The rain began to ease, and in the west the sun shone through a break in the clouds. The sudden light was magical. The dull, matt green and brown of the distant, rainswept forest shone now with vibrant colour, the murky grassland becoming a glittering emerald sea. As the clouds parted further, the golden light swept across the farmhouse and Conn saw, for the first time, a host of bright blue flowers at the edge of the trees. Banouin joined him. The little merchant took a deep breath. ‘Doesn’t the air smell good?’ he said. ‘I love the aftermath of a storm.’ He clapped Conn on the shoulder. ‘Time to be moving,’ he said.
Two days later Conn sat by a small fire in the darkness of a sheltered hollow, waiting for Banouin’s return from the town of Alin. It was close to dawn, and the young warrior was growing increasingly anxious. He had urged his friend to allow him to travel with him, but Banouin had been adamant. ‘If I am to be in danger, my young friend, I can best deal with it alone. Believe me. Anyway, who would look after the ponies? If we left them here alone any stray thief could find them. Or indeed wolves could kill them. No. You wait here and learn patience.’
‘Who is it that you are going to see?’
‘A merchant named Diatka. He holds more than two hundred gold pieces for me.’
‘And you trust this man?’
‘We merchants need to trust one another, Conn. We cannot travel the world with bulging chests of coin. Wait here for me. I will see you as the first light of the sun clears the peaks.’
The hours had passed by with agonizing lack of speed. Conn held his hands out to the blaze and glanced to the east. The sky was lightening with the promise of dawn. Rising, he climbed to the edge of the trees and looked down upon the walled town a half-mile below. The gates were closed. Two sentries were walking the wooden ramparts.
He stood for some while, then returned to the fire. Hungry, he ate the last of the dried meat. The sun rose, the snow-capped peaks to the east turning to coral. Still there was no sign of Banouin. Conn could feel his heart hammering in his chest. In some strange way he knew Banouin would not come. ‘That is fear talking,’ he told himself. Another hour passed.
Conn walked to a trickling stream and washed his face, then shaved with the Seidh blade. For two more hours he waited, unsure of what action to take. If Banouin had merely been delayed it would do more harm than good to ride down into the town. Yet what if he had not? What if he had been captured?
Conn decided to wait until noon. Covering the fire with earth he walked up to the tree line and sat down on a fallen log. From here he could see over the wooden ramparts. There were hundreds of buildings, all clustered together. People were moving now, crowds gathering in the open square of land at the centre of town.
The gates opened, and several wagons moved out. Conn shielded his eyes from the sun and sought out Banouin. He was not there.
The wait now became interminable. ‘Learn patience,’ Banouin had told him, with a smile. He might just as well have asked him to learn to fly like a bird.
A half-hour before noon Conn saddled his pony and, leading Banouin’s mount and the six pack ponies, rode down towards Alin.
A burly guard at the gate, armed with sword and spear, stepped out to meet him. ‘I don’t recognize your colours,’ he said, pointing to Conn’s blue and green chequered cloak.
‘Rigante, from across the water,’ said Conn.
‘You are a long way from home, boy.’
‘Aye, it feels like it. I am seeking the merchant, Diatka. I have goods for him.’
The man stepped forward, looking closely at Conn’s scarred face. ‘You’ve been through the wars, looks like.’
‘An argument with a bear,’ Conn told him, forcing a smile. ‘And one I didn’t win.’
‘You survived: that is victory enough,’ said the sentry. Swinging round he pointed down the main street. ‘Take that road until you come to Merin’s forge. You can’t miss it – he has an old ox skull hanging from the gate. Bear left until you see a row of storehouses ahead of you, then turn right. You will see a small orchard of apple trees, and a long building with a storehouse attached. The building carries Diatka’s sign, a circle of gold surrounding an oak leaf.’