A Cast of Stones

by Patrick W. Carr

  Errol tucked it out of sight as quickly as his hands could move. “I need to see Ru.”

  Skorik nodded. “Yes,” he said as he turned away. “I imagine you do.”

  He found the caravan master conversing in hushed tones with Rokha by the lead wagon. At Errol’s approach, they cut their conversation short. Ru’s stare was hard and challenging while Rokha’s eyebrows simply lifted to convey her curiosity. Errol moved his staff from his hands to the crook of his elbow, hoping Ru would take it as a sign of deference.

  He reached into his cloak and pulled out a double handful of lots, held them where they could see them. “I still don’t know who sent the attack, but they’re not going to try again for at least a week.”

  The caravan master gave him a look made all of ice. “I trusted you the first time. I’m not in the habit of trusting anyone twice without proof.”

  “I’m not trying to mislead you.” He grabbed the two lots that represented an attack coming the next day. “I’ll prove it.” The dust at his feet would serve his purpose. He bent to run one finger in the dirt, then straightened and smudged the lot for no attack. “Here.” He thrust the lots toward them and took two steps back with his hands in the air. “Test it.”

  Rokha reached in front of Ru, taking the lots while her father kept his hands to his sides. “Did you not teach me to take advantage of any weapon that comes to hand, Father?”

  Ru nodded. “This one may turn on its bearer, Rokha.”

  “All weapons are dangerous for the novice,” she said.

  The caravan master snorted. “You just described us.”

  She removed her cloak, pulled up the corners to make a crude sack, and dropped the lots inside.

  With a sigh of resignation, her father reached inside and drew.

  The smudged lot lay in his hand.

  Seven times Naaman Ru drew before the other lot came out. The muscles in his jaws finally relaxed and the look he now gave seemed more speculative. Errol sensed an opportunity to gain Ru’s trust. He pulled the rest of the lots he’d made from his cloak. “We have at least a week before the next attack. I made a pair of lots for each of the next seven days.”

  Ru shook his head, his look disbelieving. “You did what?”

  Rokha laughed. “Would a spy admit to anything like that, Father?”

  Errol didn’t know what to make of their sudden change in mood. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d come to Ru to tell him of the lots, but Rokha’s laughter and Ru’s unbelief took him off guard.

  “Did no one in your village teach you the rudiments of logic, boy? A smith, perhaps? Or maybe a carpenter?” Ru asked with a smile.

  Their amusement cut him. “In my village boys become apprenticed in their fourteenth year. By the time my fifteenth naming day came round I was already in the ale barrel. I don’t even know if anyone asked to take me on. I’m pretty sure I was drunk at the time.”

  “Casting for every day took unnecessary effort and time,” Rokha said. “After the first cast, you could have asked if we were going to be attacked in the next three days, then the next five, and so on.”

  Errol nodded in chagrin. He’d used at least twice as many lots as needed.

  Ru’s grin faded into thoughtfulness. “He’s a little old to be an apprentice.”

  Rokha looked at Errol with a smile that turned his knees to water. “I think he’ll prove to be a quick study, Father.”

  “Possibly,” the caravan master said. “And of course he has . . . talent that any merchant would find useful. Since there doesn’t seem to be any threat of an imminent attack on the wagons, we’ll stay here and move out at first light. Errol, when we travel, you will ride with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to teach you the basics of trade.” Ru smiled, his eyes bright. “With my instruction and your ability, we’ll make a fortune.”

  Errol gaped. “You want me to cast lots to make money?”

  Ru’s smile faded and he grew very still. “You object?”

  He wanted to say yes, but the deaths of Norad and Jesper mocked him. The two guards died because he’d signed on with Ru. The right thing for him to do was to leave the caravan immediately, but the thought of the ferral unnerved him. Half-human things hunted him, and Errol desperately did not want to be alone. He swallowed.

  “No. I don’t object.” Inside his head a small voice called him a coward.

  The next day, as the caravan rolled west, Errol tied Midnight to the front wagon and climbed onto the seat to sit next to Ru. The man greeted him with a smile and a nod.

  “Tell me, Errol. Why am I hauling animal skins?”

  Errol shrugged. “To make money?”

  “Correct,” Ru said. “You see, we’re off to a good start already. Of course the goal of any merchant or tradesman is to make a profit. Essentially, you have to be able to sell your goods for more than you paid for them, but along with that you have to pay your expenses as well.”

  For hours, Naaman Ru instructed Errol in the art of commerce, and he proved to be as stern a taskmaster in this subject as Rale had been with the staff. After each topic, he questioned Errol closely, changing the nature of his queries to ensure that his young apprentice fully understood. Any time Errol simply parroted back what Ru said, he forced him to say it in his own words and the questioning would begin again. By the time Errol’s lessons finished, his head hurt with the effort of trying to remember everything the caravan master had taught him.

  They repeated the process the next day and the day after. Errol proved to be a quick study. The considerable time he’d spent in taverns became an unexpected asset. The countless conversations he’d overheard in the last five years yielded insights against the backdrop of Ru’s knowledge. As the caravan approached Dronfeld—a trade city built on nine hills and surrounded by some of the richest farmland in the kingdom—Ru wore the confident look of a man who knew he couldn’t lose.

