Why was she thinking about that?
She was almost relieved when a wiry gray-haired woman strode into the shop and immediately looked for Brauk, peered to the rear of the shop and saw he was busy, then stepped over and stopped in front of Shaunyce. “Brauk’s still trying to sell those bronze monstrosities, is he, girl?”
“Yes, Lady.”
“Mistress Caryon will do, thank you. I’m no lady. No airs for me. Is that jet-black pearl necklace still available?”
“It is, Mistress Caryon.”
“Leastwise, you listen. Still the same ridiculous price?”
“Merchanter Brauk has kept the price as it was.”
“He’s as bad as any Hamorian.” She offered a sound somewhere between a snort and a sniff. “You’re too good-looking to be a shopgirl. If you don’t have talent, you’d be better working for me. If you do, you’re wasted here. Brauk’ll use you until you lose your looks, and what will you have?”
Shaunyce didn’t know what to say. After a moment, she asked, “Would you like the necklace, Mistress Caryon?’
“Of course. I just don’t want to pay what he wants.”
“What would you pay?” Shaunyce hated the haggling, but Brauk was still tied up with the Hydlenese trader.
“Two golds, five.”
“He won’t take that.” Shaunyce knew that because Brauk had turned down an offer of two golds eight the previous fiveday.
“Ask him.”
Shaunyce nodded and walked back toward the study, standing outside the door and trying to catch Brauk’s eye.
After several moments, the shop owner murmured something to the trader and hurried to Shaunyce. “What is it?” Annoyance colored his voice.
“Mistress Caryon offered two golds five for the jet-black pearls. I said you wouldn’t take it. She insisted I ask you.”
“She can have it for two and seven, not a copper less.” Brauk turned and walked back to the trader.
In turn, Shaunyce made her way back to the gray-haired woman.
“Well?”
“Two and seven and not a copper less.”
Caryon sniff-snorted. “Better than two eightdays ago…” She paused. “Two and seven it is. The box comes with it.”
“Yes, Mistress Caryon.” Shaunyce didn’t know if it did, but it was a simple oak box, without any decoration, and Brauk did occasionally let the boxes go with their display contents.
“If you would get it for me and take it to the counter.”
Shaunyce did so. By the time she had retrieved the necklace and the box that held it, Caryon was at the counter and had laid out two golds and seven silvers.
Shaunyce hadn’t handled a sale that big, not without Brauk at her shoulder, but she did know what to do. She lifted out the two cards in the bottom of the box, one for the purchaser and one for the store, each listing the item and leaving a space for the purchase price and a signature for both Brauk and Caryon. She filled in the price and handed the cards to Caryon, who signed both and returned them. Shaunyce signed for Brauk, then placed the card in the box, replaced the top, and handed the box to the gray-haired woman. “Thank you, Mistress Caryon.”
“You’re most welcome.” Caryon paused. “You never told me your name.”
“Shaunyce.”
“That’s an attractive name, and one with substance. Don’t waste it, dear.” She smiled and walked from the store.
Shaunyce waited for almost half a glass before Brauk finished with the trader, showed him out, and then returned to the counter.
“Did she accept?”
“She did. She paid in golds and silvers. Here they are,” she said.
“She can spare them,” replied Brauk. “I saw that you let her have the box. That was good.”
“I know you sometimes do.”
“She doesn’t come often, and she won’t haggle much.”
“I was surprised … at the amount.”
“Because I’d rejected two and eight last fiveday? That was then. This is now. I could use the golds and silvers to pay for what the trader had. Besides, Haellyn had a buyer in mind, someone in Austra, likely. For a silver less, I’d rather sell to Caryon.”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“You’d like to know who she is?”
Shaunyce nodded.
“Have you heard of The Lady’s Place? She’s the Lady.”
“She’s the one? She doesn’t…”
“Sometimes looks reveal, sometimes conceal. That’s a line from the past.” He looked toward the shop door. “Here comes the dowager. I’m not available. Don’t part with anything for less than one part in ten of the original price.”
By the time the widow of Merchanter Moraris had reached the display case, Brauk was nowhere to be seen. Shaunyce smiled helpfully and stepped forward.
IV
Threeday passed, and so did fourday … and the rest of that eightday. When Shaunyce arrived at the shop on oneday morning she had not seen or heard from Talysen since the previous twoday. Nor did she see him or even receive a note from him over the following eightday, as the middle of harvest arrived, and the weather began to cool, and the clouds began to form in the northern skies, suggesting that the fall rains might descend even before harvest season was over.
More than a few outland merchant officers passed by the shop, and one or two even bought small things from her, but none were that much different from the tall blond man who had been the first to proposition her. She still remembered him, because he reminded her of what Talysen had said about outlanders trying to find out about the black ships. She thought about trying to see Talysen, but the gates to the student and apprentice quarters were closed to outsiders. Even family members had to be vouched for before they could enter. She thought about writing a note, but what would she say—except that she hadn’t been fair to him … which he already knew? That had been obvious the moment he had left the shop.
