Seth bit back a laugh. “Do you say that often?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Your turn, princess.” Seth gestured for me to lead. “Shall it be a frumpy mattress? Or something more luxurious?”
Strolling down the crowded street, I stopped outside a building whose sign read ‘Cynthus Exports.’ Remembering something Eleos mentioned back in Serifos, I tied my horse outside and pushed through the door.
A tiny bell jangled. An assortment of luxury items lined the shelves, most crafted from leather. Tufts of feathers caught my eye, where a box displayed a small assortment of quills. Perfect.
A rack of leather cloaks drew Eleos like a moth to flame. Seth joined him, whistling. “I’ve always wanted a Cynthus-made cloak.”
“So have I.” Eleos agreed.
Backing toward the quills, I watched them, curious if leather, of all things, would bond them.
“Percy had one, before he fled home.” Seth continued.
“What?” Eleos gasped. “He left behind his spearandCynthus leather?”
“The man’s an idiot, I’ve tried to tell you.” Lining his voice with a flamboyant tilt, Seth mimicked Percy. “Material goods bring no joy, for a wealthy man carries gold in his heart.”
Shaking his head, Eleos inspected the price: far more coin than I was willing to spend. Only a nobleman or wealthy merchant could afford one of these cloaks.
“Think we can haggle it down?” Eleos asked.
“You’re a psyche.” Seth mused. “I’m charming. We could manage.”
“Charming?” Eleos raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t think so?”
“Maybe to women,” Eleos said dismissively, turning his head. “Let me get a read on the shopkeeper.”
Leaving them to their leather, I examined the box of quills, landing on one whose feather was painted a beautiful green, the same color as Eleos’ eyes. Picking it up, I turned it over, admiring the craftsmanship and words carved into the pen.
‘May written work protect what time forgets.’
The creed of the Scholarly Houses, if I wasn’t mistaken. I wondered if Eleos had sworn these words when he’d been instated.
I tried to envision a young Eleos joining the Scholarly House of History; doubtless, he would have been an awkward, lanky teenager. The thought made me smile.
Shaking my head, I watched Eleos and Seth across the shop, ensuring they were busy arguing before I approached the shopkeeper at his counter. Graying hair flecked his black locks, and surprising muscle defined his arms. Setting the quill down, I balked internally at the price. Ten Heschian coins.
A few weeks ago, I would have died on the spot at the mere idea of buying a quill for that price. My hovel of a home cost half that much for a year’s rent.
Without a hint of jovial cheer, the merchant took my coin and moved on to the next customer. Wishing the boys luck with their haggling endeavors, I tucked the quill into my satchel and stepped outside, leaning on my horse as I waited for them.
When the two men finally emerged, I stood straight. “Any luck?”
“That merchant’s made of steel.” Seth marveled. “I admire his tenacity.”
Eleos sighed. “Maybe we can find a better deal in Cynthus.”
“Well, I’m content,” I said. “Shall we head for the tree, or did you need something, El?”
“El?” he repeated.
“Nobody ever called you that before?”
