Stone of Tears (66 page)

The wizard paused next to the booth with the single man. He held up the pot and cups.

“I have more tea than I can drink. Could I share it with you?”

The man watched with a forbidding scowl from under bushy eyebrows. Zedd smiled. The man did indeed smell like a horse. He unfolded his huge arms, slid the coiled whip to the side of the table, and pointed for Zedd to sit before folding his arms again.

“Well, delighted, thank you. I’m … Ruben.”

Zedd tossed his hat on the table and lifted his eyebrows in invitation to reply.

“Ahern,” he said, in a deep, resonate voice. “What do you want?”

Zedd placed his cane between his knees with one hand and with the other tugged at the heavy robes as he sat on the bench, trying to pull a thick fold from under his bony bottom. “Well, I just wanted to share my tea, Ahern.”

“What do you want?”

Zedd poured the man tea. “I thought perhaps you might need some work.”

“Got work.”

Zedd poured tea for himself. “Really? What sort?”

Ahern unfolded his arms and sat back in the booth, appraising his new table companion’s eyes, and nothing else. He wore a longcoat draped around his massive shoulders, over a dark green flannel shirt. His thick, mostly gray hair was long enough to nearly cover his ears, and looked to be infrequently pestered by a comb. His deeply creased, weather worn face was splotched with pink, windburned patches.

“Why do you want to know?”

Zedd shrugged as he took a sip of tea. “So I can gauge if I can make you a better offer.” Zedd, of course, could produce any amount of gold the man could ask for, but judged that not to be the best tack. He took another sip of tea as he waited.

“I haul iron from Tristen, down here to the smiths in Penverro. Sometimes over to Winstead. We Keltans make the finest weapons in all the Midlands, you know.”

“I heard differently.” Ahern’s frown darkened. Zedd folded his hands over the silver topped cane. “I hear them to be the finest swords in all the three lands, not just the Midlands.” The bard started a new song about a king who lost his voice and had to command by written instruction, but had never allowed any of his subjects to learn to read, and so lost his kingdom, too. “Heavy loads to haul, this time of year.”

Ahern gave the slightest hint of a smile. “Worse in the spring. In the muck. Then’s the time we find out who can drive, and who can talk.”

Zedd pushed the full cup a few inches closer to the man. “Steady work?”

Ahern finally took up the cup. “Enough to keep me fed.”

Zedd lifted one coil of the braided leather. “I thought you looked to be a man familiar with the use of this.”

“There’s different ways to get effort from a team.” He pointed with his chin in the general direction of the room “These fools think they get what they want by laying to with the whip.”

“And you don’t?”

Ahern shook his head. “I crack my whip to get their attention, to let them know what I want, where to put their feet. My team works for me because I trained them to work, not because they get the whip. If I’m in a tight spot, I want a team that understands what I want, not one that jumps when they feel a whip. There are enough gorges strewn with bones of man and horse. Don’t want to add mine to the lot.”

“Sounds like you know your work.”

Ahern gestured with his cup to Zedd’s elaborate robes. “What line of ‘work’ you in?”

“Orchards,” Zedd said, pointing a finger skyward. “The finest fruits in all the world, sir!”

Ahern grunted. “You mean you own land, and others work to grow you the finest fruits in all the world.”

Zedd chuckled. “You have it true. Now, anyway. It didn’t start that way, though. I started by myself, working, struggling, for years. Tending my trees day and night, trying to produce the best fruit anyone ever tasted. Many of the trees failed. Many times I failed, and went hungry.

“But I finally was able to do better. I saved every copper, and bought more land in the years I could. Planted, tended, picked, hauled, and sold it all by myself. Over time, people came to know my fruit as the best, and I became more successful. In the last few years, I’ve hired people to tend things for me. But I still keep my hand to the work, so that it lives up to what people know me for. Would you hope for any less success, in your work?”

Zedd sat back, smiling, proud of the story he had just invented on the spot. Ahern held out his cup for more tea.

“Where are these orchards?”

“In Westland. Moved there before the boundary went up.”

“And why are you here now?”

