The Warlock Wandering Read Online Free PDF Page B

suffice." The General smiled sadly. "However, I'm afraid P.E.S.T. bills would not be acceptable; the Wolmen don't have much faith in them."
    "I understand." Rod smiled. "Primitive cultures tend to be conservative."
    "Indeed." The keen glance again. "Well! In this case, the apology should consist of, ah..." Shacklar slipped a small leather-bound pad out of his pocket and flipped it open. "... five hundred kwahers."
    Rod stared. "Five... hundred..."
    Is the amount so great, my lord?
    Not unless you don't nave it. How are you at turning lead into gold, dear?
    A sudden, faraway look came into Gwen's eyes.
    The General was watching them carefully, but with his gentle smile. "I take it you find yourselves temporarily embarrassed?" The General smiled. "We can certainly arrange a temporary, interest-free loan. Master Gallowglass. There is a Bank of Wolmar, and it's solvent at the moment."
    "Oh, no! Money's never a problem with us. Uh—is it, Gwen?" Rod reached into the purse that hung at his belt. It held only a few Gramarye coins. The silver in them would be perfectly negotiable, but it might be a little difficult to explain Tuan's and Catharine's portraits.
    "Nay, money was never our care," Gwen agreed, giving him a sidelong glance. "Indeed, it hath been so long since I have seen it, that I quite forget the look of it!" Rod froze.
    He swallowed, hugely. Of course, Gwen couldn't know what I.D.E. bills looked like; she had never seen any money but Gramarye's.
    Come to think of it. Rod didn't know what they looked like, either. The I.D.E. government had fallen five hundred years before he was born. "On second thought, General, I think I will take you up on that offer. Could you let me have, say, a twenty-kwaher bill for, oh, about two minutes?" The General frowned, but reached for his wallet. "At least the interest won't be prohibitive." He passed Rod the bill.
    "Thanks very." Rod handed it to Gwen. "Yes, money. That's money, dear."
    Gwen stared, thunderstruck. "Paper, my lord? This is money?"
    "Uh, yes, dear." Gwen had never seen anything but coins, of course, medieval cultures having a rather elemental view of economics. "That's money. Here, anyway." Rod forced a grin. "Uh, sorry. General. We're not used to, ah, using cash, you know how it is."
    "Credit cards." The General nodded with understanding. Rod would've hated to shatter his illusions.
    "Now, I just had some, right here." Rod fumbled in the purse again; it was still mostly empty.
    "My lord," Gwen murmured, "I cannot..."
    "That's okay, dear, just try." Rod patted her hand. "Never know just how much you can do, until you give it a try ... I know... I had..." Rod dug in the purse as though it were a ten-mile pit, a bead of cold sweat trickling down his brow. Something rustled.
    His fingers touched paper. Lots of paper.
    He drew it out slowly, with a grin of relief. "There we are, General, twenty-five twenty-kwaher bills." He plucked the original from Gwen's numbed fingers. "Oh, and the one you loaned us, of course."
    The General's eyes widened slightly, but he accepted the cash without comment.
    "I don't like to carry large denominations," Rod explained.
    "But I thought you said..." Shacklar clamped his lips shut. "No, really. Not my affair at all..." He gave Rod the keen glance again. "Don't you find it troublesome to carry so many bills about?"
    "Well, yes," Rod admitted, "but there wasn't time to have them changed."
    32 Christopher Stasheff
    The General squared the bills into a neat stack. "I take it you left home in a bit of a hurry."
    "You might say that, yes."
    The General turned to step over to the lieutenant and the Scouting-Master, who broke out in an ear-to-ear grin and hurried over to seize Rod's hand, pumping it. "Glad you one of the good guys!"
    "Oh, my pleasure," Rod murmured. "Thanks for understanding." /
    "Sure, sure! Come outside Wall again, anytime!" The Scouting-Master crossed his arms and bowed, then turned away to the door the lieutenant was holding,