The Rain Wild Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Robin Hobb
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the Chalcedeans wished to trade with him, let them come to him, where he could look down on them before they boarded. None of them appeared to be carrying weapons.
‘Aren’t you going to go look at their cargo before they start delivering to us?’ Swarge asked him. The well-muscled tillerman slowly pulled on the long handle of the sweep.
Leftrin, leaning on the railing, shook his head. ‘If they want my gold, let them do the work of delivering to me.’ Leftrin had no love for Chalcedeans, and no trust in them. He wouldn’t venture onto their deck where any sort of treachery might befall an honest man. Swarge made a slow sweep with the steering oar, effortlessly holding the barge in place against the river’s spreading current. All around them, the pale waters of the Rain Wild River were dispersing into the brack of the shallow bay. This was as far as Leftrin ever brought Tarman, and farther than he usually did. He made most of his living trading up and down the river among the Rain Wilder settlements, just as his father and grandfather had before him. Not for him the open seas and foreign shores. No. He made only a few yearly forays to the river’s mouth, usually when a reliable go-between contacted him. Then he went only to trade for the foodstuffs that the Rain Wilds residents needed to survive. He couldn’t be as fussy about whom he dealt with at the river mouth, but Leftrin kept his guard up. A wise trader knew the difference between making a deal and making a friend. When dealing with a Chalcedean, there was only business, never friendship, and the trader who bartered with them had best have eyes in the back of his head. Technically, the two countries were at peace now, but peace with Chalced never lasted.
So Leftrin watched them come with narrowed eyes and a suspicious set to his mouth. The fellows on the oars looked to be ordinary sailors, and the sacks of grain no more than sacks of grain. Nonetheless, as the small boat pulled alongside his barge and tossed a line, he let Skelly, their youngest crew member, catch it and make it fast. He kept his place by the railing and watched the men in the boat. Big Eider ghosted up alongside him and stood, quietly scratching his black beard and watching the boat come. ‘Watch the sailors,’ Leftrin told him softly. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the merchant.’
Eider nodded.
Ladder cleats were built right onto Tarman’s sides. The Chalcedean merchant climbed them easily and Leftrin revised his estimate of the man; he might be on the heavy side but he looked physically able enough. He wore a heavy sealskin cloak, trimmed and lined with scarlet. A wide leather belt decorated with silver secured his woollen tunic. The sea wind caught at the man’s cloak and sent it billowing, but the merchant appeared unfazed by it. As much sailor as merchant, Leftrin thought to himself. Once aboard, the merchant nodded gravely to Leftrin and received a curt bow in return. The merchant leaned over the side and barked several commands in Chalcedean to his oarsmen before turning back to Leftrin.
‘Greetings, Captain. I will have my crewmen bring aboard samples of both my wheat and my barley. I trust the quality of my goods will meet with your approval.’
‘That is yet to be seen, Merchant.’ Leftrin spoke affably but firmly, smiling all the while.
The man glanced around at his bare deck. ‘And your trade goods? I expected to find them set out for my inspection.’
‘Coin needs little inspection. When the time comes, you’ll find the scale set up in my stateroom. I go by weight rather than coinage.’
‘And to that, I have no objection. Kings and their mints may rise and fall, but gold is gold and silver is silver. Still,’ and here the man dropped his voice, ‘when one comes to the mouth of the Rain Wild River, one does not expect gold and silver. I had hoped for a chance to purchase Rain Wild goods from you.’
‘If you’re after Rain Wilds goods, then you’ll have to take yourself to Bingtown. Everyone knows that is the only place to obtain them.’ Leftrin watched past the Chalcedean’s shoulder as one of his men gained the deck. Eider was ready to meet the man, but he didn’t offer to take his sack from him. Bellin stood nearby, her heavy pole ready to hand. Without even intending to, she looked more formidable than Eider.
The foreign oarsman lugged a heavy sack of grain slung across his shoulder. He took two steps from the rail, let his sack thud to Leftrin’s deck, and then turned back to fetch another one. The sack looked good, tightly woven hemp, unmarked by salt or damp. But that didn’t mean the grain inside was good, or that all the bags would be of like quality. Leftrin kept his face neutral.
The Chalcedean trader came a half-step closer. ‘That is, indeed, what men say and what many men hear. But a few men hear of other goods, and other bargains, quietly struck and to the great benefit of both parties. Our go-between mentioned that you were a man well known as both a shrewd captain and a savvy trader, owner of the most efficient barge ever seen. He said that if there was anyone who might have the sort of special goods I seek, it would be you. Or that you would know to whom I should speak.’
‘Did he?’ Leftrin asked affably as the oarsman deposited another bag on his deck. It looked as tightly woven and well kept as the first one. He nodded to Hennesey, and the mate opened the deckhouse door. Grigsby, the ship’s yellow cat, sauntered out onto the deck.
‘He did,’ the merchant asserted in a bold yet quiet voice.
Past the merchant’s shoulder, Leftrin watched the cat. The sassy little bastard stuck his claws in the Tarman’s deck, stretched, and then pulled his claws in toward himself, leaving tiny scratches on the wood. He strolled toward the captain, making a leisurely tour of the deck before settling to his task. He went to the unfamiliar sacks, sniffed them casually, and then butted his head against one, marking it as worthy of being his possession. Then he moved on toward the galley door. Leftrin pursed his mouth and gave a small nod of approval. If there’d been any scent of rodent on the sacks at all, the cat would have shown more interest. So this grain merchant came from a clean ship. Remarkable.
‘Special goods,’ the man repeated quietly. ‘He said it was known to him that you had access.’
Leftrin turned his head sharply to meet the merchant’s intense grey gaze. His brow furrowed. The man misinterpreted his look.
‘Of all kinds. Even the smallest scale. A piece of skin.’ He lowered his voice more. ‘A piece of cocoon-wood.’
‘If that’s what you want to trade for, you’ve come to the wrong man,’ Leftrin said bluntly. He turned away from the merchant and crossed the deck to the sacks of grain. He went down on one knee, drawing his belt knife as he did so. He cut the twine that stitched the sack’s mouth and pulled it free then plunged his hand into the grain and rolled the kernels in the palm of his hand. It was good grain, clean and free of chaff and straw. He spilled it back into the sack and pulled a handful from the depths of the bag. When he brought it out into the light, it was just as pleasing as the first handful. With his free hand, he picked up some of the wheat and put it into his mouth. He chewed it.
‘Dried in sunlight, to keep well, but not dried so much that it has no flavour or virtue,’ the merchant informed him.
Leftrin nodded abruptly. He poured what he held back into the bag, dusted his hands, and turned his attention to the next bag. He cut the knot, unlaced the sack and continued his sampling process. When he was finished, he sat back on his heels, swallowed the mouthful of barley and conceded, ‘The quality is good. If the rest of the shipment matches the samples in these bags, I’ll be a happy buyer. Once we’ve set the price per bag, you can start transferring the cargo. I’ll reserve the right to refuse any bag and I’ll inspect each one as it comes onto my deck.’
The merchant favoured him with a slow nod that made his agreement formal. ‘Your terms are easy to accept. Now. Shall we retire to your quarters to set the price per bag and perhaps discuss other transactions?’
‘Or we could negotiate here,’ Leftrin observed evenly.
‘If you please, your quarters would be more private,’ the merchant replied.
‘As you will.’ Once or twice, Leftrin had trafficked in forbidden goods. He had no such goods that he wished to trade now, but he’d let the man make an incriminating offer. Possibly an offended reaction and