Pawn (The Pawn Series Book 1)

by Robin Roseau

  "Can we go somewhere else?" I asked quietly.

  "You don't like these?" she asked. She looked at the shopkeeper, who was watching us. "Could we see these two?"

  The shopkeeper pulled out the two knives. Juleena took the first and examined it critically before carefully handing it to me. "What do you think?"

  I wrapped my fingers around the handle and looked at the blade. It was thin with an unusual curve. There was the figure of some sort of animal etched into the blade. I wasn't sure the blade was a practical shape, and the grip didn't fit my hand well. I handed it back.

  "Maybe you'll like this one better," Juleena said, handing me the other knife.

  This one was even more beautiful and even less practical. I didn't care for it at all and handed it back nearly immediately.

  "You don't like either of them?"

  "I'm sorry. Maybe we could try another shop."

  "What's wrong with these?"

  "Nothing," I said quietly.

  "I thought we were friends, Yallameenara."

  "We are!" I lowered my eyes, unsure why she was suddenly angry with me.

  "Do the Arrlottan believe friends should lie to each other?"

  I didn't say a word.

  "Tell me the truth. You didn't like them. Why not?"

  "They aren't practical," I said. "They're like that dress we bought. I suppose if I need to wear that dress, I need a knife like this, too. But..."

  "So what do you want?"

  "Something with a good blade and a grip for my hand. Do we have to get one of these?"

  "Not at all. You couldn't wear it meeting the queen, anyway." She smiled and handed the knives back to the shopkeeper. "Maybe you prefer the knives in that case." She pointed.

  I glanced at the other case but then turned to look at Juleena, who was watching me. "Why did you make us look at these knives first?"

  "To see if you would judge a knife because it is pretty," and she gestured to the first case. "Or practical." And she pointed to the other case.

  And so I let her lead me to the second case on the opposite side of the shop. The shopkeeper moved to that side and waited patiently.

  These were much better. There was a similar variety to the other case, and there was some ornamentation on many of the knives, but nothing that would interfere with the basic purpose of the knife.

  I quickly rejected all the ones I judged to be too large. Then I pointed to one. Juleena nodded, but when she spoke to the shopkeeper, he withdrew the knife I had selected and two more. Then he paused and pulled out one more, saying something to Juleena I didn't quite catch.

  Juleena let me pick up the first knife. It felt good. The leather-wrapped handle fit my hand, and I didn't think it would slip when I used it, even when wet. The blade was a good length, straight until a gentle curve at the tip. I liked it.

  Juleena handed me the next knife. I didn't like this one. Both edges were sharp, and it felt dangerous. I immediately handed it back.

  "You don't like this one? It's a better knife."

  "It's dangerous. I'd cut myself using it."

  "I'll teach you to only cut the person you're fighting."

  My eyes opened widely. "Fighting?"

  "What else is a knife for?"

  "It's a tool," I said. "You use it for butchering an animal and cleaning the skin afterwards." I had to use a few Arrlottan words to say that. "You can cut rope or sharpen a stake." I grinned. "Or cut my hair."

  She laughed at that.

  "You will not be cutting your hair yourself anymore. And it is unlikely you will be butchering or skinning many animals." She looked at the knife in her hand. "Are you sure you don't want this one?"

  I nodded. I still liked the first one. She handed knives two and three back to the shopkeeper before accepting the fourth from him. She held it herself for a moment then handed it to me, handle first. I took it carefully.

  It fit my hand perfectly, although the blade was somewhat more ornate than the first. But I looked at the shape of the blade and realized it was every bit as functional as the first one.

  "Will using the knife hurt it?" I asked.

  The shopkeeper answered. "These knives are for using. Those knives are for looking pretty."

  I envisioned using it. Then I turned to Juleena. "It's a good knife," I said. "But I want the other one."

  "Why?"

  "This one is fancier. I bet that makes it more expensive."

  "If they cost the same, which would you want?"

  "But they don't cost the same, do they?"

