Ru cheat others? He doubted it.

There would surely be a price to pay.

The sparring session with Jhade lasted nearly an hour, and Errol felt a sense of accomplishment at its conclusion. The woman managed to touch him only twice, while Errol landed a dozen hits during their contest. At the end, she'd bowed, acknowledging her defeat.

Still troubled, he fastened the knobblocks onto the end of his staff. He worked the forms, losing himself in the rhythm of the dance. The weights on the end of his staff barely slowed him now. Rale had been right. Time and food served to correct the five years he'd spent drinking. Though he would never be a giant, he no longer had to look up at every man in the camp, and even if his arms didn't become as large as Cruk's or Liam's, they were still strong enough to move his staff until it blurred. He wiped the sweat from his face and pushed himself to move even faster.

One day, he vowed, he would be quick enough to knock the lightning from the sky.

 19 
A Change of Plans

A
T NOON
the next day, Ru rode back into camp looking as if he'd been named heir to a fortune. The guards mustered for their pay. Errol, as the thirteenth—a promotion resulting from the deaths of Norad and Jesper—took his place at the end of the queue. As he neared the table Ru set up, he noticed each man received his wages with a look of surprise. When his turn came to collect his pay, Ru surprised him by dropping a gold crown to go with the four silver of his allotted pay. The caravan master didn't smile but tapped his lips with his index finger and nodded toward his wagon.

Inside, the caravan master pointed to a map spread on the small table. Notations showed Erinon at the western edge of Green Isle. On the coast of the mainland the city of Liester sat to the south, Scarritt to the north, and Ambridge was positioned inland to the east. “Never take anything for granted, my boy,” Ru said. “I expect Erinon will give us the best price for our grain, but circumstances have a way of proving thoughts to be foolishness.” He put his arm around Errol's shoulders. “You've never been to any of these cities, have you?”

Errol shook his head. Until the past few months, he had never left the area surrounding Callowford and Berea.

“I didn't think so. How necessary is it for you to know the cities before you cast lots?”

He shrugged. “Luis said I had to know it well in order to get an accurate draw, but Rale told me that if someone who knew the subject described it to me, it could be done, provided the lots are drawn often enough.”

“Would you be willing to try, Errol?”

Ru's arm still rested in friendly fashion on his shoulders, but a warning of danger tingled up his spine at the thought of saying no.

“I'll try.”

Ru clapped his hands. “Excellent, my boy. Stay here. I'll have Rokha join you. She knows the cities as well as I do. You like her, yes?”

He nodded, unsure of the direction Ru was taking.

“Excellent, excellent. I think she likes you too.”

Ru departed, and moments later Rokha entered without smiling. For the next two hours she described Erinon and the cities on the mainland coast until Errol could see them in his mind. But she looked him in the eyes only once—and without the fire and challenge he'd come to expect.

For an hour after he finished carving the lots, the three of them drew, scrambled the spheres, and drew again.

Hundreds of times.

Finally, Rokha raised her hand, looking at the tally. “I think that's enough, Father.”

The tedium appeared to have dampened Ru's enthusiasm. “Which one, daughter?”

“Erinon.”

“Ah.” Naaman Ru looked disappointed for the briefest moment before smiling in Errol's direction. “I see our purposes align, my boy. Your destination happens to be the most profitable port for our grain.” He gave Rokha a long look before speaking again.
“I must speak with Skorik before we pick up our cargo in the morning. My thanks, Errol.”

As soon as Ru exited the wagon, Rokha brushed past Errol and departed without a word. Left by himself, there was nothing for Errol to do except leave and rejoin the rest of the guards. Outside, ale and wine flowed among his fellows. Locks were placed on the wagon axles to keep them from being stolen, and the camp celebrated a successful sale.

In the midst of the celebration, Ru climbed past Grub atop the supply wagon and raised his hands for quiet. “My fellow adventurers, earlier I could see your surprise at the amount of your bonus. As it so happens, our hides were in more demand up north than even I realized. I think it only fair to tell you that I had help in negotiating top price for our cargo. Would you like to know who?”

A chorus of yells came from the assembled guards. Some of them struggled to stay upright.

Ru smiled like an actor playing his audience. “As it so happens, Rokha and our newest member, Errol, are skilled negotiators.” He gestured to each of them in turn, offering them a small bow and flourish of his hand. “What say you all? Shall we keep them with us?”

The guards roared their approval. Rokha inclined her head briefly and favored them with a tight-lipped smile. Errol flushed at the applause and Ru's obvious manipulation. He could not stay with the caravan. Even now he could close his eyes and point without hesitation toward Erinon. The church's compulsion worked on him, though it did not trouble him yet. He left the wagons with the cheers of his fellow guards following him into the cool summer evening. The air here in the lowlands clung to him. He reached up and undid the laces at his throat.

Errol meandered, trying to work out Rokha's sudden change in attitude. Ru's daughter was five years his senior. He had no illusions that she would consider him a worthy suitor. . . .

But he'd thought they were friends.

Men drank and joked about the vagaries of women as a matter of course. Was Rokha's sudden change what they meant? He frowned. No, it didn't fit. Rokha, bold and alluring like a bird of prey, bore little resemblance to those pouty women who waved their fans and batted their eyes. Ru's daughter wouldn't ignore him without reason.

