by A. C. Cobble
“I know it’s only midday, but we have to stop and conduct some business,” Ben murmured under his breath.
“I heard you with the guard,” responded Amelie quietly.
“Do you remember where we put anything?” queried Ben.
Amelie shook her head. “We’d better figure it out soon.”
A long-limbed man was ambling across the green.
“Any medicines?” he called. “Tonics for pain, something for fever?”
Ben shared a look with Amelie and responded, “Sorry, good man. We’re sold out.”
The man frowned and turned on his heel.
“Let’s look and see what we do have,” muttered Amelie.
They hastily searched through the various containers in the wagon. By the time the next potential customer arrived, they were able to answer her inquiry. In a steady stream, men and women approached them, calling to see what was available. After the first time Amelie sold an ecstatic woman a set of new pots for a single silver, Ben handled the haggling. News of the woman’s fortune spread quickly. In one rush, they had half a dozen eager women begging for the same price.
“Six silver?” choked Amelie after Ben shooed the women away and assured them no one else would be getting such a good deal. “That seems like robbery. We don’t need the coin, and some of these people surely do. That one woman with the baby—”
Ben cut her off. “We’re supposed to be peddlers. If we make terrible bargains or start running a charity, we’ll be remembered. That’s the last thing we want.”
Amelie sighed in frustration and sat down on the back of the wagon to watch Ben work.
He wasn’t a natural salesman, but he’d been on the other side of the transaction enough to know how it worked. He’d start high, or the customer would start low. They’d go back and forth a few times then settle somewhere in the middle. He started to enjoy it a little and toughened his negotiating tactics. Copper, silver, and even two gold coins were all passed to Amelie who disappeared inside with them. Ben didn’t ask what she was doing with them. Since he met her, she always had gold, and he had coppers. He figured it was better to let her handle the actual coins as long as he could handle the negotiations.
The tinkers cheered up a bit as well. From where Ben was standing, he saw a handful of disappointed women leave his cart and go to the tinkers. When they couldn’t purchase new clothing or a new pot at the right price, they invested in repairing what they had. That was okay with Ben. They would spend the night next to the other wagon. Happy tinkers were better than angry tinkers.
Shortly before the sun set, a woman approached.
“My husband said you were holding cutlery for me?” she asked.
Ben smiled. “Wanda?”
The woman nodded.
Ben pulled out a simple wooden box and opened it to show her knives, forks, and spoons. It was a nice set.
“How much?” she asked.
“Five silver,” said Ben to start the haggling.
They went back and forth, and finally, when both were satisfied, Ben handed over the utensils and Wanda handed him the coins.
“You’ll enjoy them,” Ben assured the woman. “Your husband said you are a great cook and was glad you’d get proper—”
The woman snorted. “My husband didn’t say I was a great cook. Thank you all the same, but you’ve already made the sale.” She turned and departed.
Ben glanced over his shoulder to see where Amelie was starting a cook fire and laying out dinner.
“Want to let someone else cook tonight?” asked Ben.
“You mean a tavern?” replied Amelie. “Is that normal for traveling merchants?”
“If I drink some ale, it will be,” answered Ben with a grin.
“What about our wagon? Someone could break in and rob us.”
“Let’s ask the tinkers to watch it.”
When Ben approached her, the sour-faced woman was stirring a pot over her own cook fire. She’d left some unfinished sewing by a foldable camp chair. Her man was lounging on the ground and puffing on a sweet smelling pipe.
“Care to watch our wagon for us?” asked Ben. “We won’t be gone more than two bells.”
The woman glared at him.
“Come on, Mave,” chided the man. “Sure, boy, we’ll watch it for you, unless we get a better offer. Four coppers.”
“Price of two ales?” guessed Ben.
The man winked at him. “You can pay in coin now or bring ‘em back with you from the tavern.”
“I’ll bring them as soon as we’re done inside,” answered Ben.
