After stopping for a moment on the shaded walk outside Leyladin’s to catch his breath and to cool off, Cerryl knocked firmly.
Soaris opened the carved and polished door for Cerryl and bowed. “Good afternoon, ser Cerryl.”
“Good afternoon, Soaris.” Cerryl found the coolness of the house was refreshing as he stepped through the foyer and into the marble-tiled entry hall.
“I’m in here, Cerryl.” Leyladin waited, on the settee before the portrait of her mother.
Cerryl’s eyes went from daughter to mother and back again before he sat down beside the blonde healer. “How are you feeling? You look very serious.”
“I talked to Myral this morning.”
Cerryl waited.
“He doesn’t think he’ll see the end of the troubles ahead.”
“We’re likely to have troubles for many years,” Cerryl pointed out. “That’s what I see, and that could be a long time. He could be around for years.”
“Cerryl. He’s getting weaker.”
“You’re worried that if you go…but if you stayed…?”
She nodded. “He might survive, and I don’t know that’s what Jeslek wants.”
“Jeslek has a problem. If Uulrac dies, things can’t help but get worse in Hydlen. If Myral dies, some will say that Jeslek invented Uulrac’s illness.” He paused. “Do you think…?”
“No. Jeslek is worried about the boy. But he also doesn’t care much for Myral. If Myral dies, who will speak out?”
“I will.”
“You do already, but the older mages don’t listen, except for Kinowin and a few of the Patrol types.”
Cerryl patted Leyladin on the knee, mostly because he had no idea what he could do or say.
She sighed. “Usually there have been more than one or two Black healers in Fairhaven, but the numbers are fewer and fewer.”
“They go to Recluce?” Cerryl frowned. “There was a Black healer that came through here last year.”
“One of their exiles or pilgrims? Even if we could find him, he couldn’t take Fairhaven. Sometimes I even get headaches so bad that I can’t see, and I was born here.”
“You haven’t told me that…I’ve never sensed…”
“I’ve not let anyone see that.” She turned directly to him. “How could I let any word of that get to Jeslek?”
“Maybe it’s better for you to go to Hydolar.”
“It’s not better for Myral or you.”
“I’ll be fine. I can look in on Myral.”
“You will, won’t you?”
“I promise. I’m not a healer, but I’ll let you know by messenger if you’re needed.”
“If he gets really sick, and Uulrac’s not too bad…”
Cerryl nodded, not knowing for what he hoped.
“So how are the two not-quite lovers?” boomed Layel from the entry hall.
“Just talking, Father.” Leyladin’s voice was cheerful, with a forced spirit Cerryl could sense was painful.
“Are you two ready to eat? Been a long day at the Exchange, and I’m starved.”
“If you would tell Meridis, Father, we’ll be right there.”
“That I can do, Daughter. That I can.” With a loud chuckle, Layel left the entry hall.
“You have to be careful, Cerryl. More cautious than ever before.”
“I know.”
Leyladin stood. “Father will be calling again if we don’t get to the dining hall.” She grinned. “Food is almost as important as trade to him.”
“Almost?” Cerryl raised his eyebrows as he took Leyladin’s arm.
“Sometimes, it’s more important.”
They walked from the sitting room to the dining hall, where Layel stood behind the head chair.
“Good! We can eat.” The factor seated himself, as did the others, Cerryl waiting slightly for Leyladin.
No sooner than the three were seated did Meridis appear with a large steep-sided china bowl that she set before Layel.
“Meridis? What might this be?”
“Fowl casserole, ser.”
“Fowl casserole? That be a dinner?” Layel glanced at Meridis.
“Begging your pardon, Master Layel, but all the beef is tough and stringy, and so are the fowl in the market. Stewed and with wine and spices and cheese, and even the broad mushrooms…”
Layel lifted his hands. “You did the best you could, and for that I am grateful.”
Meridis returned to the kitchen and came back with another platter, which she set before Layel. “Quilla, as you wished.”
“That is better.” A broad smile crossed the factor’s face.
Standing behind Layel, Meridis rolled her eyes, then set the bread platter before Leyladin, before again retreating to the kitchen.
“You said it was a long day at the Exchange?” Cerryl said as he poured the white wine from the clear bottle into the factor’s goblet.
“Yes…ah, thank you.”
“Why might it have been so long?” Leyladin asked, her eyes twinkling.
“Grain prices…they go up, and then down a little, and then up…Recluce is buying more grain in Sarronnyn. That means-” Layel eased half the quilla on the platter onto his own plate, then glanced at Leyladin. “You won’t be eating this, I know.”
“Recluce is buying more grain,” Cerryl prompted.
“There isn’t enough left to ship to Hydlen at the old price, and that means that grain prices, and the prices of flour and bread, will rise all through the fall and winter, even until next harvest, perchance. Ah…would that I had seen it earlier. Saw it early enough for a modest gain, but, oh, had I seen it far earlier.” The factor shook his head and spooned out a moderate helping of the casserole, his nose wrinkling slightly.
After Leyladin served herself, Cerryl took a modest helping, as well as bread and but a small serving of quilla, a serving he hoped he could eat without merely choking it down. He started with the casserole and found himself taking another bite. “This is good.”
“Meridis makes a good casserole…when Father lets her.”
“A man’s food is meat untainted with all such delicacies, or where such delicacies add to the flavor and do not bury it,” Layel mumbled through a mouthful of quilla.
“I often prefer the delicacies,” Leyladin said.
“I like both,” Cerryl confessed-truthfully, since he’d had little enough of either growing up.
“Spoken like a mage.” Layel laughed.
“He is a mage, a very good mage.” Leyladin took a sip of wine.
“I work at it.”
“Everything takes work. Trading does.”
“How did you get started being a factor?” Cerryl asked.
“Long time ago…my father, he was a cloth merchant, one step above a weaver, and I asked myself, ‘If Da is a merchant, why can’t I be a factor?’ I went to the Market Square and watched what people bought and what they paid…and when they bought, and I saved every copper until I could go to the weavers in the late spring, for that is when times were the worst, and buy all that I could, and I saved it until after harvest…”
Cerryl and Leyladin listened as Layel spun out his tale of rising from the son of a cloth merchant to a powerful factor. Layel barely paused when Meridis cleared the empty dishes and returned with three cups of egg custard.
“Egg custard?”
“You told me to take care with the honey and the molasses, that they would be hard to come by in the seasons ahead,” answered the cook.
“So I did. So I did. Egg custard. There’s worse. There’s no custard, and no eggs,” mused Layel. “And, you know, there were times like that. Bought my first coaster…and lost her on the second voyage…Folk said I was failed. They were wrong…”
Leyladin smiled at Cerryl.
He smiled back.
“…wrong ’cause I had coins saved, not enough for another ship, not then, but I took a share in an Austran spice trader that ran the Black Isle leg-can’t do that now…no, you can’t. Can’t do this, and can’t do that…world’s not the same now, not by a long bolt…”
Later, when the lamps cast all the light in the house and in the front foyer, Leyladin and Cerryl stood by the door.
“I’m sorry it’s so late,” Leyladin apologized. “Father, he was so pleased to be able to tell someone how he got to be a factor. You have to get up early.”