Devlin's Luck Read Online Free PDF Page B

had received, it seemed the suspicion was mutual. But if anyone was following him, they were too skilled for him to detect.
    Satisfied, he made through the stone streets of the old city, past the permanently open gates, and into the new city. In the merchants quarter he found the festival booths had given way to market stalls, and commerce was brisk. First he found a money changer, who agreed to exchange one of the gold disks for forty silver latts. It was outrageous, but better than explaining how someone dressed like a beggar had come by the gold disk in the first place.
    Next Devlin found a merchant who had clothing in his size. Devlin bargained for three shirts, two pairs of trousers, and a dark leather vest. At the merchant’s suggestion, he added a half dozen pairs of socks and a set of smalls to his tally. The merchant seemed surprised when Devlin produced a silver latt, easily worth a dozen times the cost of the goods, but after much muttering produced the necessary change in coppers.
    Flashing so much money was dangerous. He realized that he should have asked the money changer for some coppers to be mixed with the silver. Unused to such wealth, it simply hadn’t occurred to him. He kept a wary eye on the crowds, but no one seemed to be paying him any special interest. And the pair of city guards in their green uniforms patrolling the bazaar gave him hope that he would not be accosted immediately.
    He needed new boots even more than he needed new clothes, so Devlin took his time surveying the cobblers, passing by those whose displays showed cheap soles, thin leather, or sloppy stitching. Finally, he found one whose work seemed of good quality, and they struck a bargain for a pair of sturdy walking boots. The cobbler traced Devlin’s feet onto a square of parchment, and agreed to have new boots made up within two days. He offered to deliver them, but Devlin, having no wish to disclose that he was residing at the palace, said that he would return for them instead.
    As he went to leave, he saw that the cobbler had pouches that had been fashioned out of scraps of leather. They were too small to make proper purses, but would serve his purpose well. Devlin purchased three of them.
    On the edge of the bazaar an enterprising scribe had set up a booth. Devlin bargained for the use of a pen and three pieces of parchment. Apparently the skill of writing was not common in Jorsk, for the scribe appeared astonished as Devlin sat down and swiftly penned three short missives. Making sure he could not be overlooked, Devlin slipped three of the gold disks into the first pouch, then folded one of the parchment letters and placed it inside. He repeated this for the next two pouches. Then he pulled the strings tight and sealed the knots with wax.
    Leaving the puzzled scribe behind, Devlin made his way across the square. He hailed the two guards as they passed by.
    “Is there something wrong?” one of them asked.
    “No. But I need someone to point me in the direction of the merchants who deal with wool,” Devlin said. He had decided that the wool traders were his best bet. Trade with Duncaer was tightly controlled, and while there were other traders who journeyed between Duncaer and Jorsk, only the wool traders did so on a regular basis, seeking out the fine fleece that came from the mountain sheep. And with midsummer just past, the traders would soon be leaving on their annual journey.
    Hearing his accent, the two guards exchanged glances. One of them glanced down at Devlin’s hand, but Devlin had decided not to wear the Chosen’s seal. Still there was speculation in the guard’s eyes as he looked over Devlin and his sack of purchases.
    “Most of the wool merchants live on the street of the Fourth Alliance. I can tell you how to find it, or summon a guide for you. Sir.”
    Flames! There was no reason for them to call him sir. Not unless they knew that he was the Chosen One. A very good description of him must be circulating