Mother of Eden Read Online Free PDF Page B

than all our eight boats.
    “Eighty sticks,” the trader repeated.
    The young man just laughed.
    “It’s those Johnfolk from across the Pool,” muttered a man behind us. “Ring-stealers. I don’t know why Strongheart lets them come over here.”
    “That’s the reason right there in his hand,” a woman observed sourly.
    She hadn’t meant for the man in the three-colored wrap to hear her, but he did, and he looked round at her and laughed.
    “It is the reason,” he said, “but this guy here doesn’t seem to know that.”
    “Ninety sticks,” the trader muttered grudgingly.
    “You’re having a joke with me, buddy,” the young man said, glancing back at us again and giving us, and specially Starlight, another wink. “I’ll take a hundred and twenty, but even that’s way less than it’s worth.”
    I noticed now that the brooch that held his wrap together at his throat was made of the same red metal, polished to a shine and with a smooth blue stone set in it. The men with him had badges made of the stuff—they were circles with triangles inside—and their spears had long metal tips. No way could you cut blackglass into a shape like that. It would shatter the first time it was used.
    So the stories were true. There was metal in the ground of Eden as well as in the ground of Earth. And John Redlantern hadn’t drowned. And Gela’s ring wasn’t lying on the bottom of Deep Darkness. I felt a strange, dark dread. What else would change? What else would come bubbling back up from the past?
    “Metal’s not trading for as much as it did when you guys first came over,” the trader said stubbornly.
    “Possibly, possibly. But I’m not asking you for two hundred, am I? I’m asking for one hundred twenty. You know I could get a hundred fifty at least if I could be bothered to walk round all the other traders.”
    The trader pursed his lips for a second or two, then nodded, took the lump of metal, and reached under his table to bring out twenty-four of the notched lengths of wood.
    “Thank you, my friend,” said the red-haired man, handing the sticks over to one of the men with him.
    Then he laughed. He knew his own power. He knew he was fascinating. He knew he was protected by two fighting men with metal-tipped spears. And he knew that among the little crowd that had gathered round was a beautiful young woman, watching everything he did with shining shining eyes.
    He reached out again toward the bag of sticks his companion was holding for him and took some sticks back out. Then he made a little bow to Starlight and put them in her hands. There was a gasp from all the people watching, Kneefolk and Veeklehouse folk alike.
    “You have these,” he said to her, closing Starlight’s hand around the sticks with his own. “Trade them for some colored wraps and rings. You’re pretty pretty, prettier than anyone I’ve ever seen, but plain buckskin doesn’t do you justice, if you don’t mind me saying.” He smiled and winked, a wink for Starlight alone. He was really noticing her now. “My name is Greenstone,” he said. “Greenstone Johnson. See you later, I hope.”
    And then, with a bow to Dixon, Delight, Angie, and me, he turned and walked away, his two companions hurrying behind him with their metal-tipped spears.
    Starlight looked down at her hand. There were five pieces of wood there, with five notches on each, exactly the same as we’d just been offered for those eight ten-foot boats that had taken us forty wakings to make, and nine hard wakings to bring here.
    “You can look after these, Uncle Dix,” she muttered. “Put them together with what we get for the boats.”
    Dixon nodded stiffly as he took them.
    “Jeff’s twisted feet, Uncle Dix!” Starlight’s eyes filled suddenly with tears. “Would you have preferred me to refuse them?”
    “I’m not   ...” began Dixon. “I’m not   ...”
    He looked across at me, hoping I’d know what he wanted to say.
    “Your uncle’s not cross with