A/N: I'd like to mention that I do NOT own Milil's dogma from Chapter One. And I'm sure Wikipedia doesn't either.
Currency Run
Even as old as she was, Glorwen's strides quickened in the invigorating air. It really was a fine day. The sky was almost silver in its brightness, with only an occasional ribbon of blue. The goldcrowns and bog violets stood out against the green beautifully this year.
Piper inhaled the breeze; the aroma of roasting meats and cooking vegetables assaulted her nostrils in earnest now as she neared the beam bridge, where Amie and Bevil had their booted feet dangling over the edge.
Amie's frustrated voice caught on the wind. "That is not what I'm saying. The point is you're not trying to understand." Bevil was leaning back on his palms, the auburn hair at the back of his head ruffled and sticking out at odd angles where he'd scratched it; proof that he was either confused, nervous, or genuinely irritated. Or perhaps a bit of all three.
"I still say spell-casting is much more complicated than holding a sword properly," Bevil insisted, shrugging.
"If this is another spell versus the sword argument, I may just find Wyl and let him club me over the head." Piper braced her hand on Glorwen's muzzle to steady her to a halt, gazing down on them with mock-disdain. Bevil hopped to his feet, hauling Amie up by her hands, both grinning like fools. Fair weather always had funny effects on people. Unless…
"Have the two of you already drained a few mugs without me?" She teased.
Amie greeted Glorwen with a pat. "Of course not. We waited on the dutiful daughter as usual." She crinkled her nose in a simpering smile.
Piper stuck her tongue out at her.
"Here, Piper, I'll take that." Bevil grasped Glorwen's reins.
"Thanks, cowlick." His palm swiped self-consciously over his head, attempting to flatten his hair. Piper chuckled. "Here, bend down a stretch, I'll get it." She tamed the spot with her fingers. "There. Now, I have to get this cart to Galen as soon as possible. Sooner I deal with him, the sooner we win a cup."
As the three of them crossed the bridge, Amie entwined her arm with Piper's and leaned towards her, speaking in that conspiratorial way that only kindred arcane spirits could fully appreciate. "By the way, I took your advice and convinced Tarmas to teach me a few new spells." Her lips curved in an almost impish grin. "And I dug up a couple more from his spellbooks when he wasn't looking."
Piper beamed. "Well, it's his own fault, the sourpuss. Filling your, not to mention my, head with all those mage stories. And he expects his most promising apprentice to mind her cantrips of all things."
The three weaved their way through the swarm of fairgoers, Bevil calling out 'watch the wagon' every few seconds. The burgeoning crowd doubled, maybe even tripled the usual, milling about the Fairway in chattering knots from one food tent to the next. Piper wondered absently if the dramatic increase in visitors had something to do with the meager harvest.
So. The city folk are paying their last respects to the struggling little Mere village? How thoughtful.
A man dressed head to foot in vibrant green bumped into Piper, apologized, and then proceeded to inquire if she thought his pantaloons clashed with his doublet. Bevil muttered something derogatory about 'dapper dans' under his breath as he curbed Glorwen in the opposite direction.
Vendors beckoned from their tent stalls, wafting the fumes of whatever they had concocted towards the passers-by. Baked apples, fenberry pies, hog's liver pudding, ginger bread, lemon tarts, stewed sparrows, and Retta's green bean casserole; there were words on the lips of a few city people that the Harbormen had pulled all the stops and outdone themselves.
"Why don't I drop by Georg and get us registered while you two deal with the merchant?" Amie suggested.
Piper cocked a brow. "Avoiding something are we? Wouldn't have anything to do with Galen's fetching new bodyguards, now would it?" She gestured towards the twin sellswords ahead. Amie's expression soured.
"It's not because of them. It's because of them." She pointed to a throng of women, both young and old, who were gathered around Galen's tent. They appeared very interested in the young bodyguards, giggling and whispering behind cupped hands. "Ugh. Birdbrains, all of them. I'll be back." Piper and Bevil just smiled at her retreating back, then turned to each other and shrugged.
Galen's broad, sun-lined face smiled brusquely. "Ah, a Starling lad, hello there." Bevil nodded. "And, why, you're Daeghun's ward, isn't that right? Ah, Pip?"
