Trading Close To Light

by C. M. Simpson

  “I’m sorry, ma’am—” he began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “I’m no ma’am, lad. I work for a living. Always have, always will. What’s yer name?”

  “Gustav, ma…er… What do I call you?”

  Marsh hadn’t seen Gustav blush so deeply before or be that lost for words, but he was doing both now.

  “Greta, or Master Greta, if you prefer.”

  Marsh remembered how her friends had arrived at a run to see how Roeglin was faring.

  Honestly, I could do without the fuss, he told her, Gustav was still staring at the smith.

  “What?” she demanded. “You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a rearick before.”

  Gustav shook his head as though trying to clear it.

  “I’ve seen plenty,” he said. “Just never expected to see one here.”

  Greta stilled.

  “Plenty, you say.”

  Gustav gestured toward Roeglin.

  “You’ve a good hand with battle wounds. Not usually what I’d expect from a smith.”

  Greta’s face reddened.

  “We all have our pasts—and some of us don’t care to remember.”

  “No,” Gustav agreed, and Marsh noticed he was rubbing his left forearm with his right. “Some of us don’t.”

  Marsh remembered he’d been chosen for the role of teaching the Protector trainees combat tactics because he’d had experience. She wondered where. Looking at the pair eyeing each other, she started to wonder if they’d even fought on the same side and what the war had been over. Whatever it had been about, it had left its mark.

  After a couple of seconds of silent staring, Greta and Gustav turned to Roeglin. He glanced nervously at Marsh, and she gave him a feral grin.

  “I can’t save you,” she said, and both blacksmith and emissary shot her a glare.

  Marsh shrugged.

  “Just callin’ it how it is,” she said, and they turned back to the mage.

  “Take a couple of weeks before he’s any good for traveling,” Gustav said, examining the wound again.

  He straightened, turning away to run one hand through his short-cropped hair. What he might have said next was lost when Piet groaned. Both turned to him, but Dominique was already at his side.

  “Hey, son. How are you doing?”

  Piet’s eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on his father.

  “Pa?” but he stiffened with alarm, his gaze shifting beyond his father to search the room as he struggled to get up.

  “Easy, son. Shadow mages took care of them. Greta’s all right, too.” Dominique placed his hand on the boy’s chest pushing him back down. “Just lie there for a bit. Let Greta take a look at you.”

  Marsh flicked her gaze around the room as the boy subsided, and Greta and Gustav closed in to look at the wound. Marsh didn’t relax until she’d searched the corners for the glow of a life force and asked the shadows to reveal anyone who might be hidden. Only when she was sure the raiders were truly gone did she start to settle.

  Over to one side, Roeglin stirred.

  “Can’t stay in bed,” he said. “We’ve got a meeting to get to.”

  Marsh glanced at Gustav, but the emissary was talking to Dominique.

  “You want us to help you get him home?” he asked, but the tailor shook his head.

  “We need to get back to work; make sure you look your best when you face the council.”

  “Boy needs at least a day of rest,” Greta told Dominique. “No needlework, no running errands, and nothing in between, either.”

  The tailor frowned, clearly reluctant to leave his son alone.

  “He can stay upstairs at the station,” Gustav told him. “That way you can keep an eye on him.”

  “And I’ll come over and check up on him,” Greta added.

  She frowned.

  “What did you send him over for anyway?”

  “These fine folks need armor repaired or replaced.”

  “They do, do they?” Greta glanced over at Marsh. “Way they fight, I’m not surprised.”

  Marsh’s eyes widened but the blacksmith kept on, her gaze drifting to Roeglin.

  “What happened to his? You have to cut it off him when he got hurt the last time?”

  “That’s what happened to mine,” Marsh said before Roeglin could respond.

  The smith snorted.

  “Figures.”

  “Hey!” Gustav held up his hand and Marsh shuddered to silence.