  “Now, Errol, I think you understand the ideas of trade fairly well. When we get into the city, I’m going to take you with me as one of my bodyguards. It’s expected, since we’ll be carrying a substantial amount of money once we sell our skins. As part of my protection you’ll meet the representatives of the five houses that control the business interests in Dronfeld. Later you’ll help me choose which house to sell to.”

  The accusation in Errol’s head refused to go away. He sighed. “What is it you want me to do?”

  Ru chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “I want you to attend me and commit the representative of each house to memory. I’ll tell each one we need to consider their offer. Then you’ll cast lots and tell me which one will give me the highest price for my cargo.”

  Errol frowned. Ru had earlier said the price of a cargo would vary little from house to house, often only by a few pennies per skin. He mentioned this to the caravan master.

  “Very good, my boy. You have been paying attention. But consider this—a few pennies per skin on every trip will compound over time. With enough transactions, I’ll be one of the richest caravans inside of a year.”

  “From just a few pennies?” Errol asked.

  Ru nodded. “I think we need to include a study of quantities in your education, Errol. You’d be amazed at what a few pennies per skin compounded over time will do.”

  Ru brought his caravan to a halt at the staging point east of the city—the only spot within a league that resembled level ground—and with Rokha and Errol in tow, went forth to do battle. The merchant quarters and their attached warehouses stood like monoliths on the river, blocky and intimidating. Each was run by a mix of outlanders and natives. Ru smiled and his eyes glittered as they dismounted their horses in front of the warehouse belonging to the Stelton enterprise.

  As they entered the stone edifice, Ru schooled his features to solemnity and leaned over to whisper his instructions. “Pay close attention, Errol. When I meet with their factor, you and Rokha will be responsible for committing every detail to memory.”
He moved closer until Errol could see the master’s excited pulse in his neck. Ru’s voice became stern. “Above all, say nothing.”

  Ru turned and led the way into the offices of his first opponent. Before Errol’s eyes could adjust to the change in light, a thin man not much older than Errol presented himself to Ru with a slight bow.

  “Greetings, caravan master. My name is Ambra. How may I assist you?”

  Ru gave a polite smile and turned to survey the rich ornamentations that decorated the office. He bowed in turn, deeper than Ambra. “My name is Naaman Ru. I’ve just come from Longhollow loaded with skins. I’m looking for the best price so that I can purchase some of your fabled grain for the next leg of my route.”

  “Skins?” Ambra asked. His face twisted as though Ru had somehow earned his sympathy. “I will tell the factor you are here.” He turned and left, his face locked in that same expression.

  Ru shifted until only Rokha and Errol could see his face. His expression never changed but he chortled under his breath. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Oh, it’s going to be a good day.”

  Errol inhaled to ask him any of a dozen questions that sprang to mind, but before he could open his mouth a large pot-bellied man with the florid coloring and the harsh accent of an Einlander approached them. “Greetings.” His voice boomed and echoed from the white stone interior. “I am Kedar Willam, the factor for Stelton House. How may I serve you?”

  Ru bowed again, even more deeply this time, and spread his hands. “I have skins to sell, worthy Kedar, of the finest quality.”

  “Ah,” Kedar said. “So my assistant, Ambra, told me. I had hoped he was mistaken. Such a cargo is usually in great demand in the northern provinces.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But the winter this past year was milder than expected. The market is somewhat depressed, I’m afraid.”

  Errol blinked. Milder? He’d heard the merchants in Callowford say spring had been late in coming to the north—very late. He inhaled. Ru needed to know Kedar was either misinformed or trying to cheat him.

  A weight on his foot turned his words into a gasp of pain. When Ru and the factor looked in his direction, Rokha slapped him across the face.

  “I told you never to touch me again,” she said. “Don’t think you can get away with it just because there are others about.”

  Errol’s face flushed. Kedar’s roar of laughter filled the space until its echoes sounded as though a chorus of factors laughed at Errol’s embarrassment.

  Stelton’s factor wiped tears from his eyes as he turned back to Ru. “Worthy master, I can see you have enough trouble without trying to negotiate a price for skins that won’t sell. To help you out I will pay you last year’s price for your cargo.”

  Ru donned a look of gratitude. “That is most kind, Kedar. I will take your offer under consideration.” He gave Rokha and Errol a look made of daggers. “Right now I must return to my caravan. I’m afraid my choice in personnel this morning was misguided. I require a change of guards.”

  A brief spasm of desperation crossed Kedar’s face. “I would hate for you to make a second trip, worthy master. Why not conclude our business before you attend to your guards.”

  The caravan master nodded. “You are most gracious, Kedar, but I’m afraid I have no choice in the matter.” He stepped closer to the factor, and his voice dropped. “The girl is my daughter. Much as it pains me to put family before business, it must be done. She keeps the ledger.”

  Defeat wreathed itself across Kedar’s features, and he bowed. “As you say. My offer will stand. Please allow Stelton House the honor of serving you tomorrow.”

