27 Chapter Twenty Four

Fourth day, Tenth Moon, 240 AC

"So, how's business?"

"Bah! Things have been good here, same as always. How's the family?" Arlan asked.

I replied, "Good. My wife birthed a son about 8 moons ago."

He gave me a smile. "Good! Your first one, right?" At my nod he continued, "Can never have to many sons. Though, I suppose them Whitehills won't agree."

"Oh? What happened?"

Arlan chuckled. "Well, apparently they only executed a merchant. But, word is that there was a messenger from the House o' Manderly rejecting a betrothal. Lord Whitehill didn't like tha' much. Not enough prospects they say."

"Lord Whitehill tried to marry off his son to a daughter of Lord Manderly?"

He gave a wry smile. "Not his first son either. His fifth! Not sure what the man was thinkin'"

I coughed in surprise. "Fifth?! No wonder it was rejected. What is the fifth son gonna' do? What was the point?"

Arlan shrugged. "Dunno. Not part o' the rumor. They are the only Houses in the North tha' worship the new gods though."

"Huh. Any other news?"

He scratched his beard in thought. "Not really sure. You heard about the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion?"

I nodded. "Aye. Heard it from some merchants a few moons back. Nasty business those rebellions."

Arlan nodded solemnly at that. "Aye, it is. That Ser Duncan the Tall though, is suppos' t' be one of the best fighters though. Suppos' t' be even taller than the Umbers!"

I laughed. "And probably more knightly too!"

Arlan laughed at that. We both sat and drank our mead for a while before he spoke up again, "Suppose we aught to get t' business, eh?"

"I suppose we should. So, I've got four barrels of vodka this time and one of the brandy."

He nodded. "So, the same as last time? Same price then; Coin and wine?" At my nod, we shook hands in agreement. He pulled out his pouch and handed me my coins and yelled for a boy to go unload my barrels and load his. Arlan asked me, "Heading right home again?"

"I think so; I need to do business with another merchant. I'm not sure if he is here yet."

Arlan perked up. "Well, if he's not, you come straight back here! I'll get you a room no problem, an' a nice place in the stable t' put your wagon!"

I smiled and thanked him for the offer. As I left the tavern, I let the boy continue to load my wagon while I went in search of the merchant. This was the same merchant I did business with many years ago, the one who transported my cast iron stove for me. Unfortunately, after an hour of searching I found that he had not arrived yet.

So, I made my way back to the tavern and got a room to stay the night. I spent the rest of the day wandering the town and buying a few trinkets for my family. Violet had really wanted to come with me to Deepwood, but her mother really needed her help to watch over the other children and the farm itself. Violet had been inconsolable for many days about that decision since she had been wanting to see more of everything for quite a few years. I had promised her that I would bring her on some of the shorter journeys, but the promise did little to mollify her.

For Violet and Nyra, I ended up purchasing some high-quality linen with some painted designs on them. Violet had been complaining about the heat this summer, which had given me inspiration for the idea. I remember the Japanese had those folding hand fan things, and I figured that would be a perfect gift for them. It didn't seem to difficult to make, even if I had to puzzle through it. For Eve, I decided she needed a companion for her – like Violet had Max – so I ended up purchasing a new puppy for her. It was a breed I hadn't seen before, but it looked like a big fluffball. According to the seller, they were a breed from White Harbour, and were originally meant to be guard dogs but ended up being pets for merchants. They were not overly aggressive, but they were protective. I thought it would be a perfect companion for Eve, and I even got another for Zane and his work. The seller called them Chow Chow dogs but didn't know the history of them or the name. For Ryden, I got a cute little toy axe. It was big enough, so he couldn't choke on it, and had no edge to it.