And the reason had something to do with Ru.

What was the man planning?

Frustrated, he sought a patch of open ground away from the noise and commotion of the caravans. He stood facing west and watched the sun cast its last feeble rays across the broad meadow and dip below the horizon. As dusk descended, he lost himself in his ritual of exercises, working them the way Rale had taught.

And stopped. He'd caught a glimpse of a figure ducking behind the edge of the last tent.

Skorik
. Errol rested his staff in the crook of his elbow and walked toward the tent. By the time he got there the first had left.

The caravan pulled out of Dronfeld the next day. The wagons creaked under the mountain of grain Ru had negotiated. Days passed as they crept toward Erinon, lucky to make eight leagues a day. Errol ground his teeth at the delay. So near to Illustra's capital, he could almost feel the pull of the conclave ahead of him.

One evening, as the light faded and the rolling hills lost much of their color, the caravan crested a rise in the road and came to the village of Corwin. So close to the coast, villages occurred more frequently. They'd already passed through three that day. Each night the guards had looked forward to their reprieve from sleeping on the ground. Those who drew duty waited anxiously for their turn at the inns, eager to exchange their bonus for ale and beds.

As they parked the wagons, Errol unsaddled Midnight and led him to the picket line to place him with the rest of the horses. Rokha stood at the end rubbing the nose of Anoth, her stallion.
When Errol drew near, she gave the horse a firm pat on the shoulder and strode away, the tightness in her back radiating tension.

He curried and watered his horse, trying to devise some way to talk to the caravan master's daughter. Midnight nickered and nuzzled him on the ear, which brought a smile to his lips. He grabbed the horse's head and scratched the patch of white between his eyes. “At least you still like me. I wish I knew what I'd done to make Rokha look at me like slime on a pool.”

“Women are hard to figure,” a voice said just behind him. “Best not to try.”

Errol took his time as he turned to face the speaker, not wanting to give Skorik the satisfaction of knowing he'd been startled. “Do you know why she's avoiding me?” He tried, but couldn't quite keep the challenge from his voice.

The first's eyes narrowed and his face hardened. “I know only what Ru tells me. And right now he tells me that he wants an extra guard on the caravan. You're last in line. That means you.” His hand moved toward the sword on his hip, the motion slight but unmistakable.

As thirteenth, Errol didn't have any choice in the matter, so he contented himself with the knowledge that they would soon be at Erinon. He would probably never see Rokha after that. He nodded to Skorik. “I understand.”

The first nodded and walked away in the direction of the inns, but after Skorik disappeared into the shadows Errol's skin prickled with the sensation of being watched. With a sigh, he grabbed his staff from his pile of gear near the picket line.

Besides himself, Conger, Sven, and Jhade had duty. Conger posted himself near the fire. He lifted his head each time he turned a page to check on the wagons nearest to him. Jhade stood as though she'd been carved from stone, her eyes unblinking and gazing out into the night. Sven kept close to the supply wagon. One fist held an oversized loaf of bread, while the other gripped a wedge of cheese large enough to feed three people.

“Pointless,” the Soede muttered. And it was. The village of
Corwin probably didn't even boast a pickpocket, let alone a thief bold enough to try and make off with bags of grain that each weighed seven stone. For some reason, Ru wanted to keep him near the caravan tonight. But why?

Bored, and frustrated by his questions, he made a circuit of the camp. He moved away from Grub's supply wagon and smiled as the sounds of Sven's gorging faded. Twenty wagons later he came to the head of the caravan, Ru's quarters. The muted sound of voices came from within, and he slowed.

From where he stood he could make out the pitch and cadence of the conversation but not the words. Errol edged closer, stepping lightly to avoid noise. The voices belonged to Ru and his daughter.

“No,” Rokha said. Her voice sounded defensive.

“No? Does a dutiful daughter say
no
to her father?” Ru's voice cut the air like a sword, sharp and pitiless.

“Does a father sell his daughter for a few bags of grain?” Rokha fired back.

“You're being emotional, child. This is our chance to make a fortune.”

Errol's ears prickled. He dropped to one knee as though checking the sole of his boot. He suspected somewhere in the darkness Skorik watched him.

“What if the church finds out?” Rokha asked. Her voice now held the measured tone that Errol knew well.

“They're not going to find out. Only you and I know the boy is more than a simple caravan guard.”

Silence fell over the interior of Ru's wagon, and Errol rose to move on. Then Rokha's voice came through the walls again.

“This is dishonorable, Father. I thought better of you.”

The sharp retort of someone being slapped cracked through the air.

Errol gripped his staff and a roaring filled his ears. He'd hit her.

“I can see that I have been too lenient with you,” Ru said, his voice cold as the wind in Soeden. “A daughter does not question
her father's decision, and an employee does not gainsay her master. You will do as you are told. Now, I order you to find the boy and do as I have instructed.”

Errol turned and retraced his steps back toward the supply wagon. He kept his pace as slow as he dared. Rokha would be approaching from the far side. To calm himself he counted the grain wagons again as he returned.

When he rounded the supply wagon he saw Ru's daughter there before him.