The Warded Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

silent for a moment, as was decent, then looked up at each other as one.
    “You have this year’s salt?” Rusco asked.
    “You have the duke’s rice?” Ragen replied.
    “Been holding it all winter, you being so late,” Rusco said.
    Ragen’s eyes narrowed.
    “Oh, it’s still good!” Rusco said, his hands coming up suddenly, as if pleading. “I’ve kept it sealed and dry, and there are no vermin in my cellar!”
    “I’ll need to be sure, you understand,” Ragen said.
    “Of course, of course,” Rusco said. “Arlen, fetch that lamp!” he ordered, pointing the boy toward the corner of the bar.
    Arlen scurried over to the lantern, picking up the striker. He lit the wick and lowered the glass reverently. He had never been trusted to hold glass before. It was colder than he imagined, but quickly grew warm as the flame licked it.
    “Carry it down to the cellar for us,” Rusco ordered. Arlen tried to contain his excitement. He had always wanted to see behind the bar. They said if everyone in the Brook put all their possessions in one pile, it would not rival the wonders of Hog’s cellar.
    He watched as Rusco pulled a ring on his floor, opening a wide trap. Arlen came forward quickly, worried old Hog would change his mind. He went down the creaking steps, holding the lantern high to illuminate the way. As he did, the light touched on stacks of crates and barrels from floor to ceiling, running in even rows stretching back past the edges of the light. The floor was wooden to prevent corelings from rising directly into the cellar from the Core, but there were still wards carved into the racks along the walls. Old Hog was careful with his treasures.
    The storekeeper led the way through the aisles to the sealed barrels in the back. “They look unspoiled,” Ragen said, inspecting the wood. He considered a moment, then chose at random. “That one,” he said, pointing to a barrel.
    Rusco grunted and hauled out the barrel in question. Some people called his work easy, but his arms were as hard and thickas any that swung an axe or scythe. He broke the seal and popped the top off the barrel, scooping rice into a shallow pan for Ragen to inspect.
    “Good Marsh rice,” he told the Messenger, “and not a weevil to be seen, nor sign of rot. This will fetch a high price in Miln, especially after so long.” Ragen grunted and nodded, so the cask was resealed and they returned upstairs.
    They argued for some time over how many barrels of rice the heavy sacks of salt on the cart were worth. In the end, neither of them seemed happy, but they shook hands on the deal.
    Rusco called his daughters, and they all went out to the cart to begin unloading the salt. Arlen tried lifting a bag, but it was far too heavy, and he staggered and fell, dropping it.
    “Be careful!” Dasy scolded, slapping the back of his head.
    “If you can’t lift, then get the door!” Catrin barked. She herself had one sack over her shoulder and another tucked under her meaty arm. Arlen scrambled to his feet and rushed to hold the portal for her.
    “Fetch Ferd Miller and tell him we’ll pay five … make it four credits for every sack he grinds,” Rusco told Arlen. Most everyone in the Brook worked for Hog, one way or another, but the Squarefolk most of all. “Five if he packs it in barrels with rice to keep it dry.”
    “Ferd is off in the Cluster,” Arlen said. “Most everyone is.”
    Rusco grunted, but did not reply. Soon enough the cart was empty, save for a few boxes and sacks that did not contain salt. Rusco’s daughters eyed those hungrily, but said nothing.
    “We’ll carry the rice up from the cellar tonight and keep it in the back room until you’re ready to head back to Miln,” Rusco said, when the last sack was hauled inside.
    “Thank you,” Ragen said.
    “The duke’s business is done, then?” Rusco asked with a grin, his eyes flicking knowingly to the remaining items on the cart.
    “The duke’s business, yes,” Ragen said,