  "If they did?"

  "This one."

  "Why?"

  "It fits my hand better."

  "All right," she said. "Buy it."

  "I don't have any money."

  "Bargain for it. Get me a good price."

  I turned to the shopkeeper. He'd been listening, of course, and he put the two knives I most liked side by side. He studied me then looked at Juleena. Then he looked back at me. He stuck out his hand. "I am Hondie."

  "Yallameenara," I said.

  "Yalla..." he trailed off.

  "Call me Yalla," I said. "I Arrlottan."

  "Ohhhh," he said slowly. "The horse people."

  "Yes."

  "And this is?" he said, looking at Juleena.

  I started to answer, but Juleena put her hand on my arm. "Her friend."

  "Ah," he said. "And so I should call you Friend-of-Yalla."

  "Quite so," she said.

  The shopkeeper turned back to me. But without a word, he ducked behind the counter, and when he emerged, he had two sheathes for the two knives. They were both leather and good sheathes besides. One was plain, in keeping with the plain knife. The other was somewhat fancier. He set each knife atop its appropriate sheath. Then he nudged the fancier knife forward.

  "Two hundred and fifty crowns," he said.

  Beside me, Juleena gave no indication of what she thought of that price. But I switched to Arrlottan. "How can I bargain? I don't know what things cost."

  She answered in Framaran. "You know what lunch cost. And were you paying attention when we bought your clothes?"

  "Yes. The leggings and tunic were forty crowns."

  "And what do you think the value of this knife is compared to your clothes?"

  "At home, we would not pay for clothes. We make them ourselves. And I don't know what a knife such as this would cost, but it is far more than I could ever have."

  "So the knife is worth more than the leggings and tunic."

  I thought about that. "I don't know."

  "Well, why don't you offer him what we paid for the clothes?"

  "Why are you making me do this?" I asked. "Let's just go."

  "It's important for you to learn, and to do this with confidence," she said. "You will have money, and you will need to know how to use it effectively to buy the things you need. Would you rather learn without me to help?"

  "But I don't know what anything is worth. Maybe this knife is only worth ten crowns."

  "Do you believe it is worth that amount?"

  "No. I think it's worth more. It's a good knife."

  "Yes, it is," she agreed. "Could you have made these clothes?"

  I looked down at what I was wearing. "No. I make clothes like you saw the other Arrlottans wearing."

  "All right. Plain and functional. Not that this is fancy," she said, gesturing to my clothes. "But if we had bought something that was plain like the Arrlottan clothing, it would have cost half what these cost. So, imagine you were going to make leggings and a tunic for this man and trade for the knife, how many leggings and tunic would you offer?"

  I thought about that and turned to the man. "Forty crowns."

  He smiled at me, and I thought he was amused by me and not by the price. He picked up the knife and began telling me how good a knife was. He talked about how it was made and how much work went into it. Then he gestured to the other knife. "If we were talking about this knife, then your offer is worth talking ab
out. But we are talking about this knife." He gestured to the fancier knife. "Perhaps you would prefer to talk about the other knife."

  Juleena didn't say a word. "Eighty crowns for this one."

  He nodded slightly. "Better. I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you buy this knife for eight crowns. I could sell you the plain knife for one hundred twenty. I could sell you this knife for one hundred and sixty."

  I picked up the plain knife, examining it carefully. Then I picked up the more ornate knife. I compared the two. Then I looked up at the shopkeeper. "Are knives made same?"

  "Yes," he said. Then he spoke quickly, but I didn't understand.

  "Sorry," I said. "Please say slow."

  He nodded. Then he reached over the counter and rapped the blade of one of the knives with his knuckles. "Same steel. Understand?" I nodded. "Same process." I looked to Juleena, and she translated the second word. I nodded. "Same quality," the shopkeeper said. Then he ran his finger over the engraving. "This different. Size different. Everything else is the same."

  I set both knives back on the counter. Then I pushed the ornate one aside and tapped the simple knife. It fit well enough and far better than anything I had ever owned. Beside me, Juleena said nothing. "One hundred crowns," I offered.

