The Dragon of Time: Gods and Dragons (33 page)

“My cousin, Loculos, makes knife handles from
antlers. I’m sure you can work out a deal with him,” Jerthol
advised.

The two then commenced haggling over what the
hide was worth minus the cost of removing the antlers. They settled
on ten coppers and then received instructions on finding Loculos,
the weapon smith. Upon finding him, it turned out the smith had no
interest in making a purchase as he claimed he had enough antlers
for fifty knives at the time, but Ylithia convinced him to accept
in exchange for a few arrows. He agreed for the sake of the King of
Alduheim, albeit begrudgingly. By the end of the end day, Scar had
twenty four coins to his name and three more nice arrows.

“Now where do you propose we find transport?”
Scar asked Ylithia.

“Probably too late, now, though we could find
the export warehouse and ask around there.”

Loculos interrupted, saying, “Doubtful you’ll
find anyone right now. You should ask around in the morning.”

“Why?” Ylithia demanded.

“Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you my
father owns the Bounding Beaver Inn toward the center of town, but
seriously, I don’t think you’ll find too many traders traveling by
cart. The cold season is practically upon us, you know, and trade
slows down for a week or so until it gets really cold and hunters
start trading pelts…there are no crops right now, you see,” the
tailor explained.

“So, this Bounding Beaver, there is food and
drink there?” Scar asked.

“Only the best in Kathka,” Loculos
laughed.

“All of you know each other around here,
don’t you,” Scar joked.

“That’s the Closic way, my friend. We look
out for one another.”

“I think I like the Closic way,” Scar said to
Ylithia.

She smiled, replying, “Better than cutting
down everyone in your path, isn’t it?”

“You should know as well as I,” he burst out
laughing.

Loculos didn’t know what to make of their
display, but Jerthol had sent them, and if he could finagle a few
coins out of them for his father, all the better. Once Scar and
Ylithia decided sleeping together in a bed had its benefits, they
inquired about finding the inn.

The tailor stated it was actually across from
the export warehouse at the center edge of the town. They thanked
him, moseyed out of the weapons shop, and traipsed down the main
road past families rushing home. The inn had a large wooden sign—a
goofy beaver in mid run—with lanterns on either side over two
opened doors. The sound of flutes and violins permeated into the
street.

“Nice music,” Scar said to his partner as he
stood by the entrance and motioned for her to go inside.

“I could do better,” she chuckled.

“I’d love to hear it sometime.”

So they went in, crossed the foyer, and into
a large, dining area. A spit over the hearth fire released the
mouthwatering scent of rabbits roasting. They sat on stools at the
bar across from the hearth. An older, Fafnirian female with a
chestnut ponytail approached them. She had a big grin, the kind
that made it look like she had too many teeth. Scar also started
taking notice that Ylithia’s skin tone was paler than her
kinsmen.

“What can I do for you two?” the barkeep
asked, thus breaking his judgments.

“How much for the night?” Ylithia asked. “Oh,
and Loculos sent us.”

“That cheeky boy,” the boisterous woman
commented. “Sendin’ the visitin’ King to us…it’ll be eight coins
for the night. Food an’ drink are extra. Heavy blankets are extra.
The mornin’ wake is extra. Stayin’ past sunrise is extra.”

“What isn’t extra?” Scar jested.

“My cheery attitude,” the barkeep exclaimed
and laughed uproariously.

Scar couldn’t contain himself and laughed,
too.

“I think we’ll just take the room,” Ylithia
offered.

The woman bowed her head respectfully. After
payment was received, she howled to someone called Joclor. An
adolescent boy came from a room behind the bar. After he received
the woman’s instructions, he came around the bar and led Scar and
Ylithia through a hallway with paintings of the Closic countryside
and finally to their room. It was illuminated by candles.

“Purchase any extras?” Joclor asked.

“No, we’re fine,” Scar said. “Thank you.”

The boy held out his hand and Scar shook
it.

“You’re supposed to tip him,” Ylithia
reprimanded.

Scar looked at her then back at Joclor then
back at Ylithia. “How much?”

She grumbled while smiling and gave the boy a
coin before sending him on his way. Scar mused over the
proceedings, but had tipping her in mind, which he did twice in the
warm bed of hay and pelts. Afterwards, he commented on her
state.