She was still mulling over what had happened, or what she had let happen, or what Brauk had caused to happen—or perhaps it had been all three—when a younger man, only a few years older than she was, stepped through the door. He wore the rich brown coat of a successful merchanter over a white ruffled shirt and a light brown cravat. While he looked to be headed for Brauk’s study in the back, he glanced in Shaunyce’s direction and then headed toward where she stood beside the counter.
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
“You must have missed me, then. I’ve been working here since last spring.”
“That was my loss. I’m Shefan. I was looking for Merchanter Brauk. Might he be here?”
“He is. Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”
“If you would.”
“He’s in his study.”
Although Shaunyce did not gesture for him to accompany her to the back of the shop, he followed, if several steps behind. Since the study door was ajar, Shaunyce knocked quietly, then said, “There’s a Merchanter Shefan here to see you, ser.”
“Have him come in,” replied Brauk.
Although Brauk’s words were hearty and certainly loud enough that Shefan must have heard, he remained standing several paces away, looking expectantly at Shaunyce.
“You can go in, ser.”
“Thank you.” With a smile, a very long look at her, and then a nod, he stepped toward the study.
Shaunyce stepped back and watched as he passed, entered the study, and closed the door. She did not return to the counter, but eased toward the study door, listening.
“… did you get her?… makes the trip from Land’s End almost worth it…”
“… more than decoration, Shefan … dab hand at selling things…”
“… and you didn’t bring her on for her looks?”
“… must admit … the rest was more than I’d anticipated…”
At the sound of the shop door opening, Shaunyce immediately turned and hurried back into the shop proper. She reached a position in front of the counte
r just as the tall gray-haired man stopped in front of the display case that held the dracones. He continued to study them for a time before he turned to her. His brown leather jacket was well-made, if worn, and his boots were scuffed, yet his light tan shirt was of fine cotton, and his brown trousers were of good wool.
“Might I help you, ser?”
“You know, those bronzes don’t belong here?”
“They were made by Thyel.”
“I’m certain that they were. What are they supposed to be?”
“Dracones, ser.”
“How much?”
“Seven silvers.”
“How about six?”
Shaunyce thought about countering, but the very solidity of the man stopped her. “Six it is, but I countered with six and five and you insisted on six.”
He smiled. “Done.”
After Shaunyce took his silvers, made out the cards, and then took back one he had signed, she looked at the signature—Sardittar—then at the gray-haired man. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“No. I’m from Mattra. I come here occasionally for supplies. Tools, mostly.”
“You’re a crafter?”
“Woodcrafter.” He produced a woolen cloth from somewhere and walked to the dracones, where he carefully wrapped them up. “Thank you. Tell your merchanter that they’ll have a good home.”
“I will.”
Wondering about his last words, she watched as he strode out. Seemingly in moments, the door to Brauk’s study opened, and Shefan walked from the rear of the shop to the counter.
“You’re still here?”
“Where else would I be?”
“Have you ever thought about leaving Nylan?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Adventure, change, even love, perhaps. I wouldn’t think you’d want to be a shopgirl all your life.” Shefan smiled.
The smile bothered her, as if he was suggesting … all manner of possibilities, none of which appealed to her, perhaps because all of them were linked to Shefan. “I appreciate your interest in my well-being, Merchanter Shefan. You’re very kind, and thoughtful, but I think I’d prefer to remain in Nylan.”
“You can’t blame a man for suggesting possibilities.”
The fact that it was the second time a man had used that sort of phrase bothered her, but she managed to reply, “You can’t blame a woman for wanting different possibilities.”
For an instant, he looked shocked. Then he smiled, faintly, coolly. “I see. In that case, I wish you well … here in Nylan.” With a nod, he turned and left.
Before long, Brauk walked to the counter. “Shefan didn’t stay long. I thought he might.”
“He suggested some possibilities. I wasn’t interested.”
“That’s probably for the best. Shefan tends to be interested in anything only for a short time.” Brauk glanced at the display case. “What happened to the dracones?”
“I sold them.”
“You sold them? To whom?”
Shaunyce handed him the card.
“Sardittar? Never heard of him.”
“He said he was a woodcrafter in Mattra.”
“And you got six for them? From a woodcrafter?”
“You said I could take six if someone was interested.”
“He must be a very good woodcrafter, indeed.” Brauk shook his head.
“He said to tell you that the dracones would have a good home.”
“He said those exact words?”
“Yes, ser … maybe not exactly, but he did say they’d have a good home.”
“Very strange. Oh well, life has its turns.” Brauk smiled happily and headed back to the study, but not before scooping up the silvers.
V
On the sixth fourday of harvest, late in the afternoon, the blond merchant officer walked into the shop again. He didn’t head straight for her, but for the more expensive display case, where the dracones had been, which now featured a pair of black iron daggers, one of which Brauk had obtained from the rough-voiced trader. She was sure it was him, except he wore different garb and a different rank patch on the sleeve of his dark blue jacket. She hadn’t known what the first patch had signified, nor did she recognize the second.
