“Not at all,” he replied.
Day the 23rd of the Growing Moon
Year the 6th of the Independent Alliance of Traders
From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug
To Erek, Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown
From the Traders’ Councils at Cassarick and Trehaug to the Bingtown Traders’ Council, in a sealed scroll case, an accounting of the expected expenses for moving the dragons to a spot more conducive to their good health, with the Bingtown Traders’ Council’s share of the expenses itemized in detail.
Erek,
You should not listen to silly gossip. The dragons are to be moved, not slaughtered or sold! How rumors do twist as they fly. I have received the peas, and the difference in my birds’ plumage is already noticeable. Is this feed expensive? Is it possible you could acquire a hundredweight sack for me, if it is not too dear?
Detozi
Chapter Nine Journey
Leftrin straightened up from slouching against the railing and peered down the dock at the procession headed toward the Tarman. Was this what Trell was sending his way? He scratched a whiskery cheek and shook his head to himself. Two dock workers were pushing barrows laden with heavy trunks. Another two followed carrying something the size of a wardrobe. And following behind them came a man dressed more for a tea party in Bingtown than for a trip up the Rain Wild River on a barge. He wore a long dark blue jacket over dove-gray trousers and low black boots and was bareheaded. He looked fit, in the manner of a man who is generally so but has never developed the muscles of a particular trade. He carried nothing save a walking stick. “Never worked a day in his life,” Leftrin decided quietly.
The woman on his arm looked as if she had at least tried to be practical. A brimmed hat shaded her face; Leftrin supposed that the loose netting attached to it was intended to protect her from insects. Her dress was dark green. The fitted bodice and wrist-length sleeves showed off a tidy upper figure, but he estimated there was enough fabric in the skirts that belled out around her to dress half a dozen women her size. Little white gloves protected her hands. He caught a glimpse of a neat black-booted foot as she walked toward his barge.
The runner had reached him just before he ordered his crew to cast off for their trip upriver to Cassarick. “Trell from the Paragon says he’s got a couple of passengers who want to get to Cassarick fast. They’ll pay you well if you’ll wait for them to transfer.”
“Tell Trell I’ll wait half an hour for them. After that, I’m gone,” he’d told the boy who had run the message. The lad had bobbed an acknowledgment and scampered off.
Well, he had waited substantially more than half an hour for them. And now that he saw them, he doubted the wisdom of accepting them aboard. He’d expected Rain Wild folk in a hurry to get home, not Bingtowners with a full complement of luggage. He spat over the side. Well, he hoped they’d meant what they’d said about paying him well to wait for them.
“Our cargo is here. Get it loaded,” he ordered Hennesey.
“Skelly. Get it done,” the mate passed the command onto the young deckhand.
“Sir,” the girl acknowledged him and jumped lightly across to the dock. Big Eider moved to help her. Leftrin remained where he was, watching his passengers approach. They reached the end of the dock, and the man visibly recoiled at the sight of the long, low barge that awaited them. Leftrin chuckled quietly as the fellow looked about, obviously hoping there was some other vessel waiting to convey them upriver. Lace. The dandy had lace at the neck of his shirt and showing at the cuffs of his jacket. Then the man looked directly up at Leftrin and he composed his face.
“Is this the Tarman?” he asked, almost desperately.
“It is indeed. And I’m Captain Leftrin. I assume you’re my passengers, in need of swift transport to Cassarick. Welcome aboard.”
The man once more cast a wild glance about. “But—I thought—” He watched in horror as one of their heavy cases teetered on the Tarman’s railing before sliding with a thump to land safely on the deck. He turned to his female companion, “Alise, this isn’t wise. This ship isn’t a proper place for a lady. We’ll just have to wait. It can’t hurt for us to take a day or two in Trehaug. I’ve always been curious about this city, and we’ve scarcely glimpsed it.”
“We’ve no choice, Sedric. Paragon will stay here at Trehaug for ten days at most. The journey from here to Cassarick will take two days, and we have to allot two more days to travel back and meet Paragon before he sails. That gives us only six days in Cassarick, at most.” The woman’s voice was calm and throaty, with a hint of sadness in it. The veiling on her hat concealed most of her face, but Leftrin glimpsed a small determined chin and a wide mouth.
