The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [160]
“I’m paying twice what I should—”
“About the dried—I meant to . . .”
Creslin groans. “The mutton was from the Duke, right?”
“But the dried fruit came all the way from Kyphros. You insisted that the fruit was important.”
“You couldn’t find any fruit from anyplace closer than Kyphros?”
“Lucky to find that. It’s been a dry year everywhere.”
“How much did it cost?”
Freigr doesn’t look at Creslin; instead, he digs out a slip of parchment. “I did the best I could.”
“I’ll have the payment for you later today.” Creslin swallows. More of the heavy gold links will go. Some of the fruit he can trade for fish or sea ducks. He looks at the Dawnstar, then at Freigr. “We need that canvas.”
“It should be ready by the next trip. But they want the gold in advance.”
“In advance?”
The Griffin’s master shrugs. “You know how many I had to talk to before anyone would agree to it.”
“You’re saying that you won’t get sails for the Dawnstar unless I show gold in advance.” The graying master looks at the smooth planks underfoot. “I’d never make a free trader, but even Gossel couldn’t get around it. And he was raised to it.”
“Nothing’s ever as easy as you think it will be.”
“No, it’s not. And it always takes longer.” Then Freigr smiles. “At least you have a proper inn now. You going to sing tonight?”
“Somehow I’m not much in the mood for singing.”
“Too bad. You’d have made it with the best of the minstrels, and you’d probably be happier.”
“Could be,” admits the co-regent of Recluce. He straightens. “What else do I have to find a way to pay you for?”
“Well, there are the tools . . .”
CVII
“THERE WASN’T A pay chest.” Hyel looks around the table. “And there was another taxation notice.”
“It came on the Griffin,” Creslin explains. “But the notice doesn’t change anything. What do we have to pay it with? Was there anything else? Any letters for Megaera or me?”
Hyel shakes his head. “The notice was addressed to you as regents.”
“Korweil . . . even given . . . I can’t believe it,” murmurs Megaera.
Klerris glances from one regent to the other, purses his lips, then waits.
“What about the cargo?” asks Shierra.
“It’s paid for,” Creslin snaps. Paid for with gold links and his remaining coins—except for the Duke’s mutton and the salted beef, the last of the provisions sent by Llyse.
“Did you have to pay, since the ship is Korweil’s?” Shierra’s question is blunt.
“Freigr’s acting as a consignment agent. Even if the Duke made good the loss, would we get another shipment? Would anyone else trade with us?”
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Until the Dawnstar is finished, and until the Griffin brings the canvas—that should be on the next trip—our choices are limited.”
“Limited?”
“The traders know we don’t have ships and that most Candarians won’t trade with us. We don’t buy enough to make it worthwhile for the Nordlans or the Bristans to make a special run—”
“So they’re gouging the darkness out of us?” assesses Hyel.
“That’s why we need the Dawnstar, and a few others as well.”
“We can’t pay for one ship, let alone others.”
“We can’t afford not to,” snaps Creslin. “Sorry,” he adds as a faint aching echoes across his skull and as Megaera rubs her forehead. Even his righteous frustration can hurt both of them.
“How do you plan to get more ships?” asks Lydya.
“I don’t know.”
Both Megaera’s sharp look and the tightness in his guts bear witness to the lie, but no one presses him. Still, he stands. “I’m heading out beyond the high fields. I need to see if we can find another spring.”
“What are we going to do about the pay chest we don’t have?”
“I’ll tell everyone the truth—that they won’t get paid, that we’ve been abandoned by Korweil. If they trust us, I’ll promise to make it up them when we can. Those who don’t—” Creslin shrugs “—they can leave or go try to live off the land.”
“That’s not much of a choice,” presses Hyel.
“I don’t have any better to offer. I’ve spent almost everything I have on food and supplies. And I certainly didn’t eat it all personally.”
“That’s a little harsh.” Megaera’s