Bujold, Lois McMaster - Sharing Knife 03 by Lois Mcmaster Bujold

Author:Lois Mcmaster Bujold
Language: eng
Format: epub

It’s like a memory of trade you can hold in your hand, and take anywhere.” Anywhere it was recognized.

Four great farmer towns—all along this river system, curiously enough—coined their own money these days, in addition to odd lots of coin left from the ancient days that turned up from time to time. The clerks in the goods-sheds were gaining a lot of practice in figuring, Dag guessed, making the coins all dance fairly with one another—or sometimes, he’d heard, not so fairly. In which case, people got a lot of practice at arguing. Even Lakewalkers used farmer coin, and not only while out patrolling.

“Lakewalker camp credit is better,” said Remo. “Bandits can’t knock you on the head and take it away from you. It’s not a temptation to the weak-willed or cruel.”

“It can’t be stolen with a cudgel,” Dag agreed, his mood darkening in memory. “But it can be stolen with words. Trust me on that.”

Remo looked over at him in some wonder. But before he could inquire further, Bo and Hod turned up at the foot of the gangplank. Hod had one of Bo’s arms drawn over his shoulder and was getting him aimed down the middle of the boards.

Dag was surprised to see them. One of the reasons Berry had been amenable to the proposed trip to the mint in the morning, despite the delay to their departure, was that she hadn’t expected her uncle back

tonight. She’d figured she and Hawthorn, who had been taken to the mint once by their papa on a previous trip, would use the time looking for Bo while Fawn and Whit went off touring.

Bo was saying querulously to Hod, “I still don’t see the point of making me drink all that water. It just took up space for better bev’rages. And I have to piss just as bad.”

“Your head’ll feel better in the morning,” Hod assured him. “It’s a good trick I know about, really.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” muttered Bo, but let Hod steer him over the gangplank. His knees buckled on the jump down, but Hod kept him upright. Despite several hours of following Bo around Silver Shoals riverside taverns, Hod was pretty sober, Dag noted. Hod looked up at Dag and Remo, watching from the roof, and cast them a shy smile. He maneuvered the old man inside, to be greeted with even greater surprise by Berry.

“Well, that’s interestin’,” murmured Dag.

“How so?” said Remo.

“Seems Hod’s got a talent for managing difficult drunks. I wasn’t expecting anything like that. You wonder where and how he learned it, so young.”

Remo’s brows drew down. He was quiet for a long time. “Kind of disturbing, in a way. In light of how he flinches at most everything.”

“Uh-huh,” said Dag, pleased at Remo for following through that far. The boy might make a patrol leader someday after all, if he survived. Remo was open enough again to sense the ripple of approval in Dag’s ground, and his spine straightened a bit, unwittingly.

Dag smiled and slid down off the roof to go find out what Fawn had arranged for their bedding.

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