Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [85]
Besides her abortifacients, Anghariad had other strange things for sale to the right customers. That afternoon she was extremely displeased at the paucity of goods that Sarcyn had to offer her.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “One of our couriers was taken with all his goods down in Cerrmor. You’re cursed lucky that Tve got any opium at all.”
The old woman picked up the black lump and scored it with her fingernail, then carefully examined the way it crumbled.
“I prefer it better refined than this,” she snapped. “The noble-born have more fastidious tastes than some sot of a Bardek dockworker.”
“I told you: you’re cursed lucky to get any at all. Now, if you do me a favor, I’ll give it to you for free.”
Suddenly she was all smiles and close attention.
“I know who some of your regular customers are.”
Sarcyn leaned closer. “And one of them particularly interests me. I want to meet him. Send Lord Camdel news of the delivery and tell him to come out here alone.”
“Oh, ye gods,” Rhodry grumbled. “We finally find a tavern with decent mead, and now you tell me that we can’t afford it.”
“Well,” Jill said, “if you weren’t too beastly proud to take a hire guarding a caravan—”
“It’s not just pride! It’s the honor of the thing.”
Jill rolled her eyes heavenward to ask the gods to witness such stubbornness, then let the matter drop. Actually, they had a fair amount of coin left from the winter, but she had no intention of letting him know it. He was just like her father, drinking the coin away or handing it over to beggars with never a thought for what might lie ahead on the long road. Just as she’d done with Cullyn, therefore, she let Rhodry think that they were close to being beggars themselves.
“If you spend coin on mead now,” she said, “how are you going to feel when we’re riding hungry without even a copper to buy a scrap of bread? I’ll wager the memory of the mead will taste bitter enough then.”
“Oh, very well! I’ll settle for ale.”
She handed him four coppers, and off he went to get the ale. They were in the tavern room of the cheapest inn in Dun Aedyn, a prosperous trading town in the middle of some of the richest farmland in the whole kingdom. When they left Cerrmor, they’d ridden there because they’d heard rumors of a feud brewing between the town’s lord and one of his neighbors, but unfortunately it had been settled by the local gwerbret before they arrived. Dun Aedyn was too important to the rhan for the overlord to sit by while it was ravaged by war. Rhodry returned with two tankards, set them down on the table, then sat next to her on the bench.
“You know,” she said, “we could ride east to Yr Auddglyn. There’s bound to be fighting there this summer.”
“True spoken, and it’s a lot closer than Cerrgonney. Shall we ride straight through the border hills?”
Since the road through the hills was shorter than turning south to take the road along the seacoast, Jill was about to agree when she suddenly felt as if an invisible hand had clamped over her mouth to silence her. Blindly and irrationally she knew that they should head for Dun Mannannan before going to the Auddglyn. Dweomer again, curse it! she thought. For a moment she struggled against it, decided that they’d blasted well go through the hills if they wanted to, but she knew stubbornly and fiercely that something of importance would meet them in Dun Mannannan.
“Did you hear what I said?” Rhodry snapped.
“I did. My apologies. Uh, here, my love. I want to take the coast road. I know it’s longer, but—ah, well—there’s somewhat I want to ask Otho the Smith.”
“Very well, then. But do we have enough coin to take the longer way?”
“We would if you’d take that caravan job. They’re going to the coast.” She put her hands on his shoulders and smiled up into his eyes. “Please, my love?”
“I don’t want to.”
She stopped the grumble with a kiss.
“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll go look up that merchant straightaway.”
After he left, she sipped her ale and wondered about the strange thought that had come into her mind of its