The man exhaled a steady stream of pipe smoke. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Ben and Amelie hiked across the green to a noisy building on the other side. It had the hallmarks of a rough roadside tavern, but when they entered, Ben was surprised to see it half full of young people. It was also larger than he’d thought, at least four times the size of the Buckhorn back home. There were a scattering of wagon drivers, farm hands, and other earthy folk he expected to find the in the place, but there were also an odd number of clean-shaven, well-dressed, young men. They wore doublets and hose more appropriate to a lord’s reception hall than the simple tavern.
A tight cluster of young women was there as well. Their hair was stylishly pinned up and they had finely cut dresses. Ben and Amelie eyed the young people then found a seat near the door. The crowd appeared less dangerous than Ben expected, which was somehow even more unsettling.
A cheerful, rosy-cheeked barmaid appeared at their table. “University special?” she asked.
Ben blinked at her.
“Beef pie, side of buttered beans, and two ales each,” the girl responded.
“How much?” asked Amelie.
The girl frowned at them. “Are you not from the university?”
Ben replied, “We’re merchants. That’s our cart out on the green.”
“What’s the university?” asked Amelie.
The girl put her hands on her hips and furrowed her brows. “You’re not messing with me?”
Both Ben and Amelie shook their heads.
“It’s that big building up on the hill, the one with the dome. You can see the bloody thing a league outside of town.” The girl’s gaze darted between the two of them, still suspicious they were playing some prank on her. “The University of Morwith. Surely you’ve heard of it.”
Ben glanced at Amelie. He didn’t know anything about it. The only university he’d heard of was in the City.
“People come from all over to attend here, from hundreds of leagues away. Why, I met one boy who said he came all the way from Irrefort. Told me all about it. Said his da was an aide to a man on the Council. Though,” the barmaid adjusted her skirts, “he might have been lying about that.”
“Oh, of course!” exclaimed Amelie in an odd, slightly high-pitched voice. “The University of Morwith. We’ve been so busy selling today that it completely slipped my mind where we were. The dome. Yes, of course. I am so embarrassed now.”
The barmaid smiled down at Ben’s friend. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I get that way sometimes too.”
A moment of silence passed before Ben asked, “So, a meat pie, side of buttered beans, and two ales?”
The barmaid twisted her lips. “That’s the special for university students only. Six coppers each.”
“How much for merchants?”
The girl’s hands rose to rest on her hips again. “One silver.”
“We’ll take it,” interjected Amelie, beaming up at the barmaid. “One special for each of us.”
The girl spun and pranced back to the kitchen.
“What is a university?” asked Ben, “I saw the one in the City. Is it similar to a college of the sword?”
“Not exactly,” responded Amelie, eyeing the kitchen in case the girl returned. “It’s closer to the Sanctuary, actually, a place of academic learning. A wealthy merchant may send his son to learn about finance. A lord in the court
may want his son to study history and politics. Girls study art, and, well, many of them are there to find a rich husband. They may have classes in language, physics, and other subjects too depending on the university. They are not common. We didn’t have one in Issen. Instead, my father hired tutors. I studied many of the same subjects. Whitehall has one and the City of course.”
Ben frowned. “So it’s like an apprenticeship for rich people?”
Amelie grinned. “All of the students will be rather wealthy.”
The barmaid sat down two ale mugs, startling Ben. Silently, he reminded himself he needed to pay more attention. This deep in Coalition territory, any lapse could be fatal.
“They ain’t all rich,” remarked the barmaid. “Some of ‘em is poor as us.”
“How do they afford to attend then?” inquired Amelie curiously.
“You really are from far off.” The barmaid snickered. “The Coalition Council pays for a third of the spots each year. Everyone knows that. It doesn’t matter if you’re a lord or a pig farmer. They pay for whoever shows the most, uh, aptitude. That’s the right word, isn’t it? Gives everyone a chance to be equal, they say. Let the poor folk have the same opportunity as the lords. People line up out the door of the university and down the hill during admission week. Best business we ever have. They come and drink when they get accepted or come and drink when they don’t.”
A shout came from across the room demanding more ale and the barmaid scampered off.
“The Coalition pays for schooling. Why do they do it?” Amelie wondered.
“Maybe it keeps the people happy?” Ben guessed. “If even the poorest know they’ve got a chance to learn the same things the lords do, I think they’d like that.”
“What’s a pig farmer going to do with knowledge of ancient languages or art?”
Ben shrugged. “Saala told me there were two ways a lord could stay in power.”
Amelie sipped at her ale and waited for him to continue.
Ben took a sip as well then sat it down, pleasantly surprised it wasn’t the watered-down hog piss he’d expect in a roadside tavern. He continued, “A lord can do good things for his people. He can build roads, supply irrigation, and protect them from robbers or invaders. If the people see the lord doing these things, they’ll peacefully pay their taxes and leave the lord alone in his big keep atop the hill. A shorter way to power, according to Saala, is fear. The lord can scare the people into thinking the only way to survive is to have his protection. That gives the lord the pretext to raise an army, increase taxes, and become so powerful, no one can oppose him.” Ben paused to drink more ale. “Maybe the Coalition is trying the first way. Giving people some hope.”
Amelie frowned. “I’ll admit I know embarrassingly little of the Coalition. Lord Jason stayed in Issen for months and never mentioned these things. If they were so altruistic, I’m sure he would have told my father. He focused on the second set of things you said. He spoke about the strength of their military and the threat Argren represented to Alcott.”
“The carrot and the stick,” mused Ben. “Maybe they’re trying to do both.”
Amelie sat back in thought.
Ben left her alone for a bit and surveyed the room. The young people clustered together in small groups that constantly shifted. They laughed heartily and drank heavily. The boys were obviously interested in the girls, but the girls paid them no mind. Occasionally, one of the boys grew bold enough or drunk enough to brave the approach. The boy would timidly shuffle up to the girls and try to insinuate himself into their circle. Sometimes, they would shift and seem to innocently block him with their backs turned, or sometimes the boy would make it in. Then it usually ended in tinkling laughter that sent the boy fleeing red-faced back to his companions.
Ben grinned. “These guys are having no luck at all. I wonder how long it will take them to realize the girls aren’t here to talk to them?”
Amelie leaned across the table. “If the girls don’t want to talk to the boys, why do you think they came to the tavern tonight?”
Ben frowned. “They’re not being very accommodating.”
“Fortune favors the bold,” answered Amelie with a wink. “If these little boys recognized the signals the girls were sending, then they’d charge in there and they’d get all of the attention they want. Sometimes a girl is just waiting for the boy to become a man and to act.”
Ben grunted.
The barmaid materialized with heavy dishes containing the meat pies and beans. “Let me know when you want your second ale,” she advised.
Ben nodded. The pies were hot, the crust was flaky, and the gravy inside rich with flavor. Ben was glad they’d elected to come to the tavern. The thought of rice, beans, and ham again was almost too much to take.
They scarfed down the pies. Ben was feeling full and content. For a brief moment, the worry about the Sanctuary, the Coalition, and how they were going to find the Purple in Irrefort faded into the background. He sat in silence with Amelie. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that comes from knowing that you can say anything you want to the other person, or you can say nothing at all.
They watched the young people and sipped their ale. Eventually, a tall, dark-haired young man strode up to the girls. Ben noticed immediately he wasn’t timid about it. The boy slipped into the girl’s circle before they had time to block him. When the girls laughed at him, he laughed as well. He told a joke, gesturing wildly, and the girls were laughing with him. Before long, a curly-haired blond girl placed a hand on his arm. It was like a spell broke. The girl’s circle opened. Two more boys flung themselves into the breach.
“Confidence,” remarked Amelie.
Ben raised an eyebrow at her.
“He was sure of himself and knew what he wanted. Girls can sense that, they respond to it. You should try it sometime.”
Ben blinked.
