Peter Brett: The Painted Man

'How bad is it, really?' he asked when he returned.

'Bad,' Ragen said. 'Twenty-seven so far, and a few still unaccounted for.'

'Creator,' Rusco swore, drawing a ward in the air in front of him. 'I had thought a family, at worst.'

'If only,' Ragen said.

They were both silent for a moment, as was decent, then looked up at each other as one.

'You have this year's salt?' Rusco asked.

'You have the duke's rice?' Ragen replied.

'Been holding it all winter, you being so late,' Rusco said.

Ragen's eyes narrowed.

'Oh, it's still good!' Rusco said, his hands coming up suddenly, as if pleading. 'I've kept it sealed and dry, and there are no vermin in my cellar!'

'I'll need to be sure, you understand,' Ragen said.

'Of course, of course,' Rusco said. 'Arlen, fetch that lamp!' he ordered, pointing the boy towards the corner of the bar.

Arlen scurried over to the lantern, picking up the striker. He lit the wick and lowered the glass reverently. He had never been trusted to hold glass before. It was colder than he imagined, but quickly grew warm as the flame licked it.

'Carry it down to the cellar for us,' Rusco ordered. Arlen tried to contain his excitement. He had always wanted to see behind the bar. They said if everyone in the Brook put all their possessions in on pile, it would not rival the wonders of Hog's cellar.

He watched as Rusco pulled a ring on his floor, opening a wide trap. Arlen came forward quickly, worried old Hog would change his mind. He went down the creaking steps, holding the lantern high to illuminate the way. As he did, the light touched on stacks of crates and barrels from floor to ceiling, running in even rows stretching back past the edges of the light. The floor was wooden to prevent corelings from rising directly into the cellar from the Core, but there were still wards carved into the racks along the walls. Old Hog was careful with his treasures.

The storekeeper led the way through the aisles to the sealed barrels in the back. 'They look unspoiled,' Ragen said, inspecting the wood. He considered a moment, then chose at random. 'That one,' he said, pointing to a barrel.

Rusco grunted and hauled out the barrel in question. Some people called his work easy, but his arms were as hard and thick as any that swung an axe or scythe. He broke the seal and popped still be heard. 'Out here, if you can't eat something, or wear it, paint a ward with it, or use it to till your field, it's not worth much of anything.'

He returned a moment later with a large cloth sack he deposited on the counter with a clink.

'People here have forgotten that gold moves the world,' he went on, reaching into the bag and pulling out two heavy yellow coins, which he waved in Ragen's face. 'The miller's kids were using these as game pieces! Game pieces! I told them I'd trade the gold for a carved wood game set I had in the back, they thought I was doing them a favour! Ferd even came by the next day to thank me!' He laughed a deep belly laugh. Arlen felt like he should be offended by that laugh, but he wasn't quite sure why.

He had played the Millers' game many times, and it seemed worth more than two metal disks, however shiny they might be.

'I brought a lot more than two suns worth,' Ragen said, nodding at the coins and then looking towards the bag.

Rusco smiled. 'Not to worry,' he said, untying the bag fully. As the cloth flattened on the counter, more bright coins spilled out, along with chains and rings and ropes of glittering stones. It was all very pretty, Arlen supposed, but he was surprised at how Ragen's eyes bulged and took on a covetous glitter.

Again they haggled, Ragen holding the stones up to the light and biting the coins, while Rusco fingered the cloth and tasted the spices. It was a blur to Arlen, whose head was spinning from the ale. Mug after mug came to the men from Catrin at the bar, but they showed no signs of being as affected as Arlen.

'Two hundred and twenty gold suns, two silver moons, the rope chain, and the three silver rings,' Rusco said at last. 'And not a copper light more.'

'No wonder you work out in a backwater,' Ragen said. 'They must have run you out of the city for a cheat.'

'Insults won't make you any richer,' Hog said, confident he had the upper hand.

'No riches for me this time,' Ragen said. 'After my travelling costs, every last light will go to Graig's widow.'

'Ah, Jenya,' Rusco said wistfully. 'She used to pen for some of those in Miln with no letters, my idiot nephew, among them. What will become of her?'

Ragen shook his head. 'The Guild paid no death-price to her, because Graig died at home,' he said. 'And since she isn't a Mother, a lot of jobs will be denied her.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Rusco said.

'Graig left her some money,' Ragen said, 'though he never had much, and the Guild will still pay her to pen. With the money from this trip, she should have enough to get by for a time. She's young, though, and it will run out eventually unless she remarries or finds better work.'

'And then?' Rusco asked.

Ragen shrugged. 'It'll be hard for her to find a new husband, having already married and failed to bear children, but she won't become a Beggar. My Guild brothers and I have sworn that. One of us will take her in as a Servant before that happens.'

Rusco shook his head. 'Still, to fall from Merchant class to Servant…' He reached into the much lighter bag and produced a ring with a clear, sparkling stone set into it. 'See that she gets this,' he said holding the ring out.

As Ragen reached for it, though, Rusco pulled it back suddenly. 'I'll have a message back from her, you understand,' he said. 'I know how she shapes her letters.' Ragen looked at him a moment, and he quickly added, 'No insult meant.'

Ragen smiled. 'Your generosity outweighs your insult,' he said, taking the ring. 'This will keep her belly full for months.'

'Yes, well,' Rusco said gruffly, scooping up the remains of the bag, 'don't let any of the townies hear, or I'll lose my reputation as a cheat.'

'Your secret is safe with me,' Ragen said with a laugh.

'You could earn her a bit more, perhaps,' Rusco said.

'Oh?'

'The letters we have were meant to go to Miln six months ago. You stick around a few days while we pen and collect more, and maybe help pen a few, and I'll compensate you.

'No more gold,' he clarified, 'but surely Jenya could do with a cask of rice, or some cured fish or meal.'

'Indeed she could,' Ragen said.

'I can find work for your Jongleur, too,' Rusco added. 'He'll see more custom here in the Square than by hopping from farm to farm.'

'Agreed,' Ragen said. 'Keerin will need gold, though.'

Rusco gave him a wry look, and Ragen laughed. 'Had to try…you understand!' he said, echoing Hog's earlier words. 'Silver, then.'

Rusco nodded. 'I'll charge a moon for every performance, and for every moon, I'll keep one star and he the other three.'

'I thought you said the townies had no money,' Ragen noted.

'Most don't,' Rusco said. 'I'll sell the moons to them…say at the cost of five credits.'

'So Rusco Hog skims from both sides of the deal?' Ragen asked.

Hog smiled.

Arlen was excited during the ride back. Old Hog had promised to let him see the Jongleur for free if he spread the word that Keerin would be entertaining in the Square at high sun the next day for five credits or a silver Milnese moon. He wouldn't have much time; his parents would be readying to leave just as he and Ragen returned, but he was sure he could spread the word before they pulled him onto the cart.

'Tell me about the Free Cities,' Arlen begged as they rode. 'How many have you seen?'

'Five,' Ragen said, 'Miln, Angiers, Lakton, Rizon, and Krasia. There may be others beyond the mountains or the desert, but none that I know have seen them.'