Read Online The Two Tanists (A Bard Without a Star, Book 2) by Michael A. Hooten - Free Book Online

least I can do for
a guest.” He swirled the heavy liquid in his own cup without tasting it. “If
you’ll forgive my directness, Per Grojian, why are you here?”
    “Yes, of course,” Gwydion
replied. “Forgive my rudeness. I have come because I have heard that you have
here the finest cow in your country, and would be interested in a trade.”
    Gwillim nodded. “That would
be my son’s heifer. His name is Kyrnin, and you will have to speak to him
directly.”
    “You cannot speak for your
son in this matter?”
    “No, I’m afraid not.”
    Gwydion shrugged. “We all
have different ways of doing things. May I ask when your son may be present?”
    “He should be along
presently.” Gwillim gestured to Gwydion’s harp hanging from the back of his
chair. “You carry a harp. I thought that was a Glencarish instrument.”
    “Ah, no,” Gwydion said.
“There is an excellent song about how it was given by the gods to my people.
Perhaps you would like to hear it later?”
    “I would like that,” Gwillim
said. A servant came and whispered in his ear. “My son Kyrnin should be here
soon, Per Grojian.”
    “Excellent!” Gwydion said.
“I hope his company is as pleasant as yours.”
    Gwillim nodded at the
compliment, and the meal continued. A few minutes later, Kyrnin came in,
looking curiously at the strange faces around the table. “Father,” he said,
taking his seat, “who are our guests?”
    “This is Per Grojian, a
trader,” Gwillim said. “He’s interested in your heifer.”
    Kyrnin frowned. “My heifer
is not for sale.”
    Gwydion held up his hands.
“I meant no offense, lords! But perhaps we could discuss the issue?”
    “I don’t know why,” Kyrnin
said. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where did you say you were from?”
    “Turian,” Gwydion said. “It
is across the sea, to the south of here.”
    “I’ve heard of it. But my
heifer would do poorly there,” Kyrnin said. “Too hot and dry.”
    “Yes,” Gwydion said. “But
that is only the north. The south is still hot, but quite lush.”
    Kyrnin shook his head. “I
think not.”
    Gwydion said, “I do not come
empty handed, my lord. I have six fine hunting falcons to offer you.”
    “I saw them. They are very
nice, but the answer is no.”
    “And the stallions?” Gwydion
said. “Perhaps you would prefer the horses to their riders.”
    Kyrnin shook his head. “My
heifer always has two calves in the spring. There is no telling that your
stallions will produce similar offspring.”
    Gwydion was watching Gwillim
out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be holding his breath as Gwydion
and Kyrnin haggled. When Gwydion offered the stallions with their bridles and
saddles, he interrupted. “Per Grojian? Do you mind if I had a private word
with my son for a moment?”
    “Not at all,” Gwydion said.
“Take your time, please.”
    Gwillim pulled his son into a
far corner of the hall, and several other men joined them. The wind brought
their conversation clearly to Gwydion’s ears; Lord Dyfed and the others, who
seemed to be leading lairds from the cantref, attempted to convince Kyrnin to take
the bargain. Kyrnin kept refusing, and Gwillim asked in exasperation, “What is
the matter? What do have against trading your heifer?”
    “I just don’t like it,”
Kyrnin said. “It feels wrong to me.”
    “Feels wrong!” Gwillim said.
“Fine! But if he offers much more, you may be facing a revolt if you refuse.”
    Kyrnin laughed. “Who would
lead such a thing?”
    “I would,” Gwillim said.
    They returned to the table,
Gwillim looking furious, and Kyrnin looking bemused. Gwydion said, “My pardons
if I have upset your house, my Lord.”
    “It is nothing,” Gwillim said
with a glare at his son.
    Gwydion pulled his harp
around. “Perhaps a song would help? It has been known that music can calm a
raging heart; perhaps it could improve our moods.”
    “Yes, that is fine,” Gwillim
said.
    “Then I shall play the song
that I