Unicorn Trade by Anderson, Poul. Part one

Eating and drinking, he wondered if his wits had left him. That was a thought to shudder at, madness. But life as a hale man would be dreary at best. What could he do?

Not creep back to Lona, whine for forgiveness, and seek to become a potter. She would despise him for that, after the hard words he

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The Unicorn Trade

had uttered yesterday, as much as he would himself. Besides, he’d never make a worthwhile partner in the shop. His hands lacked the deftness of hers and his tongue the unction of a seller—not that she ever truckled to anybody.

If he stayed on in Seilles, he had no prospect other than a continuation of his present miserable, cadging existence. Opportunities elsewhere—for instance, going to sea—were niggardly. But at least he would be making his own way in the world.

As he had wished to do, and been sure he could do magnificently, in the New Lands. Well-a-day, how many mortals ever win to their heart’s desire?

Arvel sat bolt upright. Ale splashed from the goblet in his grasp.

“What is it that’s wrong, dearie?” Ynis asked.

“Nothing … or everything…. I know not,” he muttered.

The sun had gone behind the houses across the street. Soon it would go behind the horizon. Irrendal had said to meet him at the Dragon Tower.

What was there to lose? Simply time, if last night’s business had been delirium after all, and time was a burden on Arvel.

Granted, legend maintained that the elves were a shifty folk, and their powers among men weak and evanescent. He must not let any hopes fly upward. But did it do harm if his blood surged and he forgot his pains?

Swallowing the last of his meal, Arvel has-

FAIRY GOLD

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tened out. “Farewell,” Ynis called. He did not hear. Sighing, she moved toward a tableful of rowdies who whooped for service.

Hemmed in by walls, the streets were already dark, but people moved about. Linkmen were lighting the great lamps on their iron standards, while windows and shopfronts came aglow. Since the advent of modern illumination in Caronne, city dwellers kept late hours. Even those who had no work to do or money to spend enjoyed strolling and staring in the coolth of day’s end. Arvel could understand why creatures of night and magic now avoided the homes of men.

Sunset chimes pealed from the temple as he passed Hardan’s Port. It no longer existed save as a name; cannon had crumbled it and its whole section of wall during the Baronial War, and nobody felt a restoration was worth undertaking. Instead, the then Lord Mayor had turned the area into a public park. Trees that he planted on the borders had since grown tall enough to screen off view of surrounding mansions. Only the highest spires of the city pierced heaven above their shadowiness. Gravel scrunched under Arvel’s feet, along labyrinthine flowerbeds. Their perfumes were faint at this eventide hour. A nightingale chanted through the bell-tones and fireflies wavered in air. No lovers had arrived, which struck him as odd.

At the center of a greensward reared that remnent of the old fortifications known as the Dragon Tower. Ivy entwined it, and the fierce heads carven under the battlements were weath—

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The Unicorn Trade

ered into shapelessness. Here an elf might well venture. Arvel’s pulse fluttered. He took stance at the doorway. The chimes fell silent. The gloaming deepened. Stars trembled into view.

“Greeting, friend.” Whence had the vague tall shape come? Arvel felt after the sword he no longer wore.

Laughter winged around him. “Be at ease,” Irrendal sang. “You’ve naught to fear but folly.”

Arvel felt himself redden.

“Against that, no sorcery prevails, nor the gods themselves,” Irrendal continued. With the weight of the ogre off it, his slightly wicked merriment danced free. “Nor can the Halfworld ever be more in men’s lives than transient, a sparkle, a breeze, a snowflake, a handful of autumn leaves blowing past. Still … much may be done with very little, if cunning suffices.

“I pledged to you your heart’s desire, Arvel Tarabine. You must choose what that is. I can but hope you choose aright. I think, though, this should cover the price. Hold out your hand.”

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