Noten has gone still.
I don’t know the monetary value of what Tasa has offered.
But I know the emotional value of what this would mean to receive.
After a long, considering moment, like Noten is worried any movement will attract the attention of a dragon, he nods slowly.
One seed planted.
Now to rip out a weed that Tasa insists on watering.
Tasa is already hard at work on the old woman’s home when I arrive—or so I assume from the banging I hear outside—and as I suspected, the elder is proffering a steady stream of gripes at her.
I knock.
By the time the old woman throws open the door with a glare, I say, with no pretense at pleasantry and no hesitation, “You will not insult Tasa again.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Or what?”
The banging inside is loud enough that I have no fear that Tasa can hear us. “Oh? Must there be threat of reprisal for you to behave with basic courtesy?”
She snorts. “This, coming from the big man on my doorstep who offers no greeting after making an old woman get to her feet? Watch your tongue.”
“No,” I say.
She blinks at me.
“Youare dependent on Tasa’s charity,” I say.
“How dare—”
“Did you plan to pay her, then?”
She glares. “That child—”
“Woman,” I correct in a low, dangerous tone.
“—is a menace, and we have been cleaning up her messes her entire life. You know nothing. The least she cando—”
“—is nothing. She could simply leave. Tasa did not break your house. She is fixing it. Everyone else in this village is paid for their work. What are you paying her, except insults?”
“That’s what this is?” She demands. “You’re extorting me? An old woman whose house has been destroyed?”
“I am informing you of new terms,” I tell her coldly. “If you cannot pay in coin, then you will, at a minimum, no longer pay only insults. Or, since you think so little of her, I will make sure she is distracted any time she learns of your needs.”
She snorts. “So blackmail then, not extortion.”
“If you need to be blackmailed into not treating people poorly,” I say, “I can take on that burden for her. So? Will you pay in courtesy, or material wealth?”
I expect her to rail at me.
I am not at all prepared for her to stomp away, leaving the door open behind her.
Keeping my expression even, as if I am very confident about what is happening, I cautiously follow her in.
When I arrive in the kitchen, she slams a crock of butter in front of me and a loaf of bread with a haughty look of challenge.
Like we are in a negotiation.