“Well, you were extra snippety today.”

“I know,” she said, cradled in his arms.
“It’s just that I haven’t been in Closicus in ten years. Now here I
am and in the garbs of Mekosh. I can feel their judgmental eyes
upon me.”

“They were as much on me, and I have to say,
I don’t think anyone was judging either of us. I really like it
here.”

She smiled to herself and clutched his arm,
saying, “I’m glad that you do, and maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m
just being hard on myself. No matter, we’ll find transport tomorrow
and then ride out to Othnatus. If you like it here, you’ll like it
even more there.”

“I can’t wait.”

He blew out the candles and kept her near his
body. Before too long her breathing slowed to a rhythmic pulse. She
was asleep. Scar thought about life in Othnatus with the wonderful
woman he had met all thanks to the Goddess of Love and silently
thanked Silwen even though killing the Dragons was the farthest
thing from his mind. He fell asleep shortly after.

He woke early the next morning. It was still
dark. Again the word Sarkany played over his mind, but he shrugged
it off. He shook Ylithia gently, and when she rose, he gave her a
kiss on the forehead.

“Time to go before they charge extra,” he
said.

“Right.”

They stretched and got dressed without delay.
When they stepped out to the dining area, they found it deserted.
The fire had quelled and only embers remained. They ate some of the
food Foxus had left them before heading out into the chilly
morning. Chatter from the warehouse across the way was audible.
Workers were joking as they shuffled merchandise around. The
travelers jogged over. There were no traders, but a jovial, young
man greeted them profusely.

“What can Kathka do for the King of
Alduheim?” the man asked.

“Actually, we were hoping to arrange
transport to Othnatus,” Scar replied.

“Oh, sure, a nice town that is,” the worker
said. “Why don’t the two of you sit down? My schedule says Onger
the trader is due in today.”

“Splendid news,” Scar chirped and looked at
his comrade. She smiled back. “I thought there might be a problem,
some of the townsfolk insinuated there was little travel at this
time.”

“That’s correct,” the worker said. “But Onger
is a well known businessman. He has many wagons roaming around
through all of Tiamhaal. He often stops in here to collect payments
for his franchise,
The Onger Tradesmen.

“Kathka’s his hometown, and this is where he
started it all over twenty years ago. You’re really quite lucky to
meet him.”

“I’m sure he’s a wonderful man,” Ylithia
interrupted. “You’re certain he’s even headed towards
Othnatus?”

She was a bit leery of the young worker, who
appeared to be half in love with Onger, the trader.

“Can’t say for certain,” the man replied, and
Ylithia gave Scar a knowing look, but the worker continued. “I
should think he’ll be going to Genova from here, and then who
knows? Worst case, you can hop off there and make your way
east.”

“Good enough for me,” Scar said.

“That’s him now,” the man cheered and pointed
to a cart heading towards the warehouse.

Two horses pulling an immense cart were
trotting over the cobbled road. The wooden wheels created a rapid
staccato sound. The man at the reins wore a gray riding cloak with
the cowl pulled over his head. When he drew near the large
building, he pulled his cowl back revealing an aged, bronze face, a
scraggly, gray beard, and bouncing, gray curls over his head. He
smiled at Scar and Ylithia before giving his attention to the
worker, who practically fawned over the trader.

“Good morning, Onger!” the worker cheered as
he pet the horses and pulled a carrot form his pocket.

“Morning, Dobbynus,” Onger replied. “You have
your father’s payment?”

“Of course, Sir,” Dobbynus replied.

He finished feeding one horse, pulled another
carrot out for the other, and a rolled up document, which he handed
to Onger. The trader read over the document. By the time he
finished with a big smile, he had his hand out for payment.
Dobbynus undid a coin purses from his belt and handed it to
Onger.

The trader painstakingly counted each coin to
be sure it was a full payment, and then he smiled again. Dobbynus
finished feeding the other horse and commented on their beauty and
grace.

“When will you be taking over?” Onger asked
the worker.

“Dad says he wants one more big haul to tithe
him over before sending me out alone.”

“Your father’s one of my best in Closicus.
Don’t you smear the family name, boy,” he admonished with a
smile.