  “Do you have time?” he asked. “It was a hard journey, and we cleaned the raiders out of Mid-Point and the shadow monsters off the trade route, but it wasn’t without damage.”

  The smith turned to survey the group, running a practiced eye over those still wearing armor and then measuring Marsh and Roeglin with a glance.

  “I’ve got the leather, but it’ll take a couple of weeks.”

  Gustav shrugged.

  “We need the gear.”

  He eyed one of the shields hanging on the wall and indicated a set of thigh coverings on display in the window.

  “And it’ll be worth the wait.”

  The smith blushed.

  “I’m sorry it will take so long. If you have anyone who can…” She let the words hang, and Marsh was surprised to see Gustav color.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I can do a little,” he said. “I’m no armorer, mind you.”

  Greta’s gaze sharpened.

  “Can ye do basic repairs?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then you’ll do, and any of yer men up to the same. I’ll check for quality, and I’ll cut the price for the help.”

  “Piet will help too,” Dominique broke in. He colored when the pair turned toward him. “It will do the boy good to understand how armor is made…and how it sits. I’ll trade the experience for his help.”

  Greta smiled.

  “That’s a good offer, tailor, but he won’t be up to stitching for a few days at best. I’ll let him watch if he can get down here.”

  “I’ll bring him,” Gustav told them. “Do the boy good to walk a bit.”

  Greta was about to comment on that when they heard footsteps outside the door. Light and fast and on their own, Marsh was sure she knew who it might be before the messenger arrived. It was a different girl this time, and she scanned the group before her gaze settled on Gustav.

  Once she’d found him, she acknowledged the smith with a brief nod before moving to stand before the emissary.

  “The Kerrenin’s Ledge Council greets you and apologizes for the short notice. The latest attack has lent urgency to your request. Your presence is now required at first light at the council chambers. An escort will be sent a half-turn beforehand. Please be ready to leave on their arrival. Confirm.”

  The way she rattled it off told Marsh the message had been delivered exactly as given.

  Gustav stared at the girl, his gray eyes dark with thought. She waited, blue eyes unblinking as she watched his face. When he spoke, Marsh swore she could see the girl’s mind filing each word and nuance as he spoke.

  “Ruins Hall Emissary to Kerrenin’s Ledge Council: Confirmed. Please accept our assistance in today’s defense as an example of the further assistance an alliance will provide. We appreciate your hospitality.” His gaze shifted and he caught the messenger’s eye. “Repeat!”

  The messenger obliged, her voice mimicking Gustav’s every tone and nuance with accuracy.

  “Very good,” he said when she’d finished. “Is there anything else?”

  The girl blinked and then shook her head.

  “No. Thank you. I will convey your reply now.”

  She did not wait for a response but turned and trotted for the door. The sound of more footsteps came before she could reach it and the doorway darkened with a familiar shape.

  “Captain Brodeur,” Gustav began, but the smith cut him off, gesturing for the captain to come into the store.

  “To what do we owe the
honor?” she asked, making it sound like she knew exactly what they owed the honor to, as well as making it clear that the honor was a dubious one at best.

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Greta,” the captain said, stepping aside so that the messenger could pass.

  She hesitated at the door, and the sound of people shuffling aside explained her momentary stillness. It didn’t last long, however, and she soon darted out of the store and into the street beyond. When she was gone, Brodeur led a small squad of Kerrenin’s Ledge Guard into the store, causing Gustav’s men to move closer to the emissary and making the space seem small.

  “So many,” Greta said, her voice full of disapproval, “and all of them too late to be of any use.”

  Her words made several of them frown in disapproval, but Brodeur’s lips only tightened in a smile.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t listen,” he said, his eyes flickering briefly to the sergeant standing with the Guard. “Next time we’ll pay more attention.”

  Greta raised her brows.

  “So ye’re admitting that there will be a next time?”

  Brodeur nodded.

  “Yes.” He reached into a pocket, pulling out a length of painted charcoal and a pad of shroom paper. “Do you have time to make a report?”

