screeching at visitors didn’t seem the best introduction to Eirdale. He cringed as he caught sight of his young brother, Rio, in the front row, belting out a harmony enthusiastically.
There was a disturbance on the other side of the crowd and they parted, still clapping and singing heartily, to reveal a stately procession. Raf stared in surprise as no less than the entire village Council came marching out to meet the trader.
This guy must be more important than I thought…
At the forefront was Eirdale’s barrel-chested Foreman, his massive strides making it hard for Raf’s mother, Leiana, to keep up. But she did, her legs pumping furiously and her shoulder-length mahogany hair, normally so immaculately groomed, bouncing erratically around her sharp eyes. Behind came the other Council members, Raf’s father Tarvil included, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, wearing his usual calm smile. They sang along with the crowd, and then halted at the front to let the Foreman approach the trader.
“Welcome to Eirdale,” he declared. Then, drawing a breath, he sang the gretanayre chorus in a rich and deep voice that sent notes booming out and echoing off the nearby trees.
Barely started, he was interrupted by the trader who held up his hand. “Please don’t feel obliged to sing on my behalf.”
“It is only proper to honor you with the song of greeting,” said the Foreman, and he gestured to the other Council members standing behind him to join in.
“There’s absolutely no need, really. I’ve heard enough music from you foresters already to last a lifetime of… happy memories.”
The Foreman looked taken aback. ”I… I’m sure you understand it is our way. We would not want to disrespect you by not -”
“No disrespect, Foreman, none whatsoever.”
“Only, we don’t receive many visitors here in the south and the opportunity to share -”
“- will surely come up many times in the future,” finished the trader. “But for now, I have travelled far and if you have some accommodation where I could clean and refresh myself, then perhaps you might be interested in some trading? I must leave early tomorrow morning to get back to Miern where I am awaited by the Gerent, you see. Little enough time to conduct trading as it is; so if you don’t mind declining what I’m sure you’ll agree is a tedious ritual…”
“We will at least put on a banquet tonight in your honor.”
“I’m not quite sure -”
“Nonsense,” said the Foreman. “I imagine Miern is a noisy nightmare these days and the voyage down the Pass must have been grueling, so we will treat you to a feast and some entertainment before you return - and before we conduct any trading. I insist,” the Foreman lifted his chin slightly, “Mr.…?”
“Err… Wesp,” the trader replied, before swirling his cloak around his shoulders. “My name is Wesp Tunrhak, Miern’s most reputable trader. And personal friend of the Gerent himself.”
“Of course you are, Mr. Tunrhak, and it is a delight to have such important company in our midst. We are simple rural folk, but will do our best to leave you with an enduring impression of our lovely village for when you return to Miern.” The Foreman nodded at Raf’s younger brother. “Rio here will show you to the guest quarters down by the school enclosure. I hope you find them comfortable.”
Wesp grunted and spun on his heels, his cloak billowing outwards. “They will probably do.”
4 . SOJOURNS
R af stood idly as the wagon rolled down the path, the excited burbling of the villagers washing over him. From behind, there came the sound of footsteps, and he turned to see his father approaching. Tarvil sat down and rubbed his eyes.
“Tired?” asked Raf.
“Exhausted. We’ve been at it non-stop for days now. It’d be the first time that there hasn’t been a Festival. As unlikely as it seems, this trader may be our last chance to make enough money to