“Never, Sir, now, the King of Alduheim and
his friend were hoping for a ride.”

“Oh,” Onger asked as he gave the two
travelers his attention. “A king and a paladin are in need of my
services?”

“We would very much appreciate a ride to
Othnatus if you are heading that way,” Ylithia stated. “Also, I am
no longer a paladin, just a humble Fafnirian.”

“I see…you have coin?” Onger asked.

“How much do you require?” Scar asked.

“That depends,” the trader trailed off with a
smile.

At that time, Dobbynus resumed his work,
which included a great deal of riffling through documents and
double checking containers.

“On what does our price depend?” Ylithia
inquired.

Onger took a long inhalation and fiddled with
his beard before replying, “I am travelling to Murcas then Genova.
From there it’ll be a crow’s flight to Oralia, but that is as far
east as I am travelling. I have to ride south into other towns
before making my stops in Sudai. There is no time for a ride
directly to Othnatus.”

“Oralia is just a day’s walk from Othnatus.
That is sufficient,” Ylithia interrupted. “But the price…?”

“Price,” Onger echoed. “What is the King of
Alduheim doing here, and what is your business in Othnatus?”

Scar chuckled, and Ylithia cut in to answer
for him. “The king has shown me the errors of worshiping Mekosh. As
payment in kind I promised to accompany him to Othnatus, thus
acting as a liaison in Closicus. He has no concept of our customs.
Whatever his business is, I’m afraid it is his own.”

“Well spoken, lass,” Onger nodded. “What is
your name?”

“I am called Ylithia.”

“I knew an Ylithia once…or was it Ulathia…it
was a long time ago,” Onger said while staring off.

She and Scar exchanged a look of intrigue.
Finally, Scar had to comment on the oddity of such a prominent
businessman having no guards.

“I am Onger, master tradesmen, my liege,” he
said with a Cheshire cat’s smile. “No one can best my silver
tongue. I do not need protection.”

“Not even from bandits’ traps?” Scar asked in
disbelief.

“Pshaw! I can talk my way out of anything,”
he replied with a subtle nod and cocked eyebrow.

Scar smiled, but Ylithia remained skeptical.
He was definitely an eccentric, old man, and he still hadn’t
provided his price.

“So…the cost of a ride?” she demanded.

“Yes, I will do the king a favor, and when
Alduheim rises to its purported glory, old Onger, master tradesman,
will come to have his favor repaid,” the strange trader said with a
fierce gaze aimed at Scar, who remained peaceful.

“If that’s all you want,” Scar said with a
shrug.

Onger closed his eyes and let his head bob up
and down a bit as though silently applauding himself. “Climb on
back and make yourselves comfortable,” Onger offered. “We ride out
in a moment.”

The master tradesman finished checking over
his documents. He noted the payment received from Dobbynus then
shouted at the horses. He turned the cart around in a wide arc, and
they rolled out of Kathka, past the entry guards, and back onto the
cobbled street. The morning light cast oblique shadows off the
arches, which swooped over the travelers for a long time.

Riding along was always a more relaxing
venture than hiking and aroused better conversation. Onger turned
out to be quite the talkative fellow himself, which was of little
surprise, he being Fafnirian and all.

“You know, I started out here in Kathka,” he
yelled over his shoulder. “Made it big in Genova when I took an
advance from the bank and bought two more carts. That’s when I knew
charging others a fee to trade in my name would be far more
profitable than trying to take on the whole world on my own.”

“You trade in every country?” Scar asked.

“Aye,” Onger replied. “Those that can’t be
reached by cart can be reached by boat. To date, I have eleven
carts and three boats, eighty four employees, and millions of
coins.”

“I’m honored that you’re personally
transporting us then,” Scar flattered.

“It truly is very kind of you,” Ylithia
admitted.

“Pay it no mind,” he said and remained quiet
for a moment. Then he started up again. “Four countries use only
The Onger Tradesmen for their international needs.” As though he
anticipated their question he added, “Closicus, Eltanrof, Satrone,
and Wuulefroth. Mind you, they use their own men for trading and
moving supplies within their own borders, but they hire my men to
trade outside their countries.”