Part 28 (1/2)

Talen shook his head. But after stopping at the honeycrafter's, Nettle walked over to the baker's, one of Da's old friends, to buy a small meal.

Talen waited again in the wagon. A group of men only a few yards down the road talked amongst themselves and kept looking up the lane at him.

He didn't dare look at them directly, but it didn't matter. They reached some conclusion and all turned to face his direction.

At that moment Nettle exited the baker's, holding a number of items rolled up in the bottom of his tunic.

Talen was only too happy to release the brake and flick the reins and start Iron Boy. Nettle shouted, but Talen didn't pull back.

Nettle caught up to the wagon, held his tunic between his teeth, then jumped in and sat beside Talen on the wagon seat.

”What are you doing?” asked Nettle.

Talen glanced back, knowing the men would be following. But they weren't following; they stood watching him and Nettle go.

”One of these days,” said Talen, ”your stomach is going to get me killed.”

Nettled followed Talen's gaze. ”Gah, those dogs weren't about to do anything but bark. Besides, look what I got.” Nettle unrolled his tunic.

In it lay a disgusting half loaf of bread pudding next to some tempting, honeyed-almond small cakes. ”Am I good to you or what?” asked Nettle.

The thin, almost wafer-like small cakes were one of Talen's favorites-crunchy on the outside with a bit of honeyed almond paste in the middle-but now wasn't a time to think of food. He glanced back once more. The men had not dispersed nor turned back to talking amongst themselves.

”Lords and lice,” Talen said.

Nettle took a fat, moist bite of his pudding. ”I don't think they like you.”

”Really,” Talen said. ”What ever gave you that idea?”

”Act natural,” said Nettle. ”Here, have a bite.” He held up his pudding. It had currants and nuts mixed in with a good helping of something green and s.h.a.ggy. The whole thing was held together by some wiggling gelatin that reminded Talen of animal birthings.

”I think I'd like to focus on the matter at hand.”

”What you want to do is distract yourself, because if you spook, those men will think you're guilty and asking for a chase. Now take a bite.”

Nettle had a point. Talen waved off the bread pudding mess, took one of the sweet almond small cakes instead, and bit into it. It was baked with sugar, and while it crunched on the outside, the inside was soft and just about melted in his mouth. Any other situation and he'd swear he'd visited the gardens of the righteous.

Talen glanced over at Nettle who promptly showed him the contents of his mouth.

”Sooner or later,” said Talen, ”that stuff is going to gag you. And when folks ask how you died, I'll tell them you did it eating pig food.”

Nettle laughed. ”No, you won't. You'll remember I used it to save your life. And then you'll eat it the rest of your days.”

”Being induced to vomit is hardly a rescue,” said Talen.

”It's a distraction,” said Nettle. ”And it worked, didn't it?”

It had, but Talen wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

They crossed a small bridge spanning a muddy ca.n.a.l and then turned onto Fuller's Lane.

Farther down the lane two boys circled a large black, rat snake. It was as long as Talen's leg and as thick as his wrist.

Talen looked at the boys again and tensed. He didn't have to see their faces to know who they were. It was Fabbis and that lazy-eyed Sabin with his head shaved and dyed with temple henna.

So much for disgusting mouthfuls of bread pudding. Suddenly Talen's small cakes didn't taste so good anymore. He took a drink of water from a goat's bladder to wash them down.

”Fancy pants,” Nettle said.

Fabbis wore a pair of finely woven scarlet and yellow trousers. The worth of the fabric covering that moron's sweaty b.u.m alone was more than everything Talen had put together.

Talen turned his head, not wanting to make eye contact with Fabbis.

”They're going about it all wrong,” said Nettle. ”Look at them.”

Sabin held a stick and kept heading the snake off. Every time he did, the snake coiled up and tried to strike him. But if they wanted to catch it, they needed to let it slither and then s.n.a.t.c.h up the tail.

”Let's just get to the fuller's,” said Talen.

Sabin reached in to s.n.a.t.c.h the snake, but it struck at him.

As they rode closer, Talen could overhear their conversation.

”You've got to be faster than that,” said Fabbis.

”Okay, Lord of the basket,” said Sabin, ”you try.”

Fabbis s.n.a.t.c.hed the stick from Sabin then used it to fling the beast a few feet. When the snake landed, it tried to slither to the safety of some weeds, but Fabbis chased after it. He grabbed it by the tail and picked it up. At that moment he glanced toward Nettle and Talen.

Talen purposely ignored Fabbis. He simply pulled up to the fuller's and set the wagon brake, hoping Fabbis would decide, for once, not to torment him. Of course, Fabbis, being a horned bunion, was unlikely to do that.

Talen steeled himself and turned, knowing they must be close, but to his surprise the two p.i.s.spots disappeared behind a cl.u.s.ter of trees, Fabbis holding the snake out before him.

He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe his luck would hold out. ”Be quick.”

”I'm going,” said Nettle. ”Be calm.”

”Fine for you to say with your Mokaddian wrist tattoo. But you weren't beaten by a pack of village idiots a day ago. Or forced to strip at the gates.”

”This lane is full of people friendly to the Koramites,” said Nettle. ”You'll be fine.”

Talen waved him away. ”Try to avoid offending the household this time.”

”Bah,” said Nettle.

Talen stepped from the wagon and tied the reins to the hitching post while Nettle walked to the porch and knocked at the fuller's door.

The young foreign woman from Urz who Nettle had offended the last time they were here opened the door. She was beautiful, copper-skinned with eyes as blue and bright the silks she sold. But she only narrowed those eyes in irritation at Nettle. Nettle had flirted with her, but he'd said something that by the customs of her people indicated Nettle wanted to hire her as a prost.i.tute. By the time word reached Uncle Argoth of the incident it had been blown into a tale of unwanted pregnancy. Two families who had expressed interest in Nettle as a potential marriage candidate for their daughters had concerns. Nettle had been made to apologize to all of them.

On any other occasion Talen would have relished the exchange playing out on the doorstep, but Fabbis and Sabin made him nervous. He eyed the clump of trees Fabbis had disappeared behind and hoped Nettle would have enough brains to know that the quicker they finished their business here the better.