"Allen, James - Unicorn Trade, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen James)

FAIRY GOLD
15
the taproom, so loudly that a mouse fled along a rafter. "Mer vin!"
Ynis sighed, rose, and went to serve him. She had been about to quench the rage that her words had refuelled in Arvel. Now it flamed up afresh. He could not endure to sit still. He tossed off his drink, surged from the bench, and went out the door, banging it shut behind him.
To Lona came Jans Orliand, chronicler at the Scholarium of Seilles and friend of her late father. This was not as strange as it might seem, for Jans was of humble birth himself and had married a cousin of the potter. Afterward he prospered modestly through his talents, without turning aloof from old acquaintances, until the hard times struck him too.
Lona had just put a fresh charge of charcoal under her kiln and pumped it akindle with the bellows. She was returning to her wheel when his gaunt form shadowed the entrance. She kept the shed open while she worked, even in winter, lest heat and fumes overcome her; and this was an amiable summer day. Nevertheless she had a healthy smell about her, of the sweat that dampened her smock. A smudge went across her snub nose. A kerchief covered most of her gold-brown hair.
"Joy to you," Jans hailed. He paused, to squint nearsightedly at her small, sturdy frame and into her green-brown eyes, until he said: "Me-thinks you've need of the reality, not the mere ritual."
"Is it that plain to see?" she wondered. "Well—
16
The Unicorn Trade
whoops!" In an expansive gesture, he had almost thrown a sleeve of his robe around one of the completed vessels that lined her shelves. She stopped him before he sent it acrash to the floor. "Here, sit down, do." She offered him a stool. "How may I please you, good sir?"
"Oh, let us not be formal," he urged, while he folded his height downward. She perched on the workbench and swung her feet in unladylike wise; but then, she was an artisan, in what was considered a man's occupation. "I require cups, dishes, pots of attractive style; and you, no doubt, will be glad of the sale."
Lena nodded, with less eagerness than she would ordinarily have felt. Feeling his gaze searching her yet, she forced herself to tease: "What, have you broken that much? And why have you not sent your maidservant or your son?"
"I felt I had better choose the articles myself," Jans explained. "See you, I have decided on renting out the new house, but its bareness has seemed to repel what few prospective tenants have appeared."
"The new house?"
"Have you forgotten? Ah, well, it was years ago. My wife and I bought it, thinking we would move thither as soon as we could sell the old one. But the war came, and her death, and these lean days. I can no longer afford the staff so large a place would demand, only my single housekeeper. The taxes on it are a vampire drain, and no one who wants it can afford to buy it. I've posted my offer on every market board and
FAIRY GOLD
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had it cried aloud through every street—without result. So at last my hopes are reduced to becoming a landlord."
"Oh, yes, I do recall. Let's pick you out something pretty, then."
Still Lona could not muster any sparkle. Jans stroked his bald pate. "What hurts you, my dear?" he asked in a most gentle tone.
She snapped after air. "You . .. may as well hear ... now. Soon it will be common knowledge. Arvel and I ... have parted."
"What? But this is terrible. How? Why?"
"He—he will not be sensible. He cannot confess ... to himself... that Sir Falcovan Roncitar's fleet is going to sail beyond the sunset without him—" Lona fought her wish to weep, or to smash something. She stared at her fingers, where they wrestled in her lap. "When that happens ... I dread what may become of him. We could, could survive together ... in this trade ... and today I told him we must . .. b-because the father of my children shall not be a drunken idler—And he—O-o-oh!" She turned her wail into an oath and ended bleakly: "I wish him luck. He'll need it."
In his awkward fashion, Jans went to her and patted her shoulder. "Poor lass, you've never fared on a smooth road, have you?" he murmured. "A child when you lost your mother; and your father perforce made you his helper; and when he too wended hence, there was no better inheritance for you than this."
Lona lifted her head. "It's not a bad little shop. It keeps me alive. It could keep a family."
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The Unicorn Trade
Jans winced. She saw, and welcomed the chance to escape from herself. "What pains you?" she demanded. "It's your turn for telling."
He stood aside from her. His back sagged, while a sad little smile tugged his lips upward. "Oh, an irony," he replied. "The single form of humor the gods know, I believe."
"I don't understand."
"Quite simple, 'tis. Hark," He confronted her. "When for a time it appeared that Arvel might indeed sail off to the New Lands, and you with him as his bride, were you not also ablaze? Be honest; we speak in confidence."
"Well—" She swallowed. "Not in his way. I would have been sorry to forsake this my home for a wilderness. Nonetheless, I was ready to go for his sake, even if I must sell out at a great loss. And in truth, I would have welcomed such a chance to better ourselves and bequeath a good life to our children." She spread her empty hands. "Of course, I knew from the first it was likeliest a will-o'-the-wisp. He would have had to borrow the sum required, and where, without security? His father's estate entailed. Nobody who might desire this shop and cottage is able to pay a reasonable price, wherefore they are just as unmortgageable. After he tried, and failed, I besought him to settle down here and at least earn a steady living; but there it was I who failed."
Jans raised a finger to hush her. "No matter that," he said. "My first point has been made. Id est, imprimis, you would have left these premises if you could.
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"Secundus, the dowries for my daughters exhausted my savings, and nature has not outfitted my son for my own sort of career. You know Denn Orliand for a good lad, and good with his hands, who at present toils as a day laborer, for miserable wages, whenever he can find work. I could buy him a shop of some kind, as it might be this very one, were my small capital not trapped by that incubus of a second house."
"We're all trapped," Lona whispered.
"Tertius," the dry voice marched on, "I looked forward to your wedding, for I am fond of you and Arvel is by no means a bad fellow. I had a: book for a gift, a geography which migrants to the New Lands should find helpful or at least amusing, as the case may be, and which is in any event a sumptuous volume—"
"Jans." She took his nearer hand in both of hers.
"Quartus," he ended, "you might have had occasion to send me a wedding gift from oversea in your turn."
"What?" she exclaimed.
He glanced away and cleared his throat. "Um-m ... a lady in reduced circumstances, forced to work in a tavern—but a fine person. As a matter of fact, I met her when Arvel once took me to the, m-m, Drum and Trumpet."
"Ynis!" Lona trilled. "Why, I've met her myself a time or two, but I never suspected—"
"Well, but of course I cannot think of assuming any fresh obligation before I have provided for the last child that my Iraine gave me, namely, Denn. The, m-hm, the lady in question agrees."
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The Unicom Trade
"Does Denn?" Scorn tinged her voice.
"Oh, he has no idea of all this," Jans answered hastily. "Pray do keep silence about it. And bear in mind, too, that .. . Ynis ... would be most unwise to give up her present position, distasteful though it often is to her, and marry an aging widower, unless her stepson is able to provide for her and her children if necessary. Denn is loyal, he would do so, but he must have a foundation for his own life before he can, must he not? We are being sensible, even as you
are."