Dinner that night in the tavern was lively, and the food was good, if plain. The mead went down well, with me and everyone else in the tavern. It was also nice to see people purchasing and enjoying my vodka, though I didn't see anyone buy any brandy. As the night wore on, the mead continued to flow and everyone in the tavern enjoyed themselves. Some sang bawdy tunes with their friends, others played games and gambled. I ended up gambling with a few groups of people as I drank. There was a fire going in the corner of the room, helping to illuminate the room, along with lanterns and candles. The tavern was packed, and it looked like Arlan was doing really good business.

I had not drunk this much in a long time, and I enjoyed the release. At some point in the night, my memories grew a bit hazy. And at some point, I decided singing was a grand idea. I managed to stumble my way to my wagon and grabbed my guitar and then stumbled my way back inside again.

Seeing an actual instrument, even if they didn't recognize it, the crowd began to cheer me on. I dragged a chair over near the fire and cleared a little area around me so that I could have room to play and not worry about anyone crashing into me.

A/N: My recommendation is to listen to the music videos and just try to imagine Michael playing it in a medieval tavern. It's lots of fun!

I began to sing, "And I would walk 500 miles… and I would walk 500 more…"

The song definitely energized the crowd, and they were cheering. The sound of the crowd's enthusiasm was intoxicating, and so I decided another song was needed.

I shouted out, "This next one is for all the fellows that gave me their money playin' cards!"

Laughs and jeers rang out from the crowd.

"You got to know when to hold 'em… know when to fold 'em"

The crowd sang along with me on the chorus, easily catching the tune and loving the song.

The next song, I decided to go big. Really make this song work for me and those in the tavern.

Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you

The Direwolf comes

With a Sword wielding power

Of the ancient North arts

Believe, believe,

The Direwolf comes

It's an end to the evil

From all or our foes

Beware, beware

The Direwolf comes

For the darkness has passed

And the legend yet grows

You'll know, you'll know

The Direwolf comes

It was definitely a crowd pleaser, after all, everyone loves to hear about how great their ancestors are, and a good song about fighting.

I took a moment to drain the rest of my mead. My voice was starting to get a bit raw, and I was pretty tired, which made the all the alcohol start to make things difficult. One more song to finish off the night. In my drunken state of mind I began to sing again, though I wasn't sure why I chose the song.

A/N: The lyrics for this song have been slightly reworked to fit better, but I didn't want to type it all out. If you want, you can just imagine the changes, mainly regarding the section regarding deception and betrayal. And try to imagine the song put to a more upbeat pace.

"I'm running with the wolves tonight"

The crowd sang along with the chorus and cheered loudly once I had finished. I stood and tried to take a bow but lost my balance. There were some good-natured laughs, and at that point I decided to call it a night and dragged myself off to bed.

xxxxx

The next morning, with a pounding head I made my way downstairs and shoveled in some breakfast. I wasn't entirely paying attention to what I was eating or my surroundings, so when Arlan sat at the table across from me, I was startled from my meal.

Thankfully, he seemed aware of my hangover and spoke quietly, "You were an excellent singer last night. You need to do it more often! An' such songs! Never heard 'em before!"

I grunted my thanks and went back to my meal. Arlan didn't seem to take the hint though and continued to speak, "You know I forgot t' mention this yesterday, but I got this paste you might like. I know you like your food." He handed me over a small bowl of paste. I eyed it warily, for it was far to early in the morning and I was too hung over to make good decisions. He continued while I eyed the paste, "Comes from the Iron Islands. Got it from a travelling merchant meself; it's pretty good and lasts a long time too."

When I finally worked up the courage to try the paste, I spread it on some sausage and bread to make a pseudo-sandwich and gave it a bite. It was very salty and tasted distinctly of fish. The flavor was strong and overpowered the sausage, but I had probably applied too much of it. I gave it a few more bites before I made any decisions.

"Well, it's pretty good. Salty though."

Arlan beamed and said, "Aye! But a man could live off it, or so I hear. And lasts a long time. I was thinking o' getting more. What do you think?"

