to trade, so she would simply have to ask for the forty tellins. She was glad the Barigan had figured out the exchange and the currency used; the last time she'd seen money it was a handful of rough bronze lozenges with the face of an ancient ruler stamped into them. She knew what to ask for. The trick was asking in a certain way.
She selected a gentleman who looked very likely to have coin in excess of the worth of a single horse on his person, and enough to not miss it too much. A merchantlord, by his garb, or at least whatever passed for one these days. Bustling, well-fed, in rich clothing of velvets and silks, he was hurrying home after a good dinner with friends, lubricated with fine wine. The scruffy Druid caught his sleeve as he passed, pulling him about. He turned with a snort to give her a good telling-off... and met a pair of green eyes. expertly lit in the glow of the street-lantern.
It is doubtful if he saw anything about the woman other than the eyes, or if he even realized they belonged to a woman at all. All he knew was that they bored into his brain, as a questing root drives through the soil.
Kaylana reached through the man's mind, easier even than calming a wild animal; noting with interest the slightly over-smoothed texture of his thoughts, evidence of magical adjustment. Perhaps this fellow had been something much less than an honest trader before a mage with the skill for light-minding had found him. Her will wrapped around his easily, not forcing, just suggesting in a way that was so sensible and simple, and yet absolutely irrefutable, as she said calmly: "Sir, you wish to give me forty tellin coins as a gesture of charity." The green eyes were as unstoppable as spring.
The merchant nodded dumbly and reached into his pouch, fingers counting as his eyes never left hers. Forty thin gold coins, the size of small aspen leaves and marked with the seal of the Six Lands united under the Six Heroes were dropped into her hands. Kaylana closed her hands on the coins and stepped back. Only then did she release the man from her gaze. He shook his head, glanced around, but saw only a scruffy woman standing there. Such people were beneath his station. He didn't quite recall what he had been doing, but it was perfectly right and sensible, whatever it was. He adjusted his waistcoat and, ignoring the common woman, set off down the street again. He had important things to do. Kaylana didn't bother to watch him go, but tucked the coins into a fold of her robe and went off to find the others. She disliked having to touch the minds of humans; it was risky with anyone more willful than a lazy, half-drunk merchant, and difficult unless she had the opportunity of surprise.
And their minds ... she shook her head. So much ignorance.
Sam had seen some low dives in his time, and this wasn't one of them. The tavern was well-lit, with a warm fire burning in the huge fireplace at one end, over which some serving lads were making mulled wine and tea. Plates clattered and voices chattered. He wandered over to where a group was playing at darts and watched with an expression of shy interest on his face. At last one of the men noticed him.
"Well, hello there, lad! Fancy the darts, do you?" The man's eyes twinkled pleasantly. Sam wondered again why everyone thought he was so young ... though it was true that he looked almost ten years younger than his approximate age. That had always been a lucky mystery and might help him here by making the players think he was even more inexperienced. The man seemed patronizing and smiled out of his thick curly brown beard. Sam fought down a retch at the easiness of it all, and at the Beard Man's complacency. He made himself smile back in easygoing innocence.
"Oh, I play a bit now and then ..." he said. The man gave his cronies a wink, and they grinned and laughed and nodded. The cheerful fellow turned back to Sam.
"Well then, my black-garbed fellow, you're welcome to join the game! We play for
She selected a gentleman who looked very likely to have coin in excess of the worth of a single horse on his person, and enough to not miss it too much. A merchantlord, by his garb, or at least whatever passed for one these days. Bustling, well-fed, in rich clothing of velvets and silks, he was hurrying home after a good dinner with friends, lubricated with fine wine. The scruffy Druid caught his sleeve as he passed, pulling him about. He turned with a snort to give her a good telling-off... and met a pair of green eyes. expertly lit in the glow of the street-lantern.
It is doubtful if he saw anything about the woman other than the eyes, or if he even realized they belonged to a woman at all. All he knew was that they bored into his brain, as a questing root drives through the soil.
Kaylana reached through the man's mind, easier even than calming a wild animal; noting with interest the slightly over-smoothed texture of his thoughts, evidence of magical adjustment. Perhaps this fellow had been something much less than an honest trader before a mage with the skill for light-minding had found him. Her will wrapped around his easily, not forcing, just suggesting in a way that was so sensible and simple, and yet absolutely irrefutable, as she said calmly: "Sir, you wish to give me forty tellin coins as a gesture of charity." The green eyes were as unstoppable as spring.
The merchant nodded dumbly and reached into his pouch, fingers counting as his eyes never left hers. Forty thin gold coins, the size of small aspen leaves and marked with the seal of the Six Lands united under the Six Heroes were dropped into her hands. Kaylana closed her hands on the coins and stepped back. Only then did she release the man from her gaze. He shook his head, glanced around, but saw only a scruffy woman standing there. Such people were beneath his station. He didn't quite recall what he had been doing, but it was perfectly right and sensible, whatever it was. He adjusted his waistcoat and, ignoring the common woman, set off down the street again. He had important things to do. Kaylana didn't bother to watch him go, but tucked the coins into a fold of her robe and went off to find the others. She disliked having to touch the minds of humans; it was risky with anyone more willful than a lazy, half-drunk merchant, and difficult unless she had the opportunity of surprise.
And their minds ... she shook her head. So much ignorance.
Sam had seen some low dives in his time, and this wasn't one of them. The tavern was well-lit, with a warm fire burning in the huge fireplace at one end, over which some serving lads were making mulled wine and tea. Plates clattered and voices chattered. He wandered over to where a group was playing at darts and watched with an expression of shy interest on his face. At last one of the men noticed him.
"Well, hello there, lad! Fancy the darts, do you?" The man's eyes twinkled pleasantly. Sam wondered again why everyone thought he was so young ... though it was true that he looked almost ten years younger than his approximate age. That had always been a lucky mystery and might help him here by making the players think he was even more inexperienced. The man seemed patronizing and smiled out of his thick curly brown beard. Sam fought down a retch at the easiness of it all, and at the Beard Man's complacency. He made himself smile back in easygoing innocence.
"Oh, I play a bit now and then ..." he said. The man gave his cronies a wink, and they grinned and laughed and nodded. The cheerful fellow turned back to Sam.
"Well then, my black-garbed fellow, you're welcome to join the game! We play for
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