Glasswrights' Journeyman (28 page)

The man – Tovin – grinned and said, “Or maybe you should have another player try. Some are better at extracting stories than others.”

“My lady Flarissa was brilliant at getting me to Speak,” Rani answered hotly, stung to defend the player woman. She was surprised to hear Flarissa laugh.

“Ranita! Thank you for your praises. But you need not defend me to this impudent whelp. Ranita, this is Tovin. My son.”

Son. Now that Rani looked, she could see the strong line of the man's jaw, the exotic angle of his cheekbones, and she could recognize traces of Flarissa's nose and mouth. Where the player-woman was soft though, a calm and loving mother, the man was hard. Rani recognized the look immediately. Tovin was a trader. He might live in players' clothing, but he was a merchant man at heart.

“Ranita,” Tovin said, pinning her with copper eyes that mirrored his mother's gaze. “You're not from Liantine, are you?”

“I'm from Morenia, sir,” Rani said. She tried to keep her voice courteous.

“A westerner, hmm?” He ran his eyes down her body, as if he were appraising horseflesh. She sensed him counting out her name, measuring up her caste. “What guild do you hail from, then?”

“The glasswrights, sir.”

“Then you're an outlaw among your people?”

“The glasswrights are no longer outlaw,” Rani said stiffly. “We have been recognized by King Halaravilli. We are rebuilding.”

“Rebuilding.” Tovin rolled the word around on his tongue, and Rani could picture him upon the players' stage. He might take the part of a lord, a noble, a person accustomed to command.

Flarissa interrupted before Rani could elaborate on her hopes for the glasswrights' guild. “Tovin, she's a guest among us players. Don't tease the girl.”

Tovin snorted and crossed to the mantel, pouring himself a cup of wine. He was tall, Rani noted, taller than Hal, and he was broad through his shoulders. “Forgive me, Ranita.” He offered up the apology without any hint of regret. “My mother thinks that I've been rude.”

“You have been,” Flarissa remonstrated, but she smiled as she chided. “Don't think that you can ride into camp on the very day of the Spring Meet, come into my cottage, drink my greenwine, and insult my guests.”

Tovin laughed and saluted his mother with his goblet before he turned toward Rani. “I trust you will forgive me, Ranita Glasswright? Pardon me before my mother, or I'll never hear the end of her complaints.”

Rani tried to remember how she would respond to a merchant boy who teased her, but she was oddly at a loss before Tovin's glinting grin. “There's nothing to forgive,” she managed, although she did not reach the light tone that she'd hoped for.

Flarissa nodded indulgently, as if she were pleased to see peace among her squabbling children. “How was your journey, Tovin?”

He shrugged and drained his cup. “Not good. They're driving a hard bargain this time. They claim that they can no longer afford to support a troop of players. The sale of spidersilk is off. The priests are calling for the faithful to give up spidersilk hangings in favor of wood panels, reminders of the Horned Hind.”

“When will you go back, then?”

“I'll stay here for the Spring Meet and a bit more. Perhaps a week, all told. Then, I'll conclude our deal.” He set his cup upon the mantel. “I've plenty of business to complete, before I return to the road. I just wanted you to know that I am home.”

Flarissa glowed with pride. “I'm pleased to see you well.”

He bobbed a quick bow and headed for the door, but then turned back to Rani. “Ranita Glasswright. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“A pleasure, sir.” Rani kept her words short, for she was not at all certain that Flarissa's son pleased her. Not at all sure that it was a pleasure to meet those probing copper eyes. Tovin bowed again and left.

Rani waited for Flarissa's proud smile to fade, and then she asked, “He's been with the spiderguild, then?”

“Aye. He negotiates for us. He buys our silk and settles on our patronage each year.”

“The guild must be very strong.”

“Strong as spidersilk.” Flarissa shook her head. “They don't seem so powerful, if you merely take a glance. Their guildhall is on the high plains, three day's ride from Liantine, two from here. But they spin their webs and measure out their power. Spiders, silk, and poison. The Horned Hind may encroach upon their power, but they are far from beaten yet.”

Rani shivered, thinking of the venomous creatures that spawned such wealth. “But enough about the spiderguild!” Flarissa cried. “You must think of all the questions you would ask Tovin.”

“Ask him?”

“Of course! Tovin is our glasswright. Did I forget to say that?”

Rani's dismay bubbled up inside her. That man? That unsettling, arrogant. …

Flarissa smiled. “I'll make sure that he speaks with you tonight. Now sit beside me and keep me company while I finish mending these sandals.” Rani settled down beside the player-woman and let herself be drawn into conversation, even as she thought about the lessons she might learn from Tovin.

 

* * *

 

Rani watched Mair rub at her wrist. “You're not a Touched child anymore.”

“I didn't fall because I'm old, Rai. I fell because they didn't turn the ropes evenly.”

“You're lucky you didn't break that arm again. It's been weak ever since Amanthia.”

Mair did not answer, only looked out at the stream. Both girls had been banished from the players' camp, told to stay away for the afternoon and early evening. The players were conducting the most secret part of their Spring Meet, plotting their business deals for the coming year, deciding where they would travel and what they would play. Flarissa had promised to send someone along as soon as the Meet was concluded. Rani and Mair were expected to join in the evening feast.

Rani wondered where Crestman had gone. She had been unable to find him when she and Mair departed for the stream. He was likely spying on the players, counting out the Little Army members they had scattered through their midst. She hoped that he would not offend their hosts.

“So,” Rani said to fill the silence. “We were so astonished when Hal received the Fellowship's demand that we scarcely spoke about the reasoning behind it. What do you think that they intend to do with a thousand bars of gold?”

“Break the crown.”

“Surely they mean more than that? They must intend to use the gold for something.”

Mair pursed her lips. “We already know that they can hire Yrathi mercenaries and turn those soldiers to their will. If they have a treasury so deep, why would they bother collecting a thousand bars of gold from King Halaravilli?”

“It would prove his loyalty. Not a bad plan, that – they test him
and
they get a lot of wealth. Perhaps they intend to do something in Morenia. Something specific to the fire and our rebuilding.”

“Aye.”

“Or maybe they want to seek out all the Little Army, settle the matter once and for all.”

“Aye.”

“Or maybe they are going to honor Hal's marriage, to send some gift welcoming his bride.”

“Rai, you're making these things up! You have no way of guessing what the Fellowship will do.”

“Doesn't it bother you? Not knowing?”

Mair shrugged. “I've never known anything about the Fellowship. From the day I joined them, they kept their secrets. I know they gather power. I know they work in every land. Aside from that, they've kept me ignorant, and I can't lose sleep waiting to learn their next move. I'll protect myself the best I can, use them when I might, and go about living my life.”

Rani let Mair's words flow down the stream, disappearing into the deepening twilight. She wished that she could be as dismissive, wished that she could care so little for what the Fellowship planned. “It's not that simple, Mair. Even if they intend to throw the gold into a well, they're affecting things by asking for it. They'll come close to breaking Morenia, just to get their thousand bars.”

“He'll pay them from the princess's dowry.”

“He won't. He won't be able to bargain for that much. He already owes the church five hundred bars by Midsummer Day – which is fast approaching – and five thousand after that. The most he'll get for Berylina is a thousand.”

“You're such an expert in royal trade?”

“I've studied the market.” Rani tried to wash the bitterness from her tone. There were many books that she had studied when she was supposed to be focusing on her glasswright skills. She had read the histories of Morenia, and Amanthia too. She understood the limits on a bride price. Especially when the groom was desperate.

“He'll find another method, then. He'll raise money some other way.”

“Nothing pays that well, Mair.”

“Of course things do. Mining gold itself. Slaves. The spidersilk monopoly.”

Mining gold – as if Morenia would be lucky enough to find such deposits in its soil. Slaves – even if Hal
had
been inclined to ransom off his loyal folk, he had seen enough evil in Amanthia to kill the thought. The spidersilk, though. …

Rani sat up straight. “Spidersilk. …” she repeated.

Mair eyed her in the soft darkness. “Don't even think about it. You'd need spiders, Rai. Riberries. Markin grubs.”

“How many, though? We could do this, Mair!”

“You're a better merchant than that, Rai. Don't you think others have tried? Mair shook her head. “They'll protect those spiders, protect the trees – their very lives depend on it. Besides, even if you managed to steal them, how would you build a market overnight? You'd have to find skilled spinners, weavers, dyers. You'd have to send merchants to trade fairs, cart your goods all over Morenia. Amanthia too.”

“I
am
a better merchant, Mair. I'm good enought to see that we'd never succeed if we try to keep the silk trade all to ourselves, the way the guild does now.”

“What else would you do?”

Rani saw the plan unfold before her, as if she had turned a page in a book. “We could disperse the silk monopoly among Hal's nobles. We could look at the taxing rolls. Between Morenia and Amanthia, there surely are a hundred landed nobles. Each man could be required to purchase a riberry tree, markin grubs, a handful of spiders. Each man could pay to the crown … ten gold bars for the privilege. Ten bars to start, and ten bars every year thereafter, like payments on land, or a marketplace stall – a license. There's Hal's thousand bars for the Fellowship – more, if he obtains more trees.”

“License! Why not tax them directly?”

“They will not pay more taxes. They've been assessed heavily – three years ago, for the campaign in Amanthia, two months ago for the first of the fire costs. You know the border lords are restless, they'll rebel at the first hint that they are being squeezed any tighter. But if they
receive
something for their payment, if they become masters of the precious octolaris. …”

“This is all a fireside tale, Rai. You'll never get the spiders. Never get the trees.”

“But if I
could
, Mair. Just imagine, if I could!”

“How many Morenian nobles will be able to keep a riberry tree growing? They're tricky, from all we've heard. And the spiders are poisonous.”

“What does it matter? They'll pay to try. We'll help them as best we can. If they fail, or if they fear the octolaris, that will be their problem. Ten gold bars is not an unreasonable wager for future riches. Not if a man can become a knight of the Order of the Octolaris!”

“The
what
?”

“Hal can announce a new knightly order. He can order Davin to design a sash or a pendant, something. The nobles are going to
want
to join him in this endeavor!”

Mair shifted her gaze back to the stream, letting the silent night carry away Rani's enthusiasm. “There's only one problem, Rai.”

“What?”

“How are you going to get the spiders? How are you going to get the trees?”

“I'll work on that. I'm a trader. I'll figure out how to get the goods.”

“All this, just to meet Glair's demands?” Mair's skepticism was clear, even though her face was lost in the darkness.

“What choice do we have?” Hal is determined to make his bid within the Fellowship, and they've handed him the perfect opportunity. Maybe Glair does not want Dartulamino to succeed her after all.”

“Rai, you have no idea what Glair wants! Maybe Glair and Dartulamino, together, want to ruin the king with this latest request.”

“They've miscalculated, then.” Rani's voice was firm, loyal.

Mair waited a long time before she asked, “Do you think they have a presence here, Rai? The Fellowship, in Liantine?”

“They must. They have their fingers in every kingdom. I could ask Flarissa.”

“You can't!” Mair exclaimed. “You can't tell her about the Fellowship!”

“I won't
tell
her,” Rani said. “I'll ask. I'll just see what Flarissa knows.”

“What Flarissa knows about what?” The voice was loud in the darkness, loud and masculine and wholly unexpected. Rani scrambled to her feet and whirled to face the intruder. Tovin was frowning at the girls as he threw wide the shutter on the lantern that he carried.

“Tovin!” Rani exclaimed. How much had the player overheard?

“What did you want to ask my mother about?”

“Glass,” Rani extemporized. “I want to know where you get the glass for your panels. I want to know who you trade with.”

Tovin looked at her steadily, his copper eyes reflecting the warm lantern light. A small smile curved the edges of his lips, and he raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief. “Flarissa isn't the person you should speak to, then. I make the glass screens.”