5.Death of Chaos
LXIX
“THAT'S IT. HOLD it there.” I hammered the plank in place, and the back wall of the henhouse was complete. After taking a deep breath, I wiped the sweat off my forehead on my ragged sleeve.
The braawkking of one of the hens seemed but cubits away, even though all were somewhere on the other side of the stable.
“Th-this side?” asked Wegel, brushing away a large horsefly. The horsefly circled back in for another nip, and Wegel smashed it flat against the bracing timber, then wiped his hand on his trousers.
“Might as well. I'm tired of tripping on chickens, even if I do like eggs. Maybe we'll have enough to eat a few by fall. Chickens, not eggs.”
Wegel grinned.
“Get another plank.”
He kept grinning, but we only got two more planks done before we heard hoofs.
I recognized the small man with the peaked cap of green and white plaid wool, even before he vaulted from his mount-a big white stallion of the kind I never wanted to ride. Preltar tied the horse to the post with quick turns of the leather reins.
“Master Preltar. Have you come to inquire about the progress of your daughter's dowry chest?”
“Quite so. Quite so.” He rubbed his hands together, then followed me into the shop where he pulled off the wool cap and held it in both hands.
Wegel followed us inside and looked at his carving. I nodded. He might as well do some work on it while I talked to the wool factor. He couldn't put the heavy planks for the henhouse in place by himself.
Wegel wiped his hands on a rag, sat on the stool, then looked back down at the wood in his hand, without moving the knife.
I pointed to the chest, such as it was. “I've refined the plans and set up the framing here, and cut the wood. Here are the inside sections...”
Preltar nodded as I explained. “You're coming along well, Master Lerris. Yes, well. I must be frank. Frank, of course. The chest will be superb, I'm sure, but I would like something quite different. Quite different, and as soon as you could do it practically. I would pay a bit of a bonus. A bonus, you see.” He gestured with the cap, his bushy white eyebrows and unfocused expression giving the look of an absentminded hawk, were there such a bird.
A bonus I could deal with. “What is this you would like?”
“A traveling storage chest, and I would like two of them. Two, if you please, and very functional, and light, but strong.”
“How large?” I went over to the drawing board. “Most of the time they would be carried by wagon-but a horse should be able to carry one in an emergency.”
“Probably not much more than two cubits by a cubit and a half, and a cubit deep?” I used my hands to indicate a rough size.
“A shade bigger. Could they be a shade bigger?”
I laughed. “They can be any size you wish. I was thinking about a horse having to carry one. I'd use fir, I think. That's the best for strength when you're worried about weight.”
“Fir?”
I shrugged. “It's softer, and it will get dented and banged up more easily, but you'll save more than a stone in weight for a chest that size. That's one of the reasons sailing ships' masts are usually fir.”
“Ah, weight. Yes, they must be light. And so must the chests.”
“Fir,” I affirmed.
Preltar twisted the green and white wool cap in his hands, and I noticed that the moisture pot needed refilling, although it would not be long before the real heat would begin. That meant letting the wood dry over the summer, not something I was thrilled with, but a necessary concession to the climate.
“How soon could you finish these chests?”
I frowned. I was still working on Antona's desk, and Durrik's chest, and I still hadn't done much on Zeiber's bookcase. The traveling chests would be easy, and I knew Faslik had plenty of fir. Besides, a good shop has half a dozen pieces working at one time. Of course, I wasn't anywhere near that good. “Three eight-days, perhaps sooner.” I should have been able to finish them in half that, but I was learning to give myself some margin.
“Three eight-days. Oh, that would be superb. Just superb.” The bushy eyebrows under the bald head knitted, and the hawk looked a lot less absentminded. “The price. We did not discuss the price.”
“No, we didn't.”
“Fir is less expensive, is it not, and you did not mention ornamentation.”
“True. A chest that size in oak or cedar, as you know, would run close to ten golds.”
“But these are smaller than Hylera's chest, perhaps two thirds that size, and the fir cannot cost what the cedar does. It cannot. No, it cannot.”
“You are correct, Master Preltar, and I certainly never said that one of these chests would cost what Hylera's chest will. I presume you would want brasswork for the lock plates and hinges, and good crafting.”
“Ah, yes, good crafting. That was why I came to you.”
I shrugged. “Five golds apiece.”
He didn't blink an eye, and that bothered me.
“Five apiece, yes, yes, we find that fair. Very fair. And, Master Lerris, if they are ready in three eight-days or less, a gold extra for each.” He beamed at me.
I liked that even less, but I bowed. “We will certainly do our best.”
“And Hylera's chest... when might that be ready?”
“I might, might, be able to have that ready around the same time.”
“Oh, superb... just superb. That would make matters so much simpler. Yes, simpler. Then, she could take... ah, but there's no reason to bore you with the details. Not the details. A gold extra for that if you could have it ready in no less than four eight-days.”
Preltar was in a hurry, a definite hurry.
“I take it that the Hamorian traders are on the move.” I smiled politely.
“The Hamorians? Their traders... terrible people, you know. Their cotton is cheap, not enduring like good Analerian wool, and they are so... demanding... very demanding.” He replaced his cap on his head, and bowed, then extended a gold to me.“A token, just a token deposit, but... yes, just a token.”
I did take it, and nodded again. “I'll be getting right on it, Master Preltar.” And I would be, in more ways than one. “These chests... there seems to be a certain urgency about them.”
“Urgency. Well, Master Lerris, one must shear, yes, shear, when the wool is ready.”
“I've heard some people are worried that Hamor may move beyond Freetown and Delapra. What do you think?” I tried to make the question offhand.
“Me? Think? A mere wool factor, Master Lerris? How would I know?” He gave a jerky shrug. “The Empire keeps growing, they say... yes, growing, and the Hamorians have warships in Southwind and Freetown, and who knows... who knows where they may go. I'm sure I don't. I'm sure I don't.” He put the cap on his head and bowed.
I inclined my head to him and followed him to the door.
“A good day, yes, a good day to you, Master Lerris.”
I tried not to shake my head until he was out of the yard on the big stallion. Then I walked back to the door of the shop and called for Wegel. “Come on. We need to finish the demon-damned henhouse.”
“Master Lerris, ser... I'd thank you not to call down the white forces on our chickens...” Rissa stood by the kitchen door, broom in hand.
“Sorry, Rissa.” I wiped my forehead. The day was already hot, and it wasn't even midday, and still relatively early in the spring. And now the wool factor was worried enough to order shipping chests without really haggling over the costs.
That meant another trip to see Merrin, and more brasswork to pay for, and who knew what else.