  The shopkeeper looked down at the knife then up at me. His eyes flicked to Juleena, but then he nodded. "One hundred crowns." He reached across the counter to clasp hands with me, but Juleena inserted her hand as a knife-edge between us. Both the shopkeeper and I turned to look at her.

  She swapped the two knives on the countertop and said, "One hundred twenty crowns." Then she spoke too rapidly for me to understand. Before she was done, she shifted the plain knife further away from me.

  The shopkeeper looked at me and said, "One hundred and fifty crowns." He pushed the knife marginally closer to me. I picked it back up again and examined it. Was a little decoration worth another half as much? It certainly wasn't to me, although Juleena clearly thought it was worth something. I ran my finger across the etching.

  "You make?"

  "My family makes everything here," he said. "My sister and her sons make some. My wife, my daughter, my sons." He glanced at the knife. "My youngest son made this knife, but my wife and daughter do the etching."

  I ran a finger across the delicate lines. "Is hard?"

  He shrugged. "Not hard, but it takes a steady hand and time." He paused. "Lots of time."

  "How much time?"

  "This knife? Three days, but my daughter cannot work all day. Her hands grow stiff from holding the tools. So she works here in the shop, too."

  "One hundred and thirty crowns."

  He took the knife back from me. Then he spent a minute or two explaining how the engraving was done. He showed me the fine detail. Finally he handed the knife back to me. "One hundred and forty and five."

  I looked over to Juleena. She was leaning sideways against the counter, watching me. We were fifteen crowns apart. I had no idea what fifteen crowns were worth. But I thought, if I had to make one more pair of leggings than I'd already agreed, would I do so?

  The leggings would eventually wear out. This knife, with any care at all, would last the rest of my life. I would never need another.

  I turned to the shopkeeper. "I need a sharpening stone. Do you have them?"

  He nodded, moved to a cabinet behind him. He returned carrying a small wooden box and a jar of oil. He opened the box briefly to show me the stone nestled inside. He set them on the counter.

  I pointed to the jar. "What is that?"

  "Oil. I'll show you." Again he turned away, and when he returned, he was carrying a plain knife. It looked well used. He opened the top of the box, exposing the stone, and I could see you could use the stone without taking it fully from the box. Then he poured a small amount of oil on the stone.

  "Oh," I said. "We... um." I made a spitting motion, although I didn't actually spit. The man smiled at me.

  "Oil is better," he said. He tapped the jar. "If you do not abuse the knife, this jar will last a long time. Several years, maybe longer." Then he showed me how to sharpen the knife, working efficiently and professionally. I'd never sharpened a steel knife before, but I'd seen my grandfather do it. He used a smaller stone and rubbed it against the blade, but this man held the knife at a very careful angle and moved it against the stone as if he was trying to cut slices from the stone. Then he turned the knife around and said, "You try."

  He had to correct my angle a few times, but then he nodded. "Good." He handed me a cloth for my hands.

  "One hundred and forty and five," I agreed.

  He held out his hand. I glanced at Juleena, and she nodded. And so the shopkeeper and I clasped, offering smiles.

  I couldn't stop smiling, the smile growing wider as Juleena helped me attach the sheath to my belt and we slipped the knife securely into the sheath.

  Once we were outside, Juleena turned me to her. "I'm proud of you."

  "Thank you for the knife," I said. I felt tears in my eyes. "Why are you buying these things for me? And why are you proud?"

  "I'm proud because you took the time to learn why the knife had value to Hondie. Did you see the pride in his eyes?"

  I nodded. "His wife and daughter do beautiful work."

  "The entire family does beautiful work," she said. "This is as good a knife as you'll find anywhere and better than most."

  "It's a better knife than my grandfather has," I said. I looked down at the knife hanging from her own belt. "And yours is plain. Why is mine fancy?"

  "Yours is not fancy. This is still considered a good, serviceable knife. The ones you rejected were the fancy ones."