Zedd leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Well, you see, my wife is not doing well. We are both old, and now that the boundary is down, she wants to visit her homeland. She knows healers there who may be able to help her. I’d do anything to help that woman. She’s too sick to travel on horseback any longer, what with this weather, so, I’d like to hire someone to take us to her healers. I’d pay any price, any price I can afford, to get her there.”

Ahern’s face softened, somewhat. “Sounds a fair enough journey. Where do you be headed?”

“Nicobarese.”

Ahern slammed his cup down on the table. Some of the tea sloshed out. “What!” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, the table’s edge pressing into his husky middle. “It’s the dead of winter, man!”

Zedd ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “I thought you said spring was the worst.”

Ahern grunted with a suspicious glare. “That’s back northwest, the other side of the Rang’Shada mountains. If you came from Westland, to go to Nicobarese, why would you cross the Rang’Shada first? Now you just have to cross it back again.”

Zedd was caught off guard, and had to scramble to find an answer. At last he did. “I’m from up near Aydindril. We were going to go there for a visit to my homeland, before we went in the spring to Nicobarese. I thought to cross the mountains to the south, then go northeast to Aydindril. But Elda, that’s my wife, she took sick, and I decided that, well, it would be better we go see her healers.”

“You would have been better off to have gone to Nicobarese first, before you crossed the mountains.”

Zedd folded his hands over his cane. “So, Ahern, do you know how to undo something done in error, so I may relive my life as you suggest?”

Ahern grunted a laugh. “Guess not.” He thought a moment, finally giving a tired sigh. “I’ll tell you, Ruben, it’s a long way. You’re asking for trouble. I don’t know that I want any part of it.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “Really?” He made a deliberate survey of the room. “Tell me then, Ahern, if you find the task so formidable, which of these men here would be up to the job? Which are better drivers than you?”

Ahern regarded the crowd with a sour look. “I’m not saying I’m the best there is, but this lot’s more boast than brains. Don’t think there’s a one of them that would make it.”

Zedd shifted irritably on his bench. “Ahern, I think you are simply trying to boost price.”

“And I think you are trying to lower it.”

Zedd let his slightest smile touch his lips. “I don’t think it as difficult a job as you make it.”

Ahern’s frown returned. “You think it easy?”

Zedd shrugged. “You drive in the winter now. I simply want you to drive in a different direction, that’s all.”

Ahern leaned forward, his jaw muscles tightening. “Well, the direction you want to go in is trouble! First of all, there are rumors of civil war in Nicobarese. Worse, the shortest way, unless you want to spend weeks going to the passes far to the south, is across Galea.”

His voice lowered. “There is trouble between Galea and Kelton. I hear tell there is fighting along the border. Keltish towns have been sacked. The people here in Penverro are nervous, what with being so close to the border with Galea. It’s all the talk. Going into Galea is sure trouble.”

“Fighting? Wagging tongues of gossips. The war is ended. The D’Haran troops have been called home.”

Ahern slowly shook his head. “Not D’Haran raids. Galean.”

“Piffle!” Zedd snapped. “Keltans think it’s a Galean attack every time a farmer knocks a lantern over and a barn catches fire, and the Galeans see Keltans every time a lamb is taken by wolves. I’d like to have the price of all the arrows that have been shot into shadows.” He shook a finger at the man. “If either Kelton or Galea were to attack the other, the Central Council would have the heads of those who spoke the orders, no matter who they were!” He thumped his cane. “It would not be allowed!”

Ahern shrank back a little. “I don’t know anything about politics, and less about those wicked Confessors. I just know that going through Galea can get a man shot full of arrows coming out of those shadows. What you want is not as easy as you think.”

Zedd was tiring of the game. He didn’t have time for this. Something Adie had said was nagging at the back of his brain. Something about light. Deciding to resolve the discussion one way or the other, he drained his tea in one gulp.

“Thank you for conversation, Ahern. But I can see you are not the man able to get me to Nicobarese.”

He rose, reaching for his hat. Ahern laid a big paw on Zedd’s arm and urged him down. He squirmed forward on his bench.

“Look, Ruben, times have been hard. The war with D’Hara disrupted trade. Kelton was spared the brunt of the war, but many of our neighbors were not. It’s hard to trade with dead people. There is not as much cargo as there used to be, but we still have more than enough men wanting to haul. You can’t blame a fellow for trying to get his best price when an opportunity comes along.” His eyebrows lifted as he leaned in a little more. “Trying to get the best price for the best fruit, as it were.”