  “A complaint, you mean?” Greta snapped, and her gaze flicked over those assembled.

  She turned to her son.

  “Take these gentlemen to the kitchen, Sam, and make sure they stay to drink their kaffee.”

  “Oh, I…” Brodeur began, but Greta held up a hand.

  “I’ll not have them cluttering up the store.” She glanced at Gustav and Dominique. “This could take a while. Why don’t you move your wounded upstairs? There’s a spare room at the top of the stairs to the right. Once they’re settled, the rest of your men could join the Guard in the kitchen. I’m sure I have enough kaffee to go round.”

  “Thank you, Master Smith,” Gustav said, taking her suggestion as the instruction it was intended to be.

  He looked at his men.

  “You heard the lady, Roeglin. Time you got off your lazy ass. Marsh, help Piet and Dominique.”

  They did as he asked, Roeglin not even protesting the insult.

  I’ll deal with it later, the mage promised, but his voice sounded tired. Marsh doubted he’d be dealing with anything until at least the next day. You’d be surprised.

  “Yeah, I would,” Marsh told him, helping Dominique get Piet to his feet.

  By the time they’d been upstairs and back, Greta was well into her report. Marsh let the guards troop into the kitchen, but she positioned herself beside Gustav as the smith finished her tale.

  “If it hadn’t been for these folks,” the woman said, “I’d have lost my son and been forced to go with them. They got here just in time.”

  Marsh felt her face color and bit her lip to stop herself from protesting that they hadn’t done anything important. Captain Brodeur looked from the smith to Gustav and Marsh. Marsh shrugged.

  “We promised Dominique we’d make sure Piet was safe.”

  “We, as in you and the shadow mage?” the captain clarified. “Since the rest of your group were on the wall defending the town.”

  It was probably not meant to be a criticism, but it felt like it all the same. Fortunately, Gustav intervened.

  “I ordered it,” he said. “We’re a diplomatic mission, but we have other tasks as well, and the tailor and armorer are vital to their success.”

  He indicated the bodies stacked beside the wall.

  “It turned out for the best, and the smith is an asset for more than just us. Tell me, where are her assistants? I’d have thought there’d have been some in training to ensure the Guard’s needs were met…”

  He let the comment hang, and it was the captain’s turn to color. He cleared his throat before replying.

  “It is a point I’ve raised with the council,” he admitted. “I’ll be raising it again…if the Master Smith is agreeable.”

  Again, her eyebrows lifted.

  “To help you train a dedicated smith and armorer for your force? What about my trade?”

  “You won’t be able to keep up with a full-strength force. That kind of work takes more than one.”

  “I could expand my business,” Greta pointed out. “Go into partnership. Being invested would be an incentive for quality.”

  “Are you saying a Guard smith wouldn’t be invested?”

  “Would he be getting paid the same as you’d pay an outside crafter?”

  From the increasing color in Brodeur’s face, a Guard smith would not.

  “He’d be getting paid for his services,” the captain said, “and he’d be limited to working for the Guards, guaranteeing availability when required.”

  Greta shrugged.

  “I can give you that same availability,” she pointed out, but Brodeur’s reply was just as swift.

  “For a fee,” he countered, and the smith smiled.

  “That’s business.”

  “For a mercenary.”

  Greta’s smile vanished.

  “Loyalty in return for loyalty,” she snapped back. “I’ve shown mine.”

  The captain drew a sharp breath and then closed his mouth, letting the implication that the town lacked loyalty stand.

  “Point taken,” he said. “I will raise your security with the council.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer, then the captain slid charcoal and notepad back into his pocket. He looked over at Gustav.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “A half-turn before first light.”

  Gustav nodded.

  “We’ll be ready.”

  “I believe your men have finished their kaffee,” Greta told the captain, and Brodeur walked to the kitchen door.