I took another bite to give myself a moment to think. "I think it would be a pretty good thing to have in winter. Wouldn't want to live off it though. From the Iron Islands you said?"

"Aye. From a travelling merchant. Actually, there he is now! Billy!" Arlan shouted.

I winced at the volume.

A big man ambled over and with a loud, boisterous voice said, "Arlan! How are you this fine morn'?"

Arlan indicated the man should sit. He replied, "Good, though my friend here, Michael, is a bit hungover!"

The big man, Billy, nodded and said still in his loud voice, "You were that singer last night. Good stuff!"

I smiled weakly at him as my head pounded. Would it kill him to lower his voice?

Arlan spoke up into the silence, "Aye, he was. Actually, we were jus' talkin' about that fish stuff you sold me the other day."

Billy grinned and said, "The garum? You like it?"

Arlan replied, "Aye, it is fairly good. How long does it last exactly?"

Billy said, again in his annoyingly loud voice, "Not sure. Years. It's so good though, that people eat it before it goes bad!"

Arlan scratched his chin and said thoughtfully, "And it only comes from the Iron Islands?"

Billy nodded and replied, "Aye. Comes from the Iron Islands, but people in the Westerlands and the Vale like it. I guess the mountain dwellers all like it. Good coin to be made off a run to the Vale though."

I spoke up, "Oh, and why is that?"

Billy gave a booming laugh and said, "The Riverlands has banned it of course! They don't let anything from the Iron Islands into their lands! They'll destroy your whole cargo! If your cursed, they might even hang you! Not that I blame 'em, not with Harren after all. But, that means good money for those willing."

Huh, I hadn't known about the Riverlands banning Iron Islands' goods. Arlan asked Billy, "So what's it made of then?"

Billy laughed loudly and said, "I can't say that! Then you won't buy it from me!"

Arlan shrugged and said, "Well, if I decide t' buy it. And that's still an if. You can't sell me enough t' last until you can bring more, you don't come up this way often. So, you tell me how I can make it, the cheap stuff that is, and I'll buy the good stuff from you when you come by."

Billy scrunched his eyes up in though before replying, "How much are you going to buy then?"

"Well, you come by what? Every 5 t' 10 years? Let's see how much the people 'round here like this garum. Then, let's say you come by every 5, with a wagon full of the good stuff. That should last me, if not then I'll get you to come by more. Steady money."

Billy still didn't look certain and replied, in his loud voice again, "I don't know. What about price?"

Arlan replied, "I won't agree t' a price this early. We can come t' an agreement when you bring the garum." When Billy still didn't look convinced, Arlan continued. "I'll buy from you at least once every 5 years, for 20 years. We come t' a good price each time, fairly, and we might do more business."

Billy smiled and said, "20 years you say? That'll be just fine!" They shook their hands in agreement.

I still had no idea why they were including me in this conversation. But I listened regardless as Billy described how the garum was made. It would take some work, but I figure some of the fishermen in the village could manage. Though the salt might be a problem.

Arlan and Billy continued to talk and finalize the details of their agreement, but I zoned out and concentrated on my nice warm tea. Mercifully, Billy and his awful, loud voice departed and Arlan turned his attention back to me. "So, do you think you can make some of this?"

I blinked in surprise. "You do know I am a farmer, not a fisher, right?"

He nodded and waved off my objection, "Aye, but you live on the coast with the fishes. So, can you?"

I replied, "Not myself. I can ask around, but we can't do it in any significant quantities." I paused while I rubbed my temples, trying to find some relief from my headache. "You'll need to find a place with a salt mine. My bet? See if Bear Island can supply you. Maybe a coastal village to the north of Sea Dragon Point."

He looked disappointed and said, "Damn. I hoped you could. You've been good for business."

I gave him a genuine smile and said, "Well, thank you for the compliment and for thinking of me."