  Ru nodded and then led them back into the daylight. Once their horses were well away from the enormous warehouse and its offices, he cackled with delight. “Oh, my daughter, that was very well done. In one stroke you gave me the perfect exit from Stelton House.

  “And you,” he said to Errol, “need to listen carefully to instruction.”

  “But Kedar’s trying to cheat you,” Errol said. “Spring came late to the north this last winter.”

  Ru nodded. “Yes, I know. I’d heard a rumor of such back in Longhollow—which is why I bought skins.”

  Errol shook his head, confused. “You don’t care that Kedar is trying to cheat you?”

  “Care? Of course I care,” Ru said. “I did everything in my power to encourage it.” He laughed at Errol’s confusion. “Ah, my boy, you have so much to learn. The easiest way to get the best price out of someone is to let them think they can take advantage of you. Take two men, pit their greed and desire to win against one another, and you’ll see them pay more for an object than it’s worth simply because they can’t stand the thought of losing.”

  Ru leaned across his saddle to give Rokha a hug. “That was brilliant. In fact, I think we should use that at each of the houses. By the time I return tomorrow, the five of them will be ready to kill each other to buy our cargo.”

  He turned to Errol. “Do you think you can repeat your performance, Errol?”

  He nodded, but inside he was still trying to make sense of Ru’s strategy.

  “It’s got to be natural,” Ru said. “If the factor suspects that he’s being tricked, he won’t bid on the skins. No man takes kindly to being manipulated.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Ru nodded. Though he’d seemed happy before, now he seemed positively giddy.

  They arrived at the next warehouse on the river. Its walls were constructed of stone as well, but where Stelton House gleamed a bright white, the walls of Harrida House were a light gray.

  They dismounted, and Errol repeated every motion and gesture down to the intake of breath and the gasp. He found his part easy to play. Rokha seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in stomping his foot. He considered standing on her other side to keep her from breaking his toes.

  After Harrida House, they visited the warehouses belonging to Weir, Davila, and Corloni. Each house repeated some variation of Stelton’s excuse as to why they could not give Ru the price his goods deserved, and each factor suffered the dismay of losing a merchant with much-needed cargo.

  Naaman clapped Errol on the shoulder as they rode back east of the city to the staging ground. “Perfection, my boy, absolute perfection. It appeared you were in genuine pain every time.”

  Errol shot Rokha a hard look. “I was.”

  “Really?” Ru said with a lift of eyebrows. Then he smiled. “Well done, daughter. I’m glad you left nothing to chance. Now, here’s how we’re going to make the houses of Dronfeld pay. I want you to craft lots, my boy, that will tell us who is going to give us the best price for our cargo and—” he laughed, rubbing his hands together—“who is going to give us the second-best price.”

  Rokha tossed her dark hair with glee.

  “I don’t understand. Why do you want to know which house will give you the second-best price?” Errol asked.

  Ru snickered. “I think it’s only fair to let them have first shot at selling us the cargo for the outbound trip. They’ll cut the price so deep after losing out on our skins, none of the other houses will come close.”

  Back at camp, Errol sat cross-legged in a secluded spot with a dozen blocks of pine and Norad’s carving knife nestled in his lap. He cleared his mind and pictured the factor at Stelton House. Kedar’s florid face rose in his mind’s eye along with his expression of desperate greed. Errol let every detail of the man and his business wash over him. It didn’t take long. His habit of cataloging faces in his search for his parents proved useful. He opened his eyes and drew the small knife toward him, watching as a fine curl dropped to his lap.

  Two hours later ten wooden balls and a pile of fragrant pine shavings rested where the blocks of wood had lain. He smiled in satisfaction. A couple of weeks ago it would have taken him more than twice as long to carve that many. Luis was still faster by far, and Errol didn’t have a clue how to work in stone, but the carving knife felt like a part of him now.

  Ru’s enthusia
sm burned as bright as ever when Errol told him the lots were ready for drawing. The caravan master summoned his daughter, and the three of them crowded into the wagon that the caravan master used for traveling quarters. Rokha took the first five lots and mixed them together. Somewhere in the camp or during their visit to the city, she’d managed to procure a proper cloth bag. The royal blue matched her vest. Errol thought it set off her dark eyes and hair to good advantage. As she shook the bag, she glanced in his direction and, seeing him eyeing her, tilted her head back and smiled with a hint of challenge.

  Ru turned away and thrust his hand into the bag. “Let’s see who we’ll be doing business with tomorrow.” The sphere he withdrew looked no different than the rest. “Well, my boy, who’s it to be?”

  Errol took the lot and held it up to the light of the lantern, turning it until the name came into view. “Stelton House.”

  “I thought as much,” Ru said, nodding. “Kedar looked almost desperate when we left. Stelton House probably has a contract for skins they need to fill.” His grin became vicious. “I’m sure we can help them on that account.”

  Ru replaced the lot and drew another dozen times just to make sure. Stelton House came out all but twice. The next set of lots went into the bag. Rokha drew this time. Davila House would offer the second-best price.

  Ru beamed at him. “My boy, if everything works out tomorrow the way I think it will, you’ve earned yourself a bonus. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Rokha and I have plans to make.”