  From the speed at which his men appeared after he looked through the door, they’d either not drunk any kaffee or they’d finished it long ago—and they’d definitely been listening in. Ignoring this last, the captain nodded toward Greta and led the squad out into the street. Marsh, Greta, and Gustav watched them go, and then Greta turned to the emissary.

  “I’m not sayin’ you’ve outstayed ye’re welcome,” she said, “but ‘twould be best if ye got yer men back to the station.”

  She paused.

  “First though, we’re going ta need yer measurements.”

  13

  The Kerrenin’s Ledge Council

  They were up early the next morning, given that the council meeting had been moved forward from mid- to early morning—and the traders who’d helped defend the town’s walls were invited, too. Although the tailor had worked through the evening and late into the night, the new outfits weren’t ready, so the Ruins Hall representatives were wearing the altered garments.

  Marsh didn’t understand why Gustav was disappointed. The new clothes were more than fine, and they outshone what the merchants were wearing by a noticeable degree. She hadn’t been at all surprised when Gage had asked for Master Calais’ services when next the man was free.

  Looking around the room, she noted that several of the gathered councilors were wearing clothes of similar quality, and she wondered how many of them had bought from Dominique. Surveying the seven men and woman seated at the long table at the front of the meeting room, she concentrated on not fidgeting as she waited for them to speak.

  Instead of being shown to seats, she and the rest of those summoned to the meeting had been set into groups of petitioners, each of which had to approach the table and explain their presence. As Gustav advanced, the oldest of the council members looked down at him.

  “You wished to speak with us?”

  “We did.” If Gustav was surprised by the abruptness of the greeting, he did not show it. Nor did he make it easy for the councilor to maintain his superiority. After answering the man’s question, he waited.

  The councilor waited.

  Gustav continued to s
tand there and look expectantly at him.

  Marsh had to admire the man. If it had been her standing in front of the dais, she might have given in and started speaking straight away. Instead, Gustav stood silently, waiting for the council members to make the first move. In the end, it was the councilman who gave ground.

  “I am Gerard Dupont, head of the Kerrenin’s Ledge Council. For whom do you speak?”

  “I am Captain Gustav Moldrane, emissary and bodyguard to Monsieur Gravine, Founder of the Ruins Hall communities. I speak on his behalf.”

  “On what matters would the Ruins Hall Founder wish to speak?”

  “He wishes to speak to you regarding an alliance to secure the four settlements and to keep the trade between our towns alive.”

  The councilor regarded him for a long moment and then nodded.

  “We will be glad to speak with you on these matters.” He gestured to where a guardsman was waiting to one side. “If you would follow our guard.”

  Following the direction of his hand, Marsh looked over to where the guard was waiting and was surprised to see Captain Brodeur.

  “This way, please.”

  Gustav followed, and if this was not what he’d meant by having the captain attend the meeting to discuss the security implications of what he had to say, he didn’t show it. Behind them, the traders stepped forward. They too wanted to discuss a treaty, only this was between somewhere called Montmartre and Kerrenin’s Ledge.

  “It is to the northwest, several days’ journey on the surface.”

  And through the Deeps? Marsh wondered. How long is it, then?

  No one knows, Roeglin answered, keeping his face downturned so no one could see his eyes gleam white. Although the merchants are wondering.

  Marsh just bet they were. It would be interesting to see just how long it was before they asked for assistance in that regard—especially once they realized her team was responsible for restoring the Ruins Hall route. She listened as the council welcomed the traders and ordered them to be seated. After that, it was down to business, and they wasted no time in coming to the point.

  “What do you know of the raiders?” the head councilor asked, looking at Gustav.

  He shrugged.

  “Very little. They came out of the Deeps, attacking our trade routes and settlements and taking our people for reasons known only to themselves. By the time we realized what was happening, we’d lost the waystation at Leon’s Deep, as well as most of the farmers. If it hadn’t been for Shadow Mage Leclerc, we’d have had no warning at all.”