"Bates, escort these four gents to the Three Pigs," Halence ordered, tapping the arm of one of his men. He was a short, sandy-haired fellow, barefoot like his mates. The gent in question looked none too pleased with the request, but had little cause to complain, Sorn thought, seeing as he had been lounging on several of the sacks of grain.
"Yes, Captain," the young man said in a voice not quite a sigh, and Sorn found himself wondering if the lad was any older than Sorn himself appeared to be.
"Look at it this way, it beats loading grain, doesn't it?" Sorn said to Bates once they were out of sight of Halence.
"Indeed it does sir, indeed it does." Bates laughed, favoring Sorn with a more approving smile, apparently having forgiven him for being the end of his impromptu rest. "So, what do you gents do? You're obviously not sailors, if you don't mind me saying so, and the captain is paying you respect. If I didn't know better, I would say you were investors, but if any of you have hit your majority, then I'm the King's man! Let me think… You guys share a certain resemblance, especially you three!" Hanz, Fitz, and Lieberman couldn't help grinning at that. "I know, you're working under your father, and he's trying to give you some experience with trading and the like, right?"
Sorn exchanged a smile with his cousins. "Actually, Bates, your first hunch was closest. We are investors. In fact, we still own the cargo. You might as well know, we'll be coming along with you on the trip."
Bates' short gasp indicated his surprise, though he tried to play it cool. "The captain was all right with that, was he? I mean, people trust the captain to keep his word. Good as gold, most say. He can be shrewd, but he always keeps his end of the bargain."
"Of course," Sorn soothed. "Rest assured, we have full faith in the captain's abilities. Nonetheless, we thought we would take advantage of this opportunity to see a bit more of the world, so to speak. Best way to get a feel for a market is to actually go there, wouldn't you say?"
Bates could only shake his head at this. "Mate, you might want to think this one over. This ain't gonna be no pleasure trip. The captain's going to be making a fast run of it through choppy waters. If you're not used to the sea, if you haven't lived on it all your days like me, you'll be sick as a dog and twice as green. Your belly will be rolling worse than our ship! Trust me, mate, there'll be terribly choppy waters out there, and I wouldn't want to see such fine gents as yourselves all sick and ugly and puking to wish to die. That's no way to spend your days when you could be at port here, sleeping in fine beds, drinking at the best taverns, even maybe making acquaintanceships with the fairer sex, if you know what I mean? I mean come on, lads, don't you think I'd far rather spend my nights on a feather bed in the warm arms of something lovely, happily waiting for my gold to come in, rather than shivering myself to sleep on choppy seas?"
"Warm arms of something lovely?" a puzzled Fitz asked.
"He means girls," Lieberman answered knowingly.
"Oh. How am I supposed to know that, if he thinks it so vaguely?"
To this Lieberman gave a puzzled shrug. “It's just another one of those metaphors Sorn told us about. People from here don't always say what they mean, so their words taste fuzzy and pokey.”
Bates favored the two with a look that spoke volumes before addressing Sorn once again. "And do you really think your younger brothers should be going? Isn't your mother concerned?"
"He's our cousin, Bates, and Mother's probably furious!" Fitz said happily.
"Yes, she probably had a terrible fit." Hanz nodded.
"Quite likely burned down the entire castle. And it’s stone!" Lieberman chortled.
Fitz sighed contentedly. "She's probably never been more pissed with us in her entire life."
Lieberman nodded his heartfelt agreement. "Yes indeed, we really outdid ourselves this time. I mean, the millennial ceremony, once every thousand years. And our obnoxious brothers, all pompous and superior and 'we're first' and 'your just an unnecessary contingency' crap. And here we are! Not them, us! With Sorn, no less! Who'd have thought?"
"Yes, Lieberman, who'd have thought?" Sorn sighed, noting the increasingly curious glances Bates was directing their way. "Now if you would all kindly shut up, we have a dinner to get to."
Shortly thereafter, their quick footsteps led them to the front entrance of a building that looked much like its neighbors, save for being larger, in excellent repair, and possessing a curious sign above its entrance depicting three very pink, very happy looking pigs. "Here we are, gents. The Three Pigs Inn! They have a great selection of pork cutlets, but their best fair is actually their stew. Best stew on the docks, if you ask me. Of course, we're not really on the docks anymore, but no sense splitting hairs, what? All right, lads, here we are!" Bates led the four bemused youths inside, wherein a rather heavyset fellow dressed in wool a finer cut than most, beamed happily at their presence.
"Greetings, gents, I'm innkeeper Gwallows. How might I help you all, this fine day?" If he thought it at all odd that one youth dressed as a sailor was accompanying four youths dressed as nobles' sons, he was too much the professional to show it.
"Hello there, innkeeper, my mates and I were feeling a bit famished and heard you serve the best stew on the docks!" Bates enthused.
"We do indeed, young sir, we do indeed. Come, let me lead you and your companions to the dining area. You might also find our pork cutlets to be of exceptional quality as well, should you be of a mind to try them."
The innkeeper led them back to a well-appointed dining area, possessing several large glass-pained windows looking out onto a soothing little nook of greenery, the kitchen's herb garden surrounded by evergreens, Sorn supposed. It was a beautiful little garden, made all the more precious for being found in the midst of this city of stone and slate, giving a view that brought to mind the peace of the countryside.
It was no wonder the inn kept its dining area in the back, Sorn thought, noting as well the interesting mix of clientele. At that moment there were several men dressed in the formal wear he now associated with factors, discussing some matter or another involving grain over succulent smelling cutlets at one of the tables near the windows, while in a far corner a group of barefoot men in the garb Sorn took for sailors quietly nursed their ale cups over generous portions of stew. Sorn also noted a group of men playing what looked to be a game of cards of one sort of another, adding copper coins to a pot, indicating cards drawn and taken with raised fingers or nods of the head over glasses of wine. The card players were dressed in outfits a bit more casual than the factors, yet with an elegant flair for lace and silk which led Sorn to think that these men were well-to-do gents of one sort or another. Perhaps they were nobles who could afford to spend their afternoons in pursuits of leisure, or perhaps they were investors awaiting word on one of their ships. Sorn supposed he would never know.
Curious and bemused as he was by the inn and its occupants, Sorn’s wandering attention quickly snapped back onto the innkeeper the moment he started going over the daily entrées.
"Now tonight we have, as always, fresh pork cutlets with apple sauce, bacon strips with fried eggs, succulent spare ribs with sweet sauce, and of course, our special Three Pig Stew. All our pork entrées come with potato wedges, fried carrots, and good white bread. The cutlets and ribs are four feathers each, the bacon strips with fried eggs are three feathers, and the stew is two feathers."
"I wouldn't mind seeing my way through a bowl of your delicious stew, and an ale to wash it down with, if my mates wouldn't mind," Bates said, throwing a grin Sorn's way.
"Not a problem," Sorn assured, not begrudging the friendly Bates a bit of good-natured sponging. "For myself, I would like to try… hmm… it all sounds so good. Say, Bates, what time is the captain meeting us, anyway?"
"Oh, he'll probably be a bit. We aren't leaving 'till the evening tide, and that's several hours after nightfall, to tell the truth."
Sorn smiled. "Well, that settles it. Innkeeper, your fare sounds so good, I think my cousins and I would l
ike to try everything."
"Everything young sirs? Ah, of course, you can each sample an entrée and determine which you like best. An excellent choice. And what, prey tell, would you care to drink with that? We have an excellent red wine, not too sharp, with a tart crispness that speaks of fresh autumn harvests and the bounty of spring. It goes particularly well with the pork cutlets. We also have a good stout ale, perfect for washing down our hearty servings. The ale is one feather, the red wine, I am pleased to say, is a mere three feathers due to a bit of judicious purchasing on the part of yours truly. Truly a steal, for its quality."
"Oh, wine!" said Fitz.
"Definitely. We want to taste the bounty of spring," Hanz concurred.
"Besides, ale's too sour. Don't you people have any mead? And what's a feather, anyway? Your tongue tastes of copper when you say it, but aren't feathers for birds?" Lieberman queried.
"Mead?" Bates queried, eyebrows raised. "I've tasted that stuff before, it's too sweet! It's really popular down south, though. Is that where you guys are from? Trust me, fellows, you're better off with the ale."
"Three wines for my companions, and an ale for me," Sorn affirmed. "And innkeeper? We don't want to try one of each entrée. We each want one of everything. Start us with the stew, and we'll work our way from there!" Sorn's cousins happily concurred to the surprise of the innkeeper, whose raised eyebrows belied his happy acquiescence.
"One of everything for the gents. Of course! Last chance to savor the bounties of port, no? Feasting before the famine of a long journey ahead. I understand completely, lads. Tell you what, I'll start you off with the stew, and then on to the pork cutlets with savory applesauce, and we'll take it from there, no?" With a warm smile and a polite little bow, the innkeeper went off to see to their orders.
"Are you chaps really going to eat four meals apiece?" Bates asked incredulously. "Can't blame any man for a good meal before casting off, but four meals? Lads, you're doing a right good turn by me, so I'll do the same for you with a little bit of advice. Unless you're an old hand on the sea, you should never eat a big meal before the voyage out, it makes it all the harder on your belly. And once you start getting sick, it just gets worse. I remember my first voyage, all bright-eyed I was for excitement and adventure sailing the seas around the world, and the first ship I booked I was sick for half the voyage! Four days of misery, I can tell you that. Fortunately, the captain was a good sort and took pity on me, made sure a man looked in on me and that I had water regular like. Good man, that. After the four days, though, I got better, and by the time we got to port, the sea was like an old friend to me.”
Bates favored his newfound companions with a solemn look quite at odds with the lighthearted disposition he had shown till then. "Tell me, lads, are you sure you want to make this voyage? I'm doing you a right turn by saying that this trip may be one that fate might be kind to let you avoid. The seas will be choppy, and that's no lie." Bates looked troubled, like he wanted to say something more, but was nonetheless silent. When a young redheaded lass came by with their drinks, he all too happily lost himself in sipping his ale.
"Aye that will be eleven feathers, gents," she said cheerfully. "Food ya pay when you've enjoyed your repast, drinks every round is how we do it here. Sometimes a man gets a bit forgetful when he's had too much to drink, and who can blame him? This way we keep everything understandable and happy and a man need remember nothing but the taste of his ale, and maybe the pleasure of a woman's company." She said the last bit smiling at Sorn, laughing warmly at his confused blush.
"I think she likes you, Sorn," Bates whispered mischievously as Sorn dug around for one of his remaining silver eagles.
"I'm sorry," Sorn said. "this is the smallest coin I have. I don't suppose you could make change?"
The girl gave Sorn a strange look when he tried to hand her the silver eagle.
"Ay Sorn, that's two hundred feathers! You don't have anything smaller?" Bates exclaimed when he saw the coin he was handing the girl.
"To tell you the truth," Sorn confessed, "I don't know what a feather is."
Bates favored Sorn with an odd look before replying. "Okay, Sorn, this is a feather." Bates then pulled out a copper coin about two-thirds the size of the silver eagle. "Twenty of these will get you one silver talon. A silver talon is about half as wide as the silver eagle and a lot thinner and weighs one tenth of what an eagle does. Each silver eagle is worth ten talons since they are the same purity. So, each Silver eagle is worth two hundred feathers!"
"Its okay, lads," the redhead said, flashing another smile at Sorn. "I'll just get Mr. Gwallows. He will be more than happy to take care of your needs." With that, she quickly made her way to the front, and shortly thereafter the beaming innkeeper came to their table. "Ah, the feasters! And your first entrée is on its way, I believe! Now dear Vanessa has informed me that you lads might need a bit of help with making change?" Sorn nodded and handed the man his silver eagle.
"Ah," Gwallows beamed. "A silver eagle. Always a favored coinage of our establishment. I will be more than happy to make change for you. I will be but a moment." At which point he hurried off to make change while Vanessa of the red curls brought them each their stew, brushing against Sorn as she did so more than once, and Sorn couldn't help but notice her warm softness and the unique fragrance that was distinctly her. It would be easier to believe the brushes accidental had it occurred to anyone else at their table, but she always seemed to be just a bit off balance when next to Sorn, gently pressing against him whenever she put down the various entrees.
Bates gave Sorn a nudge and a wink as Vanessa left, but otherwise left him alone to enjoy his stew, all five of them eating their hearty fair, rich with pieces of pork, beans, and potatoes in a savory chicken broth. It was definitely a good stew. And his cousins' distaste to the contrary, the ale was pretty good as well, Sorn thought. At least they had the sense to cut their wine with water, Sorn was pleased to see, somewhat surprised they retained even that much sense. Although York seemed a clean city, Sorn had studied enough to know city dwellers in many places drank watered wine or ale, simply for fear of bad humors causing sickness being found in the water. Somehow what was in wine killed it, much like it could be used to kill the foul humors that might otherwise fester in a wound.
Though moderation in drinking seemed prudent to Sorn, eating habits were a different matter entirely. By the time Bates had finished his stew with a contented sigh and went back to sipping his ale, Sorn and his cousins were more than ready for the next course, and the next, and the next when it came, to the increasing wonderment of Bates and the innkeeper both. The inn had filled up a bit as the day wore on into evening, Sorn noted, as he finished the last bit of his bacon strips. All and all, he had enjoyed the fresh pork cutlets with applesauce the best, though the spare ribs with sweet sauce was also delicious, as was the bacon strips with eggs he had just polished off. The potato wedges and fried carrots were both quite edible as well, though he favored the wedges. The bread was soft and warm, smelling faintly of honey. Much like Vanessa, Sorn having had that little fact demonstrated numerous times for his benefit as evening fell.
"Well, gentlemen, the tally for the night's culinary adventure, of which I must say you all acquitted yourselves quite admirably, is two talons and fourteen feathers. Ah, thank you!" he said as Sorn, feeling the slightest bit lightheaded from his four cups of ale, counted out the fare. Having paid for four rounds of drinks already, which set him back forty-four feathers as the triplets insisted on wine, that set him back... ninety-eight feathers, or four talons and eighteen feathers. According to Lord Canterbier, that was almost half the cost of a good quality sword, Sorn reflected. He and his cousins would definitely be needing the funds from this trade venture with the rate they ate alone, Sorn thought wryly as he handed Innkeeper Gwallows his coin.
"So. Vanessa likes you, Sorn. You know that, right? So when are you gonna, you know, buy her a drink?" asked an increasingly tipsy Bates. "Oh, high, Capt
ain! Say, Captain, you should see the way these guys eat! Wow! I reckon they could eat out our whole crew, should they put their minds to it. We better leave the cook here, or we won't have any grain left when we hit Caverenoc!" Bates snickered, looking bleary eyed at Captain Halence who did not look too amused.
"Keep your mouth shut Bates. Now get back to the ship."
Bates' tipsy good cheer dissipated rapidly.
"Aye, Captain," said a suddenly crestfallen Bates who then made his way out the inn.
"The boy's a fool," Halence said softly to himself. Sorn assumed he was referring to Bates mentioning their destination, but didn't realize that it had been any big secret. Of course, had Halence managed to buy the grain directly, he would have been under no obligation to tell anyone where he was going, and perhaps there was good reason for this. It left Sorn wondering, however, that if this was the case, and the port of call was a secret, why had he discussed it so candidly with Jesere and them? Perhaps because he first had to secure the grain before worrying about ports of call, and if he didn't secure his cargo, then there was no secret in any case, Sorn speculated. At least, that was the only reason that made sense to him.
"Well, lads," Halence said with a smile, "it looks like you have indeed enjoyed your last dinner at port. Can't say I envy your bellies once we hit sea though. Vanessa dear,” Halence said, gently accosting her arm in passing, "stew and ale when you have the chance."
Vanessa flashed Halence a warm smile when she saw him. "Halence! When did you get into port? And are these your friends?" She asked, throwing a speculative glance at Sorn.
"Newly made acquaintances, Vanessa, newly made acquaintances. I just got in recently, and as to when we leave, it all depends. Knew I wanted to stop by the Three Pigs, though, so I could tip my favorite waitress."
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