“What about alottery?”
As one, the crowd turned. Donal Grayson stood in the back of the council hall near the door and puffed on his pipe. He spoke around the stem. “Those families with livestock enter their names. If you can only afford one sheep or one cow, put your name in once. If you can afford more, put your name in twice or more.” His eyes narrowed, and he took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed the stem at the crowd. “And don’t think we don’t all have a measure of each other’sworth.”
“What of those who don’t have more than a sow or a fewhens?”
Elsbeth answered that one. “We buy one from a neighbor who does—for a fair price—and give it over. If you haven’t the coin for that, then barter a good or even your labor. Everyone can use an extra pair of hands to help, whether it be child-minding or working thefields.”
A mumbling grew among the villagers, this time less combative, and many nodded their heads in agreement with her and Donal’s suggestions. Elsbeth clutched her skirts, praying they’d consent to thelottery.
Irena patted her arm, her gaze warm with approval. She and the other council members conferred for a moment before facing the villagers once more. As always, she acted asspokeswoman.
“Thank you, Donal and Elsbeth. Those are fine ideas.” She addressed the crowd then. “What say you? A lottery tonight? Council will visit each of you and assess your holdings. For those who are chosen and have no livestock to give, you may parlay with a neighbor who does and decide between you a price. If you deem it necessary, council will mediate and oversee the exchange.” More nods among the villagers, and Elsbeth held her breath. “What say you?” Irenarepeated.
The chorus of “ayes” was loud and sure, if not altogether enthusiastic. Side discussions followed the agreement until one of the elders closed the meeting and urged the villagers outside. A few stopped to embrace Elsbeth or shake her hand and wish herluck.
One, the village healer and midwife, took her hand and squeezed. “You did a fine thing, Elsbeth. For us, yes, but mostly for your grandfather. I’m not so sure my grandchildren would brave a fire-breathing beast in its lair forme.”
Elsbeth smiled. While the telling of it sounded grand, her epic adventure had been nothing more than a long, sweaty walk up the cliff paths and a strange evening talking to a creature more articulate and shrewd than any aristo politician or counting house administrator. She pictured the villagers’ collective astonishment if she told them that once she conquered her terror of the wyvern, it had made her laugh a few times with its dry wit and acute observations of humannature.
Her humor faded. Were it not for her grandfather’s failing health, she might look forward to the three weeks spent in the wyvern’s learned company. It had not asked much from her personally. Twenty days as a “guest” to play her fiddle and keep it company. But those were twenty days away from Angus, and in that time she would fret and wonder if he would be alive when she returned to fetch him from Irena’shouse.
She sighed and turned to the other woman. “I’m off to see Angus. I want to spend as much time with him as possible before I return to Maldoza. Will it be all right if I don’t attend the lotterytonight?”
Irena patted her hand. “Do you have to ask? No one will begrudge you this time, Elsbeth. And if they do, I’ll box their ears to set themstraight.”
They both laughed. Elsbeth shouldered her lightened pack. She still wore her dragon armor and desperately craved a bath. “Thank you. Also, if you can put my name in the lottery for me, I’d appreciate it. We only have a nanny goat, a pregnant sow and a small coop of hens, but I can sell a rug or two and buy a ewe or wether fromDonal.”
Byderside had not elected the diminutive Irena as a council elder because of her retiring nature. She swelled with indignation. “I most certainly will not. You’ve given your tribute, Elsbeth. You’re part of it. No one expects you to participate in thislottery.”
Elsbeth doubted that and wanted no mutters of unfairness or partiality. She had money saved from sales of her previous rugs. She could afford to buy livestock for the tribute if necessary. Malcolm was the wealthiest man in Byderside, with a sizeable herd of cattle. He’d sell her a cow or bull without hesitation, but for a price she was unwilling to pay. She’d purchase a wether from Donal instead. He was a friend and a good man who’d made his own bargain with the wyvern and done well byit.
She accompanied Irena to the hall’s doors. “Please, I don’t want any more trouble. If my name is picked, I’ll give you the coin for a sale. Buy from old Donal, notMalcolm.”
Irena huffed, reluctant to relent. “I’ll think on it. And I wouldn’t buy a gold crown from Malcolm Miller if he offered it to me for a ha’penny.” She gave Elsbeth a nudge across the threshold. “Get going, lass. Angus has driven me to distraction with all his complaints and wanting his ale warmed just so and his toast buttered on a particular side.” She winked. “It’s your turn to put up with him before you leave him to my tendermercies.”
“Elsbeth,why didn’t you tellme?”
Propped up against a mound of pillows, Angus lay in bed and stared at his granddaughter with accusatory eyes. She sat next to him, holding his hand. The lies about to pour from her lips were enough to earn her an eternity ofdamnation.
“I’m sorry,Atuk. I didn’t want to worry you. When Lord Tybalt’s factor expressed interest in the rugs, it was on the condition I present them for his review. He insisted on meeting the weaver.” She ran her thumb along his hand, the skin of his twisted fingers as thin and fragile as old parchment. “It was only Durnsdale,Atuk. You and I have made that trip many times in the past. I knew the roads, knew the town, and it looks like we’ll have a profitable sale,but…”
“Butwhat?”
“Lord Tybalt has offered to sponsor me as an applicant to the weaver’s guild.” Elsbeth could hardly meet Angus’s eyes. “I could be accepted, but only if I agree to three weeks of review and demonstration of myskills.”
Angus’s cloudy gaze lit with joy, and he pressed her hand between his palms with a strength that startled her. “My sweet girl, this is wonderful news! Tell me more. I knew the guild would recognize your worth oneday!”
Almost two hours passed in which Elsbeth spun her tale of guild acceptance and swallowed tears as Angus, more lively than she’d seen him in months, gave her snippets of advice on how to present herself at the first guild meeting and what the masters looked for in apprentices. By the time she took her leave, he was nearly asleep, worn out by the excitement of her news. She kissed him on the forehead and stared at him for several moments, memorizing his sunken features in case he was gone when shereturned.
The blaze of late afternoon sunlight greeted her when she left Irena’s house for her own. Elsbeth, used to the candle-lit luminescence in Angus’s room, was almost blinded by the brightness. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes and found herself face to face withMalcolm.
He blocked her path, a hulking darkness that reeked of sour ale and violence. She tried to step around him, but he matched her movements, holding her captive in the village square’s openspace.
“What do you want,Malcolm?”
Suspicion glittered in his black gaze. “‘Twas an easy bargain you made up there, Elsbeth. Armored knights on warhorses couldn’t conquer the serpent, and all you needed was a fiddle?” He reached out a hand to touch her hair, and she jerked away, revolted by the idea of his hands anywhere onher.
Elsbeth shrugged. “The wyvern was reasonable enough. Then again, I didn’t come at it with a javelin and an empty purse waiting to be filled, so it was willing to listen.” She tried to sidestep around him, and once more he blocked her. “Get out of my way, Malcolm. I’ve a house to close, supplies to pack, and a journey to make. You’re wasting mytime.”
