AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Unless you have any proof beyond the words of a girl of dubious parentage, I wondered why you bothered.”
Rainfall leaned forward. “Both of us are guilty of hard words to each other in the past. I fought your assumption of the thane-title on your father’s death, and you have coveted my property as more suitable ground for the thane-seat than Galahall. The coming child gives us a chance at alliance in Hypatia’s interest, if for no other reason. I offer you this chance before we become enemies.”
“Open enmity?” Hammar asked. “That’s not like you. As to chances, I’ve higher title, better men, and enough good yew bows to feather the creature better than that torn pillow. You took too great a gamble when you put so much hope into one scaly beast. Its head will adorn my trophy room.”
Rainfall cocked an ear toward her panel door, perhaps fearing a telltale creek.
“She’s a Hypatian Citizen, and I hear murder being threatened against her in my own receiving hall. Hypatian law is greater than any man, yea even a thane.”
“Law is only as strong as the men to enforce it,” Hammar said. “And here, I’m the law. I’ll wish no good day to you, elf.” Hammar turned on his heel and strode out the door.
“I sometimes wonder if it would be easier to just give him Mossbell,” Rainfall said to her when she emerged.
“How can I ease your cares?” Wistala asked.
“You’re careworn enough, stomping around the grounds last night. Go watch the circus and forget all worries.”
So Wistala watched the antics again from a discreet corner of the inn’s roof, sheltered from the wind by a warm chimney. The audience, prosperous farmers and tradesmen, were better dressed today, and had ridden from farther away to attend, answering the calls of Ragwrist’s announcement-riders. Jessup’s Inn—she couldn’t call it the Green Dragon, the name seemed silly to her—had a number of parties staying.
Numerous bills and messages were tacked to the notice-post in front of the inn, surrounded by those literate enough to read and discuss the news as they passed, but the local talk of villains wanted for hanging and auctions left off when Lada walked across the road from Mossbell, intent on seeing the circus and attended by Forstrel.>He brought the rest of his fingertips together. “Lastly: our rate of sheep and goat, lamb and kid consumption is alarming, and will only grow with you. A prosperous circus should be able to afford your upkeep.”
“Prosperous?” Ragwrist objected. “You haven’t seen my accounting recently. Bled by—”
Rainfall ignored the interruption. “And consider this: You will eventually sprout your wings, perhaps wish to find a mate. You’ll have more knowledge of the lands, though I should like you to return now and again—in fact, the law will require it.”
“Why is that?” Wistala asked.
“The thane will have you declared legally dead if you do not show yourself at least every five years. Of course, there are provisions, were you to be serving in the Hypatian forces, for your existence to be verified, but I mention it more in hopes of receiving visits from you than as a legal matter.”
“We come up the Old North Road every two or three years, in any case,” Ragwrist said.
“What would I do? Stand like an exhibited animal?”
“That would hardly pay for your food,” Ragwrist said. “Wistala, I will offer you the same terms all my other entertainers get. You pay me each new moon for your food and sheltering—”
“He only adds the smallest of surcharges,” Dsossa said.
“Ho!” Ragwrist said. “I take great trouble managing the supplies; I’ve yet to receive thanks for procuring palatable wine among the Vang Barbarians or those Pellatrian ascetics! But back to the deal: I receive a tenth-part of such coin as you acquire in your displays—”
“Fair warning,” Brok said. “If you keep three coins in ten out of his clutches after upkeep and surcharges, you’re doing very well!”
“If I’m such a scoundrel, I wonder why you’ve been with me these threescore years, my good dwarf?” Ragwrist asked.
“There are skimmers in all walks of life, but few do it with such pleasant smiles and compliments,” Brok replied.
“And I’ve a soft heart and softer head for honeyed words,” Dsossa added. “Being cheated by Ragwrist is painless.”
Ragwrist extended his arm and pointed to a patch at the elbow of his shirt. “Cheated! Do I look like a rich man? My teeth are worn down from biting off the ends of pencils to keep accurate track of expenses, and my voice grows hoarse haggling over quality of flour, all so my beautiful riders may keep flesh on breast and hip.”
“They would happily be spared your frequent evaluations of same,” Dsossa said.
“I will sympathize after I see the accounting books of the Diadem dwarves, who you yearly visit with chest-laden pony,” Brok said.
“This is the reward for generosity, Wistala!” Ragwrist said, turning to the young drakka. “Wild tales! Accusations.”
“How would I earn?” Wistala asked.
“A dragon is an attraction, certainly,” Ragwrist said, pulling his hair behind his elegantly shaped ears. “One so well-spoken even more so. But while your aspect inspires admiration, and later awe as you grow, we must marry that quality to a reliable moneymaker for you and the Circus at large.”
