“A trading settlement?” Molly repeated. “So there will be people from all over, not just from around here?”
“Aye, that’s right,” Conall nodded. “Merchants come from far and wide to trade goods and information. And there are plenty of travelers passing through as well.”
Molly felt a faint glimmer of hope. Maybe if there were people from all over the country and beyond, she might blend in a little and not stick out like a sore thumb.
“What do they trade?”
Conall shrugged. “Depends on the season and what the traders bring. Right now, it’s mostly wool and dried fish.”
Molly wrinkled her nose at the thought of dried fish. “Lovely.”
Conall chuckled. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. Besides, the people here are good folk. They’ll take us in and give us a place to stay for the night.”
Molly nodded slowly. As they approached, she could see that the village was bustling with activity. Merchants unloaded crates of goods from their boats while others haggled over prices. She heard the clinking of coins and the drone of people talking over each other in a dozen different accents.
It was a little overwhelming. For the first time since she had arrived in this strange time, she was suddenly thrust full tilt into local life. Up until now, it had been just her, Conall and the sea. Now she had to navigate a world she was completely unfamiliar with.
Conall guided the boat into the harbor, expertly dodging other boats and skilfully steering through the choppy waters until they finally came to a stop at a wooden dock. He hopped out of the boat and tied it up, then turned to offer Molly his hand. Molly steeled herself and then took it, feeling his rough, calloused skin against hers.
“This way, lass.”
Molly followed him along the dock and into the settlement, looking around and trying to take in everything at once. The smell of fish and saltwater mixed with the pungent scent of wool and the sweet aroma of baking bread filled the air. It was an odd combination, but it made her mouth water, nonetheless.
Finally, they arrived at a large timber building—the only one so far that had more than one story. The other houses and shops were modest, with thatched roofs and simple wooden walls. This one, on the other hand, had a shingled roof and a towering facade.
As she followed Conall inside, Molly saw that the building was large and airy, with an open layout that seemed to extend well beyond what she could see from the entrance. It looked like some sort of guild house mixed with an inn. There were tables and chairs set up around a central hearth where several people were talking animatedly, and along one wall there was an impressive array of barrels filled with ale and mead. Further back were several large desks where people seemed to be conducting negotiations whilst scribes scribbled on bits of parchment.
“Welcome,” Conall said softly, “to the Trading House.”
Molly looked around, wondering how they managed to make their money here, considering the fact that this was such a small village and so remote from most of the larger trading centers. How did they move so many goods and services through? And why did this place have such a difficult access through that narrow inlet?
Conall crossed to the bar where a stick-thin man with an unruly mop of white hair was wiping a pewter tankard.
“I need to see the Chief,” Conall said.
The barkeep looked Conall up and down. “Chief’s busy.”
Conall glanced around the room, then reached into a pouch at his belt and produced a round silver coin which he slid across the bar.
“Like I said, I need to see the Chief.”
The barkeep examined it for a moment. Then he gave a thin smile. “Chief will be here when the Chief is ready. Ye can wait if ye like. I’ll bring ye food and ale.”
Conall inclined his head. “My thanks.”
He indicated for Molly to precede him to one of the tables. She lowered herself onto the wooden bench and did her best to look calm, disinterested even, while all the time her stomach squirmed with nerves.
Around them, business continued in the Trading House with nobody paying them any attention. At least, that’s what it looked like, but Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that their presence had been marked and noted and that they were being carefully watched. She caught the barkeep glancing in their direction on more than one occasion and also one of the scribes watching them from across the room in between bouts of furious scribbling.
She shifted uncomfortably. “Who is this Chief?”
Conall leaned back on the bench, stretching out his long legs. “Like I said, the person I need to see.”
“How long are we going to have to wait?”
He shrugged. “As long as it takes. Relax. At least we’re dry and warm for once. We’re safe here.”
Safe? Molly felt anything but safe. She felt vulnerable and exposed and did not like the edgy feel of this place.