  "They weren't very good."

  "They're constructed exceedingly well, but they serve another purpose."

  "A knife cuts. What other purpose is there?"

  "Status. Someone buys those knives to say 'I can waste money'."

  "Why would someone want to say that?"

  She laughed and ruffled my hair. "That's a very good question. If you discover the answer, please share it with me."

  "But why this knife. It cost more. Did you spend money to prove you can?"

  "I want you to think about it for a while. If you don't have the answer by morning, I'll answer during the ride."

  The next day, we left Wallarty.

  Capital

  The road from Wallarty was built of some sort of stone, but they were each the exact same size and fit together perfectly against each other. I didn't understand how the Framarans could make such a road. And at first I didn't understand why they would. I could tell immediately it would be harder on the horses, and I understood now why they were wearing shoes. The hard ground would be rough on them.

  But then I realized the wagons were rolling so much easier than they had, even on the firm ground of the steppes. We were able to travel much more quickly, and we had no more trouble with a broken wagon wheel.

  Much of our trip was through forest, but even more was between farms. At many, we saw people and animals toiling in the fields. It looked like hard work. At other farms, we saw herds of animals grazing in the grass. I didn't understand why the people would work so hard if they could simply leave the animals to graze like this. I imagined harvesting the animals this way was a whole lot easier than hunting the wild herds. By keeping them fenced in, they could only travel so far. You didn't even need to move your hut to follow the migrating herds.

  And that was when their permanent houses made sense. They didn't need to follow the herds. They kept the herds in one place.

  I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but it sure seemed easier than my old life.

  I didn't realize that we were drawing close to Marport. The changes at first were subtle. The farms grew closer together, and we spent less time traveling under the trees. I was more comfortable with that. The forest intimidated me, but the farms reminded me of the steppes, at least a little.

  The land was rolling, mostly with gentle hills, but
here and there were rough outcroppings of small, worn-down rocky mountains. And the birds changed, although I didn't realize it at the time.

  But then we came over a ridge, and everyone came to a stop. I stared.

  In the distance, I could see the ocean, the Balen Sea. That's what I stared at first. There was water as far as I could see, both left and right, and disappearing right over the edge of the world.

  "So much water."

  Beside me, Juleena said, "It's salty. You can't drink it."

  I turned to her. "Bad water?"

  "Not bad. The sea is filled with life." But then she pointed, and I could see a river, larger than any river I'd ever seen, traveling from the northwest. And that was when I realized I was staring at a town.

  I don't know how I didn't notice it first. It sat on the coast beside the sea, straddling the great river. And I couldn't imagine how so many people could live all in one place.

  "Welcome to Marport, Yallameenara," Juleena said. Then she raised her voice, calling out to our entire troop. "Welcome home, my friends!"

  They let out a mighty cheer. I sat my horse, in shock at the visions before me.

  * * * *

  The rest of the trip went by in a blur. My neck grew sore from all the looking around I did. Everything was so new and so unfamiliar.

  The road descended from the ridge we were on, and then the town began, houses and shops lining the road with lesser roads branching off to left and right. And everywhere there were people. We passed others traveling the opposite direction on their own horses, but we also passed a lot of people walking along the side of road on a raised platform of wood.

  Imagine! To make a permanent path out of wood, which on The Hippa was nearly as dear as metal.

  It took twenty minutes, but we reached some sort of stone wall, high above our heads. It looked old, the stones weathered, but I thought at the same time it was in good repair. There was a gate spanning the road with four armored guards talking to people before they were allowed entrance. A variety of people were lined up, waiting their turn to pass through the arch.

  A long, high wall, made of stone. That by itself was a marvel to me. The only walls I'd seen before this trip were the walls of our huts, constructed of cured animal skins. But I'd seen fences and barns and farm houses and now this tall, sturdy wall made all of stone. I wondered how they had made it, then I thought of all the people living in this town and I realized they would have the hands to do the work.