Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) by David Lundgren Read Free Book Online Page B

full of wind, but bad news travels twice as fast as good news, and it could be grim for us if he follows through with his threats.” There was a general mumbling of agreement. “Still,” he added, “it seems that against the odds, we now have the money to get the Festival back on track. Which is something to celebrate.”
    Raf was making his way for the door when the Foreman called out, “Well done today, master Gency. I don’t imagine things would’ve turned out quite so well for us if it wasn’t for you.”
    The other Council members added their appreciation with a few pats on the back. His mother sat, looking slightly bemused, and then broke into a reluctant grin.
    Then the Foreman stood and walked to hold open the door. “When you return from your sojourn, perhaps there might be reason to create a junior Councilman role? A third Gency?” The Foreman winked at him, and as Raf stepped out into the night, the last thing he saw before the door swung shut was his mother’s glowing face.
     
    .  .  .  .  .  .  .
    Junior Councilman? Not likely, fumed Raf. I’d rather spend every day doing theory with Ottery than sitting in Council meetings. No, thank you.  
    He wound his way back through the school area, deep in thought as the cicadas buzzed around him. The usual evening hubbub had died down to a calm silence throughout Eirdale, and most homes were pitched in darkness with only the occasional voice that drifted through the fragrant air.
    What a day.. .
    He walked around for what felt like hours and did an entire loop of the center of the village as he pieced together all that had happened during the day. When he got back to the commons, he stopped for a while as he ran through the ridiculous situation that had arisen with the trader.
    Again and again his thoughts went back to what the Foreman had said. What if the trader did spread the word that Eirdale was a bad place to go? It would probably result in even less traders than usual visiting which would be devastating. What if he ruined it for all the future Festivