The Warded Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

his middle, and his iron-gray hair was creeping back from his lined forehead. He wore light trousers and leather shoes with a clean white cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his thick forearms. His white apron was spotless, as always.
    “Arlen Bales,” he said with a patient smile, seeing the boy. “Did you come just to play with the bell, or do you have some business?”
    “The business is mine,” Ragen said, stepping forward. “You Rusco Hog?”
    “Just Rusco will do,” the man said. “The townies slapped the ‘Hog’ on, though not to my face. Can’t stand to see a man prosper.”
    “That’s twice,” Ragen mused.
    “Say again?” Rusco said.
    “Twice that Graig’s journey log has led me astray,” Ragen said. “I called Selia ‘Barren’ to her face this morning.”
    “Ha!” Rusco laughed. “Did you now? Well, that’s worth a drink on the house, if anything is. What did you say your name was?”
    “Ragen,” the Messenger said, dropping his heavy satchel and taking a seat at the bar. Rusco tapped a keg, and plucked a slatted wooden mug off a hook.
    The ale was thick and honey-colored, and foamed to a whitehead atop the mug. Rusco filled one for Ragen and another for himself. Then he glanced at Arlen, and filled a smaller cup. “Take that to a table and let your elders talk at the bar,” he said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t tell your mum I gave it to you.”
    Arlen beamed, and ran off with his prize before Rusco had a chance to reconsider. He had snuck a taste of ale from his father’s mug at festivals, but had never had a cup of his own.
    “I was starting to worry no one was coming ever again,” he heard Rusco tell Ragen.
    “Graig took a chill just before he was to leave last fall,” Ragen said, drinking deeply. “His Herb Gatherer told him to put the trip off until he got better, but then winter set in, and he got worse and worse. In the end, he asked me to take his route until the guild could find another. I had to take a caravan of salt to Angiers anyway, so I added an extra cart and swung this way before heading back north.”
    Rusco took his mug and filled it again. “To Graig,” he said, “a fine Messenger, and a dangerous haggler.” Ragen nodded and the two men clapped mugs and drank.
    “Another?” Rusco asked, when Ragen slammed his mug back down on the bar.
    “Graig wrote in his log that you were a dangerous haggler, too,” Ragen said, “and that you’d try to get me drunk first.”
    Rusco chuckled, and refilled the mug. “After the haggling, I’ll have no need to serve these on the house,” he said, handing it to Ragen with a fresh head.
    “You will if you want your mail to reach Miln,” Ragen said with a grin, accepting the mug.
    “I can see you’re going to be as tough as Graig ever was,” Rusco grumbled, filling his own mug. “There,” he said, when it foamed over, “we can both haggle drunk.” They laughed, and clashed mugs again.
    “What news of the Free Cities?” Rusco asked. “The Krasians still determined to destroy themselves?”
    Ragen shrugged. “By all accounts. I stopped going to Krasia a few years ago, when I married. Too far, and too dangerous.”
    “So the fact that they cover their women in blankets has nothing to do with it?” Rusco asked.
    Ragen laughed. “Doesn’t help,” he said, “but it’s mostly howthey think all Northerners, even Messengers, are cowards for not spending our nights trying to get ourselves cored.”
    “Maybe they’d be less inclined to fight if they looked at their women more,” Rusco mused. “How about Angiers and Miln? The dukes still bickering?”
    “As always,” Ragen said. “Euchor needs Angiers’ wood to fuel his refineries, and grain to feed his people. Rhinebeck needs Miln’s metal and salt. They have to trade to survive, but instead of making it easy on themselves, they spend all their time trying to cheat each other, especially when a shipment is lost to