The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [55]
‘Huh! Unless your herbs can grow me a new face, good sir, I don’t know what that could be.’
‘I’ll think on it.’ Nevyn smiled at her, then glanced at Gwairyc. ‘Well, we might as well wait back in town and spare our proud Varynna the sight of us.’
As they were walking along the dirt road back to town, Gwairyc seemed preoccupied. Finally he gave one of his dismissive shrugs and came out with it. ‘A question for you, my lord,’ Gwairyc said. ‘The land out here’s not as rich as that around Dun Deverry, is it?’
‘The soil’s rocky in places, truly. I’m surprised you’d notice that.’
‘And isn’t half the fighting in the kingdom to see who’ll have the best land? Between the great clans, I mean.’
‘True spoken.’
‘But anyway, I was just remembering that pissing brat with the rotten tooth and his stinking family. Why is Morwen’s farm so wealthy-looking and theirs so poor?’
‘Myrn and Ligga, you mean? It’s not the farm that’s poor. It’s them. The reason? The closer you get to Dun Deverry, the more the noble-born take in taxes. Myrn and Ligga have the misfortune to live close to court.’
Gwairyc turned to look at him in open-mouthed amazement. ‘Misfortune?’ he said at last. ‘It’s an honour to be close to the king’s own city.’
Nevyn felt like grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. Instead, he said, ‘Not for them. Their local lord takes most of their crop, and they rarely have enough left to sell for things like cloth and furniture. If they can’t make it themselves, they don’t have it.’
‘Well, but don’t Morwen’s kin pay their lord taxes?’
‘Of course, but here in Pyrdon we’re close to the border. The lords know they need the loyalty of their folk. And beside, the lords here only go to court once a year, and not even that for some of them. They don’t need to cut a fine figure there, so they’re not as greedy as the courtiers.’
‘Greedy?’ Gwairyc blinked several times, as if he were trying to see something that lay beyond his vision. ‘If you’re going to stay at court you have to dress well, and entertain, and the like. The noble-born don’t have any choice about that.’
‘Um, well, no doubt they think they have no choice,’ Nevyn said. ‘Ah, here we are, back in town! Let’s go to the tavern room. I need a tankard of our innkeep’s darkest ale.’
With the market fair over, Nevyn had no customers that afternoon. He sat with Wffyn in the tavern, deserted except for them, their two apprentices, and the innkeep’s wife. Some flies circling round and round in the middle of the room provided the only distraction.
‘Uh, Gwairyc?’ Tirro said. ‘I was wondering if, well, if you’d like to dice for straws. It would be somewhat to do.’
Gwairyc considered for a long moment, while Tirro waited, his shoulders so tense he was nearly crouching on the bench.
‘Oh, why not?’ Gwairyc said at last. ‘Here, let’s move to one of those empty tables.’
Tirro smiled so broadly that he might have been given some expensive gift. ‘Splendid idea! Here, let me stand you a tankard. Please? I got my wages yesterday.’
‘Very well. My thanks.’
Nevyn watched while they set up their game and took their tankards, then leaned forward to speak softly to Wffyn. ‘He’s a sad creature, your apprentice. Desperate for a little friendly conversation.’
‘He is that,’ Wffyn murmured, ‘but I still wouldn’t trust him with anything I valued.’ He raised his voice to a normal level. ‘I wonder what he’ll think of the Westfolk? We’ll be there a fair bit of time, a good fortnight I was thinking.’
‘That long?’
‘That long. You see, I’ve got a grand scheme in mind.’ Wffyn smiled, and his eyes sparkled. ‘The Westfolk never sell us anything but geldings. That way we can’t breed their golden horses for ourselves. But I’ve brought some very special goods along. I’m hoping to find an opening, like, to persuade someone to part with a mare or two. If I can, then maybe next trip I can go to a different part of the trading zone and get a golden stud. No more of these long tedious trips, then!’
‘Indeed. Do you think you have