He acknowledged my thanks with a nod and said, "Damn, I have t' go see some other merchants then. Here," He reached out and gave me a jug of the paste. "Take that as thanks, I know it can't have been easy listening t' Billy with a hangover."

I gave him a wry smile and a nod of thanks. Once he left, I went back to attacking my breakfast.

As I finished, but before I could leave, another person sat down from across me. I looked up and saw a young man with dark hair sitting there staring at me. He wore nice clothes, and he even wore a necklace. He stared at me while I stared at him. I didn't feel any urge to talk to him, not with my head hurting, so I just sat there and waited.

After a minute he shifted uncomfortably. Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. "Hello. My name is Royce. You are Michael, correct?"

I raised an eyebrow, unsure why he was talking to me. "Yes," I replied.

He did not seem put off by my one-word answer. He continued, "I heard you sing last night. You were very impressive. I myself am a bard."

Was he trying to recruit me? I told him, "I like being a farmer. Not interested. Sorry."

The man just smiled and said in his soft voice, "I assumed. I actually had a question about your songs. What do they mean?"

"What do you mean: what do they mean?" I asked.

"Well," he said. "They seem to use repeat lines, and a lot of imagery. They were not like other songs, and it was hard to tell what they meant. So, what do they mean? What are they about? Did you create them? If so, how did you do so?"

I blinked at his onslaught of questions. My head hurt too much to come up with convincing lies and discuss musical theory. I told him bluntly, "They can mean whatever you want. It's up to the listener to take what they want from the song. Listen, I've got a wicked hangover and I have things to do." I stood up to leave but felt I ought to say something inspiring. "Sorry I can't help more, just listen to your heart."

Perfect. Poetic and vague.

I drained the last of my tea and left the tavern. Stepping out into the daylight blinded me for a moment, and I felt my head throb in pain again. The wooly feeling, I usually felt first thing in the morning while hungover, had disappeared, mercifully. But the throbbing still hurt.

Luckily, a boy I sent looking for the merchant, Kiran, found him quickly. I tipped him a penny and went back to the stables and collected my stuff. I made my way over to where the boy said Kiran was and spotted him easily.

"Kiran! It's good to see you again." I said in greeting.

"'Lo Ragnar! Been a long time!" Kiran said.

I smiled and asked, "How's business?"

He replied, "Good, trade has been good. Got your stuff here." He moved around to the back of his wagon and grabbed four sacks out of it.

He passed the heavy sacks to me, and I loaded them onto my own wagon. He then went and grabbed to crates and a box and passed those to me as well. I had asked him to transport some sugar for me from White Harbour, since I had been without it for years now. I had also asked him for glass jars and cork for me. I had to draw out what I was looking for, regarding the jars and cork, and I decided to make everything thicker and hopefully stronger to compensate for any quality issues.

The glass looked very cloudy, with some color distortions, but it was solid and looked alright otherwise. The cork was also pretty uniform and looked like it would seal the jars well enough.

I paid him the remaining half of the cost of the sugar, since I paid the first half when I contracted him to get me the sugar, and the full cost of the jars and cork were paid upfront. I quickly bid him farewell. With my head pounding, I was eager to get on the road and get home.

As I bumped down the road with my headache, I really missed modern cars. The thought of a nice luxury car like a Rolls Royce, not that I had ever even been near one, with a quiet interior, comfy seats and suspension and sweet, sweet air conditioning.

Hmm, I wonder if I could do something for my wagon? A leaf spring suspension shouldn't be too hard. I laughed out loud, startling a few birds in the trees around the road, I couldn't believe I never thought of that before.

Another project to add to the list then. It would have to take a backseat though; my jams were waiting! With my orchard growing, I was finding that some went to waste and I wanted something to help preserve my apples, quinces, and berries. Mmm, my mouth started to water at the thought of having jam again. Canning it would be a slight issue, and I hoped that my precautions would soon see me eating jam!

I let myself ride in silence and tried to put my headache behind me.