DAVID A. GEMMEL. SWORD IN THE STORM

‘Banouin spoke of you often,’ he said. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you. Come inside. I will ask the cook to prepare you a meal. I’ll have to do it carefully, for she is a hard woman and rules my house with iron discipline.’

‘She is your wife?’ asked Parax.

‘No. I hired her five years ago. She is a fine cook and housekeeper. But she is angry with me because I am selling up and moving south.’

The three men strolled inside. From outside the house looked little different to the other homes nearby. Inside, however, it was designed like a villa, the wooden walls overlaid with white-painted clay, the floor decorated with green and black mosaic tiles. The furniture was expensive and foreign, hide-covered couches instead of chairs, and the rugs scattered on the floor were uniquely patterned with a combination of delicate flowers and swirling golden dragons. A large woman in her late thirties moved from the kitchen and stood staring at the men. ‘You didn’t mention company,’ she said.

‘I had no idea, my dear Dara, that I was to receive guests. This is Connavar, and Parax. They are friends of a friend.’

‘I suppose they’ll be wanting food?’

‘That would be pleasant,’ said Phaeton. With a toss of her head Dara returned to the kitchen. Phaeton looked relieved. ‘Better remove your boots, lads. There’ll be trouble if a speck of mud stains the floor.’

Dara cooked a fine meal of roasted ham, fresh eggs, and a spicy pie with a filling of sweetened apples. Then throwing her cloak around her shoulders she bade them goodnight and left the house.

Phaeton relaxed. ‘As I said, she is a fine cook.’

‘A big woman,’ said Parax, dreamily. ‘Is she married?’

‘Her husband died two years ago. He was older than her. His heart gave out.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Parax. ‘Take a lot of effort to satisfy, she would.’ Phaeton chuckled.

‘That is not an image I wanted in my mind,’ he said. ‘I doubt I’ll sleep tonight. We have an extra bedroom. You are welcome to stay here for several days. After that the new owner will be taking over.’

‘Why are you leaving Seven Willows?’ asked Conn.

‘Seven Willows is pleasant, and I like it here. But since the Stone wars the market in cattle and corn is down. I can do better business in the south. The Norvii capital is now a thriving port. More ships are sailing there, now that the mines in Broken Mountain are played out. I leave in four days.’

‘To be honest I could use a bed around now,’ said Parax. Phaeton showed him to a large bedroom, equipped with three beds. Parax thanked him, and the merchant returned to the hearth room.

‘I was so sorry to hear about Banouin,’ said Phaeton, pouring a goblet of wine for Conn, then one for himself. ‘He was a fine man – one of the best.’

‘Aye, he was.’

‘He helped fund my own venture. Loaned me a hundred silvers. I only finished repaying him last year. He didn’t complain, even when business was bad and I couldn’t make the payments. Men like him are rare. Sadly, men like Diatka are not. I understand you made his death very painful.’

‘What can you tell me of Seven Willows?’ asked Conn, ignoring the question.

‘I suppose that depends on what you are looking for.’

‘Is it a rich settlement?’

Phaeton shrugged. ‘Again that depends on what you call riches. The land here is fertile. There is an abundance of food, cattle and sheep. Little coin – save around feast times, when the cattle market is at a peak. There is an old silver mine to the north, but most of the ore is taken to the mint at Broken Mountain, about eighty miles from here. Little of it reaches Seven Willows.’

‘You know why I am here?’

‘Dara tells me you are to supervise our defences against raids. Is that the situation?’

‘Yes.’

‘We haven’t had a raid—’

‘In ten years. I know. Puzzling, isn’t it?’

‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth, my friend. There is little here for them. They can’t carry away cattle or corn. Better for them – in the past anyway – to raid at Broken Mountain, where there is a treasury, or further south and the trade centres there.’

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