Stone of Tears

Chapter 34

Warm air ascended the stairs from the dining room along with the buzz of the packed room. The aroma of roasting meats drifted in from the kitchen to mix pleasantly with the sweet tang of pipe smoke. Zedd rubbed his stomach as he descended the stairs, wondering if he might spare the time to sample a plate.

On the landing sat a tall basket holding three canes. Zedd pulled the most ornate, a straight black cane with an elaborate head worked in silver, from the basket. He tapped the flamboyant cane on the wood landing, testing its length and heft. Seemed a tad heavy, he thought, but it would do as a proper accessory.

The proprietor, Master Hillman, a rotund man with his white shirtsleeves rolled up above his dimpled elbows and wearing a sparkling white apron, spied him as he reached the bottom of the steps and immediately rushed across the room, shoving men out of his way. The man’s round, pink cheeks plumped out farther as his small mouth spread with a familiar grin.

“Master Rybnik! So good to see you again!”

Zedd almost turned to see to whom the man was speaking before he remembered that was the name he had given. He had told the innkeeper that his name was Ruben Rybnik, and had given Adie’s name as Elda, saying she was his wife. Zedd had always favored the name Ruben. Ruben. He rolled the sound pleasantly through his mind. Ruben.

“Please, Master Hillman, call me Ruben.”

The man’s head bobbed. “Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course.”

Zedd held out the cane. “I find I have need of a cane, of late. Could I convince you to part with this one?”

The man opened his arms in a wide gesture. “For you, Master Rybnik, anything. My nephew makes them, and I let him display them here for my discriminating guests. But this one is special, and costly.” He came forward at Zedd’s skeptical expression, lifting the cane. He leaned close to speak confidentially. “Let me demonstrate, Master Rybnik. I don’t show this to anyone. Might give them the wrong impression of my establishment, you know. Here. You see? You twist, and here at the silver band, it comes open.”

He separated the two parts a few inches to reveal a gleaming blade. “Nearly two feet of Keltish steel. Discreet protection for a gentleman. But I’m not sure that for your simple purposes you would want such a costly . . .”

Zedd pushed the thin blade away and gave a twist, the finely worked mechanism emitting a soft click as the parts locked together. “It will do nicely. I like its looks. Not too flashy. Add the cost to my tally for the room.” Wealthy gentlemen weren’t supposed to ask the price.

Master Hillman bowed his head up and down. “Of course, Master Rybnik. Of course. And a fine choice, I might add. Quite dashing.” He wiped his clean, meaty hands on the apron’s corner and then held an arm out to the room. “May I offer you a table, Master Rybnik? Let me clear a table for you. I will have someone move. Let me see to it . . .”

“No, no.” Zedd gestured with his new cane. “That empty one in the corner, near the kitchen, will do splendidly.”

The man looked with worry to where Zedd had pointed. “There? Oh no, sir, please, let me get you a better table. Perhaps near the bard. You would like to hear a lively tune, I’m sure. He knows any tune you could name. Let me know your favorite and I will have him play it for you.”

Zedd leaned close and gave the man a wink. “I much prefer the wonderful aromas coming from your kitchen to the singing.”

Master Hillman beamed with pride and then swept his arm in the direction of the empty table, ushering Zedd toward it. “You do me such honor, Master Rybnik. I have never had anyone swoon over my cooking as do you. Let me get you a plate.”

“Ruben, please. Remember? And I would be delighted to sample a slice of that roast I smell.”

“Yes, Master Rybnik, of course.” Wringing the corner of his apron, he leaned over the table as Zedd sat against the wall. “How is Mistress Rybnik? I hope she is feeling better. I pray for her every day.”

Zedd sighed. “Much the same, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. I’m so sorry. I’ll continue to pray for her.” He started through the kitchen door. “Let me get you that plate of roast.”

Zedd leaned his new cane against the wall and removed his hat after the man had left, tossing it on the table. The balding bard sat on a stool on a small platform, hunched over his lute as if permanently deformed around it, strumming with vigor and singing a spirited song about the adventures of a wagon driver; his journey along bad roads from one bad town to another with bad food and worse women, and how he loved the challenge of steep hills and twisting passes, driving rain and blinding snow.

Zedd watched one man, alone in a booth against the wall across the room, roll his eyes and shake his head as he listened to one improbable adventure after another. A whip lay in a neat coil on the table before him. Other men, at tables, thought the song a proper tale, and thumped their mugs as they sang along. Some of the drunker men tried to pinch the smiling serving girls that swept past, but caught only air.

At other tables sat nattily dressed men and women, probably merchants and their wives, talking among themselves and ignoring the singing. Fashionable nobility, wearing gleaming swords, sat at a few tables off to the quieter side of the room. In an empty area between the bard and the lone man in the booth, couples danced; some were serving girls and men who had paid them for the turn. Zedd noted with pique that while there were many men with hats, all the hats looked to be functional, and none were embellished with a feather.

Zedd reached into a pocket to count the gold coins. Two. He sighed. It was expensive playing the part of the wealthy. He didn’t know how even the wealthy could afford it. Well, he would just have to do something about that if he was to get transportation all the way to Nicobarese. He couldn’t have Adie riding that horse anymore; she was too weak.

Springing on light feet, Master Hillman swooped through the kitchen door. He set a gold-rimmed white plate heaped with roasted lamb in front of Zedd, pausing before he straightened to return a finger to each edge of the plate and turn it just so. Quickly producing a clean towel, he buffed a spot off the tabletop. Zedd decided that although he was hungry, he had better eat carefully, lest Master Hillman whisk out to wipe his chin for him.

“May I bring you a mug of ale, Master Rybnik? On the house?”

“Please call me Ruben, that’s my name. A pot of tea would be splendid.”

“Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. Anything else I could do? Besides the pot of tea?”

Zedd leaned a little toward the center of the table. Master Hillman did the same. “What’s the current gold to silver exchange ratio?”

“Forty point five five to one,” he answered, ticking the numbers off without hesitation. He cleared his throat. “I believe. At least, that’s what I seem to remember.” He smiled apologetically. “I don’t keep track. But that’s what I believe it is. Forty point five five to one. Yes, I think that’s right.”

Zedd made a show of considering this. At last he pulled out one of his two gold coins and slid it with one finger across the table toward the proprietor.

“I seem to be short of smaller coinage. If you would be so kind, could you exchange this for me? And I would like it divided into two purses. From one take one silver and exchange it for copper, and put that in a third purse. And please keep the odd bits for the house?”

Master Hillman gave two quick, deep bows. “Of course, Master Rybnik, of course. And thank you.”

He swept the coin off the table so fast Zedd could scarcely see it go. After he left, Zedd dug into the lamb roast, watching the people and listening to the singing as he chewed. Near the end of the meal, Master Hillman was back, placing his broad, round back between Zedd and the crowd.

He set two small purses on the table. “The silver, Master Rybnik. Nineteen in the light brown one, and twenty in the dark.” Zedd slipped them into his robes as the other set a heavier, green purse down, sliding it across the table. And the copper in this.”

Zedd smiled his thanks. “And the tea?”

The big man slapped his forehead. “Forgive me. In handling the exchange, I forgot.” One of the noblemen was waving a hand, trying to get his attention. He snagged the arm of a serving girl coming from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. “Julie! Fetch Master Rybnik a pot of tea. And quickly, dear.” She gave Zedd a smile and a nod before rushing on with her tray. Smiling, Hillman turned back. “Julie will see to it, Master Rybnik. If there is anything else I can do, please ask.”

“Why, yes. You could call me Ruben.”

Master Hillman chuckled absently and nodded. “Of course, Master Rybnik, of course.” He rushed off toward the nobleman.

Zedd cut another piece of lamb and stabbed it with his fork. He liked the name Ruben. He shouldn’t have told the man any more of it than that. While he pulled the meat off the tines with his teeth, he watched Julie cross the room, weaving between the crowded tables.

He chewed as he watched her plunk down mugs around a table of raucous men all wearing longcoats. As she set the last one before the last man, he said something to her. She had to lean over to hear above the din. The men suddenly burst into laughter. Julie straightened and thumped the man on the head with her tray. As she strutted away, he pinched her. She yelped but hurried on.

As she went past Zedd’s table, she leaned toward him and smiled. “I’ll be getting your tea for you right now, Master Rybnik.”

“It’s Ruben.” He flicked a finger toward the table of noisy men. “I saw what happened. Do you have to put up with that all the time?”

“Oh, that’s just Oscar. He’s harmless, for the most part. But he has the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard my share. Sometimes, I wish that when he opened his mouth to spew some of his filthy talk at me, he’d get the hiccups instead.” She huffed a wisp of hair back off her face. “And now he wants another mug. I’m sorry. I talk too much. I’ll get your tea, Master Ryb . . .”

“Ruben.”

“Ruben.” She gave him a pretty smile before hurrying off.

Eating while he waited, Zedd watched the table of noisy men. A small wish. What could it hurt? Julie returned with the tea and a cup. As she set them on the table, Zedd crooked his finger, urging her to bend closer.

She leaned over, tightening the apron strings behind her back as she did. “Yes, Ruben?”

The wizard gently touched a finger to the underside of her chin. “You are a very lovely woman, Julie. Oscar shouldn’t speak to you in foul language, or touch you again.” His voice lowered to a slow, powerful whisper that almost seemed to make the air sparkle. “When you give him his ale, speak his name, and look him in the eyes, as I look into yours now, and you shall have your wish as you have spoken it to me, but you won’t remember asking it, or that I have granted it.”

Julie blinked as she straightened. “I’m sorry, Ruben, what did you say?”

Zedd smiled. “I said thank you for the tea, and I asked if anyone here has a team of horses, and perhaps a carriage for hire.”

She blinked again. “Oh. Well . . .” She looked around as she pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. “Half the men in here, well, half the men who aren’t dressed as fine as you, are drivers. Some hire out. Some haul freight and are regulars, just passing through.” She pointed at a few tables. “They . . . and they, might hire out. If you can sober them up.”

Zedd thanked her and she went to get the ale. He watched as she carried it back across the room and set it in front of Oscar. He leered up at her with a drunken grin. She stared into his eyes. Zedd saw her lips speak his name. Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but hiccupped instead. A bubble floated from his mouth, up into the air. It popped. Everyone at the table erupted in laughter. Zedd’s brow pulled together in a frown as he watched. That’s odd, he thought.

Every time Oscar opened his mouth to speak to Julie, he hiccupped, and bubbles floated up. The men roared with laughter, accusing her of soaping his ale. They all agreed that if she had, it would serve him right. She left the men to their laughter when the lone man in the booth caught her attention. She nodded after he asked for something and then headed for the kitchen.

Julie paused at Zedd’s table, giving a nod back toward the lone man. “He might have a team. He smells more like a horse than a man.” She giggled. “That wasn’t kind. Forgive me. It’s just that I can’t get him to spend any money on ale. He wants me to bring him some tea.”

“I have more than I can drink. I’ll go share mine with him.” He winked at her. “Save you a trip.”

“Thanks, Ruben. Here’s another cup, then.”

Zedd put the last large piece of roast in his mouth as he surveyed the room. The men had quieted down, and Oscar had stopped hiccupping, as they all listened to the bard singing a sad song about a man who had lost his love.

Zedd picked up the teapot and cups, and started from his table. He cursed under his breath when he remembered his hat, and swept it up, noticing the cane and snatching that up, too. He deliberately passed close to Oscar, looking him over carefully. He couldn’t figure out why he had hiccupped bubbles. Zedd gave a mental shrug. The man seemed normal enough, now, if a little too drunk.

The wizard paused next to the booth with the single man. He held up the pot and cups.

“I have more tea than I can drink. Could I share it with you?”

The man watched with a forbidding scowl from under bushy eyebrows. Zedd smiled. The man did indeed smell like a horse. He unfolded his huge arms, slid the coiled whip to the side of the table, and pointed for Zedd to sit before folding his arms again.

“Well, delighted, thank you. I’m . . . Ruben.”

Zedd tossed his hat on the table and lifted his eyebrows in invitation to reply.

“Ahern,” he said, in a deep, resonant voice. “What do you want?”

Zedd placed his cane between his knees with one hand and with the other tugged at the heavy robes as he sat on the bench, trying to pull a thick fold from under his bony bottom. “Well, I just wanted to share my tea, Ahern.”

“What do you really want?”

Zedd poured the man tea. “I thought perhaps you might need some work.”

“Got work.”

Zedd poured tea for himself. “Really? What sort?”

Ahern unfolded his arms and sat back in the booth, appraising his new table companion’s eyes, and nothing else. He wore a longcoat draped around his massive shoulders, over a dark green flannel shirt. His thick, mostly gray hair was long enough to nearly cover his ears, and looked to be infrequently pestered by a comb. His deeply creased, weatherworn face was splotched with pink, windburned patches.

“Why do you want to know?”

Zedd shrugged as he took a sip of tea. “So I can gauge if I can make you a better offer.” Zedd, of course, could produce any amount of gold the man could ask for, but judged that not to be the best tack. He took another sip of tea as he waited.

“I haul iron from Tristen, down here to the smiths in Penverro. Sometimes over to Winstead. We Keltans make the finest weapons in all the Midlands, you know.”

“I heard differently.” Ahern’s frown darkened. Zedd folded his hands over the silver-topped cane. “I hear them to be the finest swords in all the three lands, not just the Midlands.” The bard started a new song about a king who lost his voice and had to command by written instruction, but had never allowed any of his subjects to learn to read, and so lost his kingdom, too. “Heavy loads to haul, this time of year.”

Ahern gave the slightest hint of a smile. “Worse in the spring. In the muck. Then’s the time we find out who can drive, and who can talk.”

Zedd pushed the full cup a few inches closer to the man. “Steady work?”

Ahern finally took up the cup. “Enough to keep me fed.”

Zedd lifted one coil of the braided leather. “I thought you looked to be a man familiar with the use of this.”

“There’s different ways to get effort from a team.” He pointed with his chin in the general direction of the room. “These fools think they get what they want by laying to with the whip.”

“And you don’t?”

Ahern shook his head. “I crack my whip to get their attention, to let them know what I want, where to put their feet. My team works for me because I trained them to work, not because they get the whip. If I’m in a tight spot, I want a team that understands what I want, not one that jumps when they feel a whip. There are enough gorges strewn with bones of man and horse. Don’t want to add mine to the lot.”

“Sounds like you know your work.”

Ahern gestured with his cup to Zedd’s elaborate robes. “What line of ‘work’ you in?”

“Orchards,” Zedd said, pointing a finger skyward. “The finest fruits in all the world, sir!”

Ahern grunted. “You mean you own land, and others work to grow you the finest fruits in all the world.”

Zedd chuckled. “You have it true. Now, anyway. It didn’t start that way, though. I started by myself, working, struggling, for years. Tending my trees day and night, trying to produce the best fruit anyone ever tasted. Many of the trees failed. Many times I failed, and went hungry.

“But I finally was able to do better. I saved every copper, and bought more land in the years I could. Planted, tended, picked, hauled, and sold it all by myself. Over time, people came to know my fruit as the best, and I became more successful. In the last few years, I’ve hired people to tend things for me. But I still keep my hand to the work, so that it lives up to what people know me for. Would you hope for any less success, in your work?”

Zedd sat back, smiling, proud of the story he had just invented on the spot. Ahern held out his cup for more tea.

“Where are these orchards?”

“In Westland. Moved there before the boundary went up.”

“And why are you here now?”

Zedd leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Well, you see, my wife is not doing well. We’re both old, and now that the boundary is down, she wants to visit her homeland. She knows healers there who may be able to help her. I’d do anything to help that woman. She’s too sick to travel on horseback any longer, what with this weather, so I’d like to hire someone to take us to her healers. I’d pay any price, any price I can afford, to get her there.”

Ahern’s face softened, somewhat. “Sounds a fair enough journey. Where do you be headed?”

“Nicobarese.”

Ahern slammed his cup down on the table. Some of the tea sloshed out. “What!” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, the table’s edge pressing into his husky middle. “It’s the dead of winter, man!”

Zedd ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “I thought you said spring was the worst.”

Ahern grunted with a suspicious glare. “That’s back northwest, the other side of the Rang’Shada Mountains. If you came from Westland, to go to Nicobarese, why would you cross the Rang’Shada first? Now you just have to cross it back again.”

Zedd was caught off guard, and had to scramble to find an answer. At last he did. “I’m from up near Aydindril. We were going to go there for a visit to my homeland, before we went in the spring to Nicobarese. I thought to cross the mountains to the south, then go northeast to Aydindril. But Elda, that’s my wife, she took sick, and I decided that, well, it would be better we go see her healers.”

“You would have been better off to have gone to Nicobarese first, before you crossed the mountains.”

Zedd folded his hands over his cane. “So, Ahern, do you know how to undo something done in error, so I may relive my life as you suggest?”

Ahern grunted a laugh. “Guess not.” He thought a moment, finally letting out a tired sigh. “I’ll tell you, Ruben, it’s a long way. You’re asking for trouble. I don’t know that I want any part of it.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “Really?” He made a deliberate survey of the room. “Tell me then, Ahern, if you find the task so formidable, which of these men here would be up to the job? Which are better drivers than you?”

Ahern regarded the crowd with a sour look. “I’m not saying I’m the best there is, but this lot’s more boast than brains. Don’t think there’s a one of them that would make it.”

Zedd shifted irritably on his bench. “Ahern, I think you’re simply trying to boost price.”

“And I think you’re trying to lower it.”

Zedd let his slightest smile touch his lips. “I don’t think it as difficult a job as you make it.”

Ahern’s frown returned. “You think it easy?”

Zedd shrugged. “You drive in the winter now. I simply want you to drive in a different direction, that’s all.”

Ahern leaned forward, his jaw muscles tightening. “Well, the direction you want to go in is trouble! First of all, there are rumors of civil war in Nicobarese. Worse, the shortest way, unless you want to spend weeks going to the passes far to the south, is across Galea.”

His voice lowered. “There’s trouble between Galea and Kelton. I hear tell there’s fighting along the border. Keltish towns have been sacked. The people here in Penverro are nervous, what with being so close to the border with Galea. It’s all the talk. Going into Galea is sure trouble.”

“Fighting? Wagging tongues of gossips. The war is ended. The D’Haran troops have been called home.”

Ahern slowly shook his head. “Not D’Haran raids. Galean.”

“Piffle!” Zedd snapped. “Keltans think it’s a Galean attack every time a farmer knocks a lantern over and a barn catches fire, and the Galeans see Keltans every time a lamb is taken by wolves. I’d like to have the price of all the arrows that have been shot into shadows.” He shook a finger at the man. “If either Kelton or Galea were to attack the other, the Central Council would have the heads of those who spoke the orders, no matter who they were!” He thumped his cane. “It would not be allowed!”

Ahern shrank back a little. “I don’t know anything about politics, and less about those wicked Confessors. I just know that going through Galea can get a man shot full of arrows coming out of those shadows. What you want is not as easy as you think.”

Zedd was tiring of the game. He didn’t have time for this. Something Adie had said was nagging at the back of his mind. Something about light. Deciding to resolve the discussion one way or the other, he drained his tea in one gulp.

“Thank you for conversation, Ahern. But I can see you’re not the man able to get me to Nicobarese.”

He rose, reaching for his hat. Ahern laid a big paw on Zedd’s arm and urged him down. He squirmed forward on his bench.

“Look, Ruben, times have been hard. The war with D’Hara disrupted trade. Kelton was spared the brunt of the war, but many of our neighbors weren’t. It’s hard to trade with dead people. There’s not as much cargo as there used to be, but we still have more than enough men wanting to haul. You can’t blame a fellow for trying to get his best price when an opportunity comes along.” His eyebrows lifted as he leaned in a little more. “Trying to get the best price for the best fruit, as it were.”

“Best fruit indeed.” Zedd waved his hand impatiently toward the room. “Any one of these men will gladly offer to hire out. Any one of them can offer me a boastful story just as good as yours, as to why they would be the best driver. You’re working up to asking top price. That’s fair enough, but stop playing games with me, Ahern. I want to know why I should pay it.”

With the tip of one thick finger, Ahern slid his cup to the middle of the table, indicating he wanted a refill. Zedd smoothed out his sleeves before obliging him. Ahern drew his cup into the protective shroud of his big arms as he leaned in. He glanced around the room.

