Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [150]
The swordsman started to respond, but Ehomba stopped him before the words could leave his mouth. “No! We’ve risked our lives to save Ahlitah from just such a fate. I will not see him sold to satisfy my own needs.”
Simna eyed him sharply. “Not even to get yourself across the Semordria?”
“Not even for that.” The herdsman looked back at the Captain. “We have very few possessions, and these we need.”
She nodded tersely, her red hair rippling, and started to rise from the table. “Then I wish you good fortune in your difficult endeavors, gentlemen. Now if you will excuse me, I have a long and strenuous voyage ahead of me, and many last-minute preparations to supervise.” The audience was at an end.
Ehomba did not panic. It was not an emotion he was heir to. But seeing their best and only hope of crossing the ocean about to walk out the door, he certainly became uncommonly anxious. A sudden thought made him rise halfway from his own chair as he raised his voice.
“Wait! Please, one moment.”
An impatient look on her deeply tanned face, Stanager Rose hesitantly resumed her seat. Simna was eyeing his tall friend curiously. The swordsman expected the herdsman to start digging through his pack, but this was not what happened. Instead, Ehomba reached down and fumbled briefly in one of the pockets of his kilt. What he brought out caused Simna’s gaze to narrow.
The Captain nodded at the fist-sized cloth sack. “What’ve you got there, tall man? Gold, silver, trinkets?”
“Pebbles.” Ehomba smiled apologetically. “From a beach near my village. I brought them along to remind me of home, and of the sea. Whenever the longing grew too great, I could always reach into my pocket and rub the pebbles against each other, listen to them scrape and clink.” He handed the sack to Stanager. “Once when I was much younger a trader came to the village from far to the south, farther away even than Askaskos. A friend of mine was playing jump-rock outside his house with some pebbles like these. Passing by, the trader happened to see and admire them. He offered my friend’s family some fine things in exchange. After receiving approval from Asab, the trade was made.” He gestured for the Captain to open the sack.
“If they were valuable to a trader who had come all the way from south of Askaskos, maybe they will have some value to you as well.” He hesitated. “Though I would be sorry to have to give up my little memory bag.”
Stanager was considerate if not hopeful. Taking pity on the lanky foreigner, she pulled the drawstring that closed the neck of the little cloth bag and turned it upside down. The double handful of pebbles promptly spilled out onto the tabletop. Struck by the light that poured in through the ports, the pebbles sparkled brightly. They were rough and sea-tossed, with most of the edges worn off them.
Simna’s eyes opened so wide they threatened to pop right out of his head and roll egglike across the table. Like little else, his reaction did not escape the Captain’s notice.
“So, Owl-eyes, you think these pebbles are valuable too?”
Recovering quickly, the swordsman looked away and exhaled indifferently. “Hoy, what? Oh, perhaps a little. I know very little about such things. To me they’re nothing remarkable, but I believe my friend is right when he says that they might have some value.”
“I see.” Her gaze flicked sharply from one man to the other. “Ayesh, I am no expert on ‘pebbles’ either, but my supercargo knows a good deal about stones and their value. We will soon learn if these are worth anything—or if you are trying to cozen me with stories.” Pushing back in her seat, she yelled toward the open doorway. “Terious! Find old Broch and send him down here!”
They waited in silence, the Captain of the Grömsketter in all her stern-faced beauty, Ehomba smiling hopefully, and Simna gazing off into the distance with studied indifference.
“What are you gaping at, little man?” an irritated Stanager finally asked the swordsman.
“Hoy, me? Why nothing, Captain,