anyhow. I serve maybe twenty to one of the stuff made by Goatfoot and Maeder.
And based on the quality, I ought to be charging more for Maeder’s Red Gold!”
“Or maybe less for Goatfoot’s True Brew,” Akarlain said, tilting his head to one
side and doing his best to look clever. It was a strain.
“I’m willing to do that,” Ahdio told him, “just as soon as you and Goatfoot get
the keg price down to what it should be.” He sighed and raised a silencing hand
as the much smaller man started to reply. “That’s all right, that’s all right.
I’ll need thirteen more kegs tomorrow, and don’t forget what I told you to tell
Goatfoot. And that I’m looking for another brewer. My customers may be scum, but
they’ve got rights!”
Ahdio, his face open and showing no menace, held eye contact with Akarlain for a
long moment before he turned away. He moved on to another merchant’s kiosk in
the ever-noisy open market. Face working, Ak watched him. How was it that such a
genuinely bigger than big man moved so easily in a gait that no one could ever
describe as “lumbering”? He was almost graceful! And so lucky, Ak mused with a
shiver; Ahdio seemed not to notice the cold although he was not wearing nearly
as much clothing as most others. Like to have me a wife that generated that much
heat, Akarlain thought, and with a sigh he turned to enter Ahdio’s order on the
slate headed G-Foot.
Ahdio stopped at a fold-down counter under a sheltering awning of bright green
and faded yellow. After doubling his order for the sausages in brine he had