“Best fruit indeed.” Zedd gave an impatient wave of his hand toward the room. “Any one of these men will gladly offer to hire out. Any one of them can offer me a boastful story just as good as yours, as to why they would be the best driver. You’re working up to asking top price. That’s fair enough, but stop playing games with me, Ahern. I want to know why I should pay it.”

With the tip of one thick finger, Ahern slid his cup to the middle of the table, indicating he wanted a refill. Zedd smoothed out his sleeves before obliging him. Ahern drew his cup into the protective shroud of his big arms as he leaned in. He glanced around the room.

Everyone was watching the bard sing a love song to one of the serving girls. He was holding her hand, singing words of eternal devotion. The girl’s face was red. She held her tray behind her back with her other hand as she studied her feet and giggled.

Ahern extracted a chain with a silver medallion from under his green, flannel shirt. “The reason I want top price is because of this.”

Zedd frowned down his nose at the regal image on the medallion. “That looks to be Galean.”

Ahern gave a single nod. “In the spring and summer, D’Hara laid siege to Ebinissia. The Galeans were slowly being choked to death, and no one would help them. Everyone had troubles of their own, with the D’Harans, and didn’t want a piece of theirs. The people there needed weapons.

“I took loads of weapons, and some badly needed salt, up through some of the more isolated passes. The Galean guard had offered to escort any who would risk the run, but few took the offer. Those back passes are treacherous.”

Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “Very noble of you.”

“Nothing noble to it. They paid handsomely. I just didn’t like to see them folks trapped like that. Especially knowing what D’Haran soldiers do to those they vanquish. Anyway, I reasoned that some Keltish swords might give them a better chance to defend themselves, that’s all. Like I said, we make the best.”

Zedd lifted a hand from where it was folded over his cane, and gestured to the medallion, now back under Ahern’s shirt. “So what is that about?”

“After the siege was lifted, I was called before the Galean Court. Queen Cyrilla herself gave this to me. She said I had helped her people defend themselves, and I was always welcome in Galea.” He tapped his chest, where the medallion hung under his shirt. “This is a royal pass. It says I may go anywhere I wish in Galea, unhindered.”

“And so now,” Zedd said, looking up from under his eyebrows, “you wish to put a price on something that is priceless.”

Ahern’s eyes narrowed. “What I did was a small bit; they bore the brunt of the hardship. I helped those people because they needed help, and because I was paid well. I’m not claiming to be a hero. I did it for both reasons. I wouldn’t have done it for one alone. Now I have this pass, and if it will help me to make a living, well I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Zedd leaned back. “You are right, Ahern. The Galeans, after all, put a price in gold to your work for them. I shall, too, if I can. Name your price to take us to Nicobarese.”

The tea cup looked tiny in Ahern’s big hands as he rolled it back and forth. “Thirty gold. Not one less.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “My, my. Don’t we think a lot of ourselves.”

“I can get us there, and that’s my price. Thirty gold.”

“Twenty now, ten more when you get us to Aydindril.”

“Aydindril! You never said anything about Aydindril. I don’t want anything to do with Aydindril, with their wizards and Confessors. Besides, we’d have to cross the Rang’Shada again!”

“You will have to cross anyway to come back here. So you cross in the north. It’s hardly out of your way. If you don’t like the offer, then I’ll offer twenty to take us to Nicobarese, and I’m sure I can find someone there more that willing to take us to Aydindril for the other ten, if we even need carriage after my wife is healed. If you want all thirty, then I’ll commit to it now, if you agree to take us all the way. That’s my offer.”

Ahern rolled his cup back and forth. “All right. To Aydindril. Twenty now, ten in Aydindril.” He pointed a meaty finger in Zedd’s direction. “But you have to agree to one condition.”

“Such as?”

Ahern’s finger moved, to point at Zedd’s red hat. “You can’t wear that hat. That feather will spook the horses sure.”

Zedd’s wrinkly cheeks spread in a grin. “One condition of my own, then.” Ahern cocked his head. “
You
have to tell my wife that it is
your
condition.”