Everyone was watching the bard sing a love song to one of the serving girls. He was holding her hand, singing words of eternal devotion. The girl’s face was red. She held her tray behind her back with her other hand as she studied her feet and giggled.

Ahern extracted a chain with a silver medallion from under his green flannel shirt. “The reason I want top price is because of this.”

Zedd frowned down his nose at the regal image on the medallion. “That looks to be Galean.”

Ahern gave a single nod. “In the spring and summer, D’Hara laid siege to Ebinissia. The Galeans were slowly being choked to death, and no one would help them. Everyone had troubles of their own, with the D’Harans, and didn’t want a piece of theirs. The people there needed weapons.

“I took loads of weapons, and some badly needed salt, up through some of the more isolated passes. The Galean guard had offered to escort any who would risk the run, but few took the offer. Those back passes are treacherous.”

Zedd lifted an eyebrow. “Very noble of you.”

“Nothing noble to it. They paid handsomely. I just didn’t like to see them folks trapped like that. Especially knowing what D’Haran soldiers do to those they vanquish. Anyway, I reasoned that some Keltish swords might give them a better chance to defend themselves, that’s all. Like I said, we make the best.”

Zedd lifted a hand from where it was folded over his cane, and gestured to the medallion, now back under Ahern’s shirt. “So what is that about?”

“After the siege was lifted, I was called before the Galean court. Queen Cyrilla herself gave this to me. She said I had helped her people defend themselves, and I was always welcome in Galea.” He tapped his chest, where the medallion hung under his shirt. “This is a royal pass. It says I may go anywhere I wish in Galea, unhindered.”

“And so now,” Zedd said, looking up from under his eyebrows, “you wish to put a price on something that is priceless.”

Ahern’s eyes narrowed. “What I did was a small bit; they bore the brunt of the hardship. I helped those people because they needed help, and because I was paid well. I’m not claiming to be a hero. I did it for both reasons. I wouldn’t have done it for one alone. Now I have this pass, and if it will help me to make a living, well, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Zedd leaned back. “You’re right, Ahern. The Galeans, after all, put a price in gold to your work for them. I shall, too, if I can. Name your price to take us to Nicobarese.”

The teacup looked tiny in Ahern’s big hands as he rolled it back and forth. “Thirty gold. Not one less.”

Zedd arched an eyebrow. “My, my. Don’t we think a lot of ourselves.”

“I can get us there, and that’s my price. Thirty gold.”

“Twenty now, ten more when you get us to Aydindril.”

“Aydindril! You never said anything about Aydindril. I don’t want anything to do with Aydindril, with their wizards and Confessors. Besides, we’d have to cross the Rang’Shada again!”

“You will have to cross anyway to come back here. So you cross in the north. It’s hardly out of your way. If you don’t like the offer, then I’ll offer twenty to take us to Nicobarese, and I’m sure I can find someone there more than willing to take us to Aydindril for the other ten, if we even need carriage after my wife is healed. If you want all thirty, then I’ll commit to it now, if you agree to take us all the way. That’s my offer.”

Ahern rolled his cup back and forth. “All right. To Aydindril. Twenty now, ten in Aydindril.” He pointed a meaty finger in Zedd’s direction. “But you have to agree to one condition.”

“Such as?”

Ahern’s finger moved, to point at Zedd’s red hat. “You can’t wear that hat. That feather will spook the horses sure.”

Zedd’s wrinkly cheeks spread in a grin. “One condition of my own, then.” Ahern cocked his head. “You have to tell my wife that it’s your condition.”

Ahern grinned back. “Done.” His grin vanished as quickly as it had come. “This isn’t going to be an easy journey, Ruben, up into and across those mountains. I have a coach I bought with my earnings from hauling to Ebinissia. I can mount runners to it. Make easier going in the deep snow.” He tapped a finger against the side of the cup. “Now, the gold?”

The bard’s fingers danced across the strings, playing an enthralling tune without words. Practically every toe in the room was moving in time with it, adding a drumlike accompaniment. Zedd reached into his robes and put a hand around the two purses of silver coins. He watched the room without seeing it.