“Have you changed ships?” she asked.
He gave her a quizzical glance. “Have we met before?” His words were in Temple, but with a Hamorian accent, unlike the voice of the man she had thought he might be. A warm smile followed. “It would be strange if we had. I’ve never ported here before.”
Was he someone different? Or just pretending? “I don’t think so. For a moment, you reminded me of someone. Do you have a brother?”
The man laughed. “You’ve met Coenyr?” He frowned. “I don’t think … that’s possible, not here in Nylan.”
“I didn’t say it was here,” Shaunyce said. “Is he an officer in the Hamorian navy?”
“He is. That’s why…”
“He couldn’t have come here,” she finished his words. “And you’re a merchant officer, aren’t you?”
He nodded, a puzzled expression still on his face.
“Let’s just say it was a long time ago that I saw him for just a few moments. He was rather insistent. Nice, but insistent. I wasn’t interested.” She smiled politely. “Are you looking for something special?”
“Oh … I’m looking for something for my consort. Not too expensive, but something that she can look at and tell that it’s from Recluce.” He looked at the display case that had held the dracones.
“What’s in that case likely wouldn’t fit what you have in mind.” She eased toward the wall shelves to her left. “There are a few bracelets and pendants here…” She stepped back and let him look.
His eyes caught the bracelet, the one Shaunyce had thought might appeal. He picked it up and studied it, his eyes going over the simple designs carved in the polished black lorken and the regularly placed pin pearls.
“This is probably too dear for me…”
“Five silvers,” she said.
He looked askance. “That’s all?”
“It’s not metal. It’s lorken, and pin pearls aren’t that hard to come by here on the beaches below the cliffs. You’re paying for the artistry.”
“I’ll take it.” He paused. “Or am I supposed to bargain?”
“We bargained,” she said. “You paid full price, but I’m adding in the box. It’s a good box, and you’ll need it to keep the bracelet safe.”
“I can see why Coenyr was interested in you. I would be, too, if I were him.”
She could tell that he felt obligated to say something nice. “You’re kind, but you’re still in love with your consort, and that is something I appreciate.”
An embarrassed grin crossed his lips. “She is special.”
“I hope she’ll like the bracelet. It was made by Loricana. She comes from a long line of artisans.”
“Do you know them all? All the artisans in Nylan?”
Shaunyce shook her head. “I have a pendant she made. That’s how I know about her.”
“From an admirer, no doubt?”
“From my father, before he was lost at sea.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Shaunyce smiled, if sadly. “That was when I was eight. Will you be away from her for much longer?”
“We’re bound back to Swartheld from here. I hope it’s not too long a crossing.”
The smile on his face confirmed to Shaunyce how he felt about his consort.
He eased out his battered leather wallet and laid five silvers on the counter. She took the cards from the box and filled them out, then had him sign both.
Once he left, Shaunyce couldn’t help but think about what he’d said—and what Talysen had said, so much earlier. The brother of the first blond officer had been clear. The first one was a Hamorian officer, but he’d been in Nylan as a merchant officer—or mate, or whatever they were called.
She’d thought Talysen had be
en inventing things. Now … she wasn’t so sure.
Even when she had walked the kay to the small house with the shed in the rear that held her mother’s studio and kiln, she was still mulling all that had happened during the day … and what had happened with the woodcrafter and the dracones and with Merchanter Shefan eightdays earlier. There was … something … connecting them all, except she couldn’t quite figure it out.
She had barely entered the house and crossed the small front room to the kitchen where her mother stood beside the old ceramic stove before Nynca spoke.
“You’re still thinking about Talysen, aren’t you?”
“Mother.” Shaunyce only expressed mild exasperation. “I just got home. Why would you think that?”
“That was a guess, but you’re thinking about something. You always call out a greeting when you first come in, unless you’re thinking deep thoughts.”
“I haven’t seen Talysen in almost a season.”
“You were still thinking about him,” observed Nynca.
“I was, but not in that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was interested in me. I liked him, but…”
“You weren’t in love with him. Not then. It might be better that way.”
“Mother … how could I consort someone who is just a friend?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I’ve said enough. You know, you don’t have to work for Merchanter Brauk.”
“What else can I do? I won’t live here and do nothing.” Shaunyce didn’t add what she’d always felt about working with the clay that wedged itself under her fingernails and dried out the skin of her hands and fingers until she felt that they would split and crack.
“That’s a start,” said Nynca dryly. When Shaunyce did not say anything, she added, “Still wanting to carry your own weight.”
“I’ve always tried to do that. I never wanted to be a burden on you. Never!”
“That’s true enough,” replied her mother.
After a long silence, Shaunyce finally asked, “What else could I do?”
“You won’t admit it, but you do have a talent with the clay. It wouldn’t get under your nails if you’d cut them.”
Recluce Tales Page 31
