Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(32)

"You may not have seen much," suggested Skiodra, before looking past Narliat to Nylan and then Gerlich. "Can she not speak for herself?"

"I... speak..." answered Ryba in Anglorat, "but not your words well."

"How do we know you speak the truth?" asked Skiodra. "This . . . minion . . . speaks well, but fine words are not truth. Nor do they buy goods."

"Does that matter?" asked Nylan. "You are traders. We would trade. If you insist..." He shrugged and turned to Gerlich. "Take out that crowbar, slowly, and show it to him ..."

A thin trader with a scar on his face and a mail vest showing through a tattered tunic scowled at the word "crowbar."

As Gerlich extended the hand - and - a - half blade, Skiodra's eyes widened.

"That... it is a great blade," he admitted.

"Put it away," commanded Ryba. "Just be ready." Without letting her eyes leave Skiodra, she said in an even voice to Nylan, "Tell him that he's dead meat if he tries anything funny, but that we can probably make him some credits or whatever they call it."

"You understand that, Narliat?" asked Nylan.

"Yes, ser." Narliat cleared his throat. "Most skillful trader . . . you have seen Lord Nessil's great blade. Lord Nessil came here with threescore armsmen. A dozen or less escaped with their lives . .."

"Why do you speak for them?"

Narliat looked down at the splint and raised his ruined hand. "What else would you have me do? They are angels, and who with wits would cross them?"

"I see no angels."

Ryba stepped back and raised her hand.

Hhsssttt!

A single flare of light flashed, and the top of the pole and the trading banner that had flown from it vanished. A few ash fragments drifted down around the Candarian traders.

Nylan tried not to wince at the power used in that quick burst.

Narliat gulped, but cleared his throat. "I did say they were angels."

Skiodra managed to keep his face calm. "Why would angels trade?"

"We could not bring everything we need with us," answered Nylan haltingly. "Do you not buy food when you travel?"

"You only want food?"

"Or something that provides food, like chickens."

"The great Skiodra does not deal in chickens, like some common . . . peasant. .."

"Let him offer what he has," suggested Ayrlyn. "Don't ask for anything."

Narliat glanced at Ryba, then Nylan. They nodded at Narliat.

"Noble Skiodra ... since my masters know not what you might have to offer, it might be best for you to show what you have."

"You might best do the same."

Narliat looked to Nylan, who nodded again.

"We will bring some goods," answered Narliat.

Skiodra lifted his hand, and the four carts began to wind their way up from the road at the bottom of the ridge.

Ryba turned and gestured. Four armed marines moved toward the piles of supplies near the top of the ridge.

Nylan looked westward to the darkening clouds that promised the first real rain since they had landed.

The first cart held barrels.

"That-the orange one," explained Narliat, "that is dried fruit from Kyphros. The white ones are flour. The seal means it was milled in Certis . . ."

"How much do they - generally run?" asked Ayrlyn.

Narliat glanced nervously from the redheaded comm officer to Skiodra, who cleared his throat.

Ryba put her hand on the hilt of the blade Nylan had laser-forged.

"Uh ... I couldn't be saying, ser, not exactly, since it'd depend on when Skiodra bought them and where."

"Three silvers for the flour and a five for the fruit," said Skiodra.

Narliat's eyes widened.

Nylan snorted. "That's about triple what the trader paid for them."

"You wish to travel to Kyphros to get them for yourself?" asked Skiodra.

"Excuse me," said Nylan. "Four times what he paid. Maybe five."

The slightest nod from Narliat confirmed his revised guess.

"So, the noble trader paid-what?-half a silver for each barrel of flour, and he wants three. Six times ... that's nice if you can get it." Nylan laughed.

"Ah ... my friend ... how would you pay for the feed for all those horses and men? It is not cheap to travel the Westhorns-and the flour, it came from Certis, and those fields are on the other side of the Easthorns . . ."

The engineer repressed a sigh. A long afternoon lay ahead, and the air was getting moister with the coming of the storm. "A half silver a barrel for your expenses, for each two barrels, I could see," he added. "That would be more ..."-he groped for the word-"fair."

"Fair? That would be ruin," declared Skiodra. "You mages, you think that because you can create something for nothing that every person can. Bah! Even two silvers a barrel would destroy me."

Narliat's eyes flicked back to Nylan.

"Such destroying ... that would buy you fine furs. Even a handful of..." He looked at Narliat.

"Coppers?"

"Coppers. Even two coppers in gain a barrel would make you the richest trader."

"I said you were a mage. That may be, but your father had to be a usurer. You would have my men eat hay, and my horses weeds. Even to open trading, as a gesture of good faith, at a silver and a half a barrel, I would have to sell the cloak off my back."