Piper laughed. "Well, that's one of the better names I've been given. Better than PipeSqueak or Piper the Gutter Sniper, I suppose." A blank expression covered his face. She cleared her throat instead and motioned to the cart laden with goods. The merchant's smile turned to a smug grin.
"Good, good. Just bring them inside, if you will."
She and Bevil spent a while hefting all the goods and negotiating price in Galen's blue and gold striped tent, which smelled oddly of cheese. His hard-nosed bargaining was as shrewd as ever. Perhaps shrewder with the knowledge of Piper's connection with Daeghun, for he was among the most prosperous of the villagers. If she had been inclined, she would have pointed out that Daeghun was also a minimalist of the worst sort and did not give a fig about gold. But what would a merchant with a silk-lined tunic and golden rings adorning every finger understand of such things?
Still, the clutter earned a nice sum of money, a little over two hundred gold. She used it to replenish Daeghun's salt and spice canister, and to purchase a set of modest metal cookware. Daeghun would frown on the latter of course, so if push came to shove, Piper could gift the set to Retta as a farewell present. Retta never lacked in gratitude, what with seven children to mind, not to mention Bevil whom oftentimes ate as much as the livestock.
The furs, on the other hand, only earned eight gold in the trade with the duskwood bow. But Daeghun would be pleased. Piper didn't fancy herself a connoisseur of bowery but the craftsmanship was exquisite, the bowstring tension just perfect; it fit comfortably underneath the cart's burlap blanket.
Amie approached the wagon, rolling her eyes at the peal of giggles that came from beside the tent.
"Oh, Piper, don't forget. We need some coin from Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate."
"Ah, making a trip?" Galen asked, entering the sunlight again. He was apparently attuned to the mention of anything that might require his goods.
Piper nodded enthusiastically. "Mmhmm. Just me and Amie here. Down to Waterdeep to walk the halls of New Olamn, across The Trade Way, wrapping around into Baldur's Gate for a wine or two at the Three Old Kegs, then down The Coast Way to browse the libraries of Candlekeep for a while, then through the Cloud Peaks and over to Athkatla to visit Arbalest's House and hear the Bellows of Milil played out into the harbor."
Galen bowed his head, eyebrows raised and mouth pressed tight in appreciation. "Ambitious. It would be wise to hire a fighter or two for that kind of journey." He passed his eyes over the twin sellswords, both of them giving him a look of identical surliness, then turned to Bevil. "Or maybe your brawny friend here could get the job done." Bevil shifted uncomfortably.
"Oh, we've tried persuading him, but there's nothing for it." Amie patted him on the arm.
"He's a homegrown family man through and through." Piper smiled at him; he did not return it. "But yes, we need some foreign coin if you have any."
Galen stroked his grizzly chin. "Hmm, well you can always exchange coin in the village, city, or city-state where you travel. But the more popular the place, the more congested and irritating the waiting process can be. And, you never know, there might be metal shortages or minting complications at any given time." He smirked. "A merchant always has exotics on hand. Never know what manner of customers the road will bring. So yes, yes. I will trade you some Waterdhavian and Balduran currency for their worth in gold pieces."
Amie and Piper gathered around a money pouch with Galen, calculating the values of the coins and even naming a few of them. They left him with well wishes and found Bevil stroking Glorwen's neck with a frown.
Piper grabbed her reins and steered Glorwen to the animal paddock, tethering her to one of the available posts. She reached into the cart for the duskwood bow.
"Oh, Bevil," she chided, but gently, "I wish you would stop your sulking."
"Yeah. Why don't you quit being a prat and just come with us?" Amie shook him by the elbow.
Bevil rubbed the back of his head, brilliant blue eyes dark with uncertainty and a fair bit of worry. "I...I can't. You know that. The both of you. I've got Mother and the little ones to think of. You two on the other hand are, you know...fancy-free."
Piper chortled. "That's one spin of it. I suppose 'fancy-free' and 'orphaned' are alike in meaning nowadays." When Bevil opened his mouth to apologize, she interrupted. "But...you're right of course. And I wouldn't ask you away from your family during a rot." She smiled. "They are my family as well."
He gave a quiet grin, and was satisfied.
"Speaking of family," Piper lifted the duskwood bow, "I have someone who's not a member of mine to appease."