And then the wizard did again that which he had had to do far too often of late: he channeled a warm flow of magic into the bags of silver coins—and changed them to gold.

But what choice did he have? To fail in this endeavor was to see the world of the living die. He hoped he was not simply providing himself justification for an act he knew was dangerous.

“Nothing is ever easy,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said I know it’s not easy, this journey.” He plunked the dark brown bag of gold on the table. “This should make it possible. Twenty now, as agreed.”

Ahern pulled open the draw top and put two big fingers into the bag, counting, while Zedd idly watched people enjoying the food and drink and music. He was anxious to be off to Nicobarese.

“This some kind of joke?”

Zedd brought his attention back to Ahern. With two fingers, the big man drew a coin from the bag and flicked it across the table. The coin spun with a dull color before finally toppling over, making a sound just as dull. Zedd stared incredulously.

The coin looked just like an ordinary coin. Except it was wood instead of gold.

“I . . . I . . . well . . .”

Ahern had poured the rest of the gold coins into his big mitt and was now letting them tumble back into the purse. “And there are only eighteen here. You’re two short. I’m not taking wooden coins.”

Zedd smiled indulgently as he pulled the light brown purse from his robes. “I apologize, Ahern.” He swept the wooden coin from the table. “It would seem I gave you the wrong purse, the one with my lucky coin. I would never give that away, of course. It’s more valuable to me than gold.”

He peered into his purse. Seventeen. And two of those were wood, too. There should have been nineteen, altogether. His mind reeled as he tried to make sense of it. Could Master Hillman have tried to short him? No, that would be too clumsy a theft. Besides, to carve a coin from wood, hoping to pass it off as gold, would be witless.

“My other two gold?”

“Oh yes, yes.” Zedd pulled two gold coins from the purse and slid them across the table.

Ahern added them to his purse, jerked the drawstring tight, and stuffed the dark brown bag into a pocket. “I’m at your bidding, now. When would you like to leave?”

The silver coins that were turned to wood instead of gold did not concern the wizard; that could be explained. Somehow. But there were three coins missing. Vanished. That could not be explained. That did concern him. Concern him down to the bones in his toes.

“I would like to leave as soon as possible. At once.”

“You mean tomorrow?”

Zedd snatched up his hat. “No, I mean at once.” He glanced at the man’s puzzled frown. “My wife . . . there is no time to waste. She needs to get to her healers.”

Ahern shrugged. “Well, I just got back from Tristen. I’ll need to catch a little sleep. It’s going to be a long, hard run.”

Zedd reluctantly nodded his acquiescence. “First I’ll put the runners on the coach. That’ll take a couple of hours. Less if I can get one of these fellows to help me.”

Zedd thumped his cane. “No! Tell no one what you’re doing, or where you’re going. Don’t even tell anyone you’re leaving.” He snapped his mouth shut when he saw Ahern’s frown, and thought he had better say something to ease it. “Those shadows you spoke of. Does no good to let them know where to point an arrow.”

Ahern stared down suspiciously as he stood to his full, towering height, drawing his longcoat on. “First you talk me into taking you to the accursed land of wizards and Confessors, and now this. I think I asked too little.” He flicked the ends of the coat’s belt together into a loose knot. “But a bargain is a bargain. I’ll get the coach set up, and get some provisions together before I snatch a little sleep. I’ll meet you back here three hours before dawn. We’ll be across the border and into Galea before midday tomorrow.”

“I have a horse at the stables. We might as well take her along. Stop by and fetch her before you come for us.” Zedd dismissed the man with an absent wave of his cane. “Three hours before dawn.”

His mind was racing in other directions. This was more serious than he had thought. It was imperative that they have help as soon as possible. Maybe the woman in Nicobarese who had had the three daughters had studied somewhere, perhaps someplace closer. Maybe they could find what they needed without going all that way. Time was of the essence.

The light only knows, Adie had said, where the woman had learned about the skrin. The “light” was a common reference to the gift. It was also an obscure reference to something else entirely. He thumped his cane on the floor. Must Adie always speak in sorceress’s riddles!

As Ahern headed for the door, the wizard rose and headed for the stairs.