Amelie finished her ale. “I recommend we leave at first light tomorrow. We sold enough today to look respectable. No one would expect a peddler to stick around too long.”
“Agreed,” said Ben. He turned his ale up then gestured for the barmaid to bring two more. He’d take those to the tinkers outside.
When they crossed the green to the wagons, Ben saw the tinker’s fire was smoldering embers. Their wagon was closed tight.
“Do you think they went to sleep already?” he asked Amelie.
She shrugged. “Maybe they got a better offer.”
Ben left the ales on the back of the wagon but didn’t knock on the door. No lights were on inside. If they were asleep, he didn’t want to bother them. It wasn’t Ben’s fault the man hadn’t waited up to enjoy his ales.
At their wagon, Ben gestured for Amelie to go ahead of him. “Ladies first.”
She smirked at him. “I’m not sure I count as a lady anymore.”
Ben grinned at her. She ducked inside. He put a foot on the step to follow when he heard a jingle behind him. Ben turned and his heart sank. Standing in the dim light was a familiar figure flanked by three soldiers and a liveried man with an iron cudgel on his belt.
“You eluded me longer than I expected,” remarked the leader.
“Lord James,” Ben acknowledged.
“Indeed,” preened the lord. “I’m very curious to learn why you helped me back on the road, spy. Did you target me? What did you hope to gain?”
The moon and the lights from the buildings circling the green provided Ben enough visibility to see James and his men had not drawn their blades. That might be helpful if he had his sword. It was tucked inside the wagon. Real peddlers didn’t carry mage-wrought blades into taverns.
“Ben,” called Amelie from behind him.
Ben turned just in time to catch his longsword. Amelie jumped down from the wagon to stand beside him, the rapier she’d found in Samuel’s cellar in one hand and the dagger he’d given them in the other.
“Try to take them alive,” instructed James to his men.
The lord swept out
his own rapier and the soldiers drew broadswords. Ian, the footman, slung his iron cudgel off his belt.
“Ben, you know—” started Amelie.
“I know,” he replied.
James thought they were spies. They’d be hung for that. If he learned the truth though, it would be even worse. Lord Jason had personally come for Amelie at the Sanctuary. With a bounty like that, Lord James would never let them out of his sight. He’d have an entire garrison guarding them. There would be no chance of escape. They’d be lucky if Jason just killed them instead of torturing them for days first.
“Can you do something?” suggested Ben.
A sharp pop and whoosh of flame erupted from the tinker’s fire.
The soldiers were startled at the unexpected noise behind them. Ben wasn’t. He surged forward, heading directly at Ian. The footman didn’t have a chance. Ben’s blade plunged into his chest.
“Not so easy when your men aren’t holding someone down,” muttered Ben. He felt a flash of satisfaction at avenging Jolly Jon’s torture.
The remaining soldiers were circling around him. A whirling sound of gale force wind was building in the back of Ben’s head, but he wouldn’t be able to use it effectively. The men were too scattered for him to catch them all and he worried it may draw more attention than they already had. They couldn’t fight the entire city watch.
Ben dodged the sharp tip of a broadsword that came uncomfortably close to his neck. He shuffled to the side and the three men followed, keeping him surrounded.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Lord James launch a probing attack at Amelie. She parried it with her rapier.
“So you do know how to use that blade,” cackled the lord. “Good. That will make this more fun.”
Amelie lunged forward, thrusting her sword at James’ eye. He caught it on the side of his blade and then stepped forward, coming inside her guard. He reached out to grab her but she swiped at his hand with her dagger.
The lord yelped and staggered back, glancing at his hand, clearly shocked a girl was able to mark him. Shadows seemed to crawl up his arm from the wound, but in the dim light, Ben thought it was just his imagination.
Ben spun in a quick circle, keeping his opponents at a distance. The three soldiers around him were moving cautiously, obviously nervous after he so easily dispatched the footman. Three against one though, Ben knew eventually they’d strike. He couldn’t defend against all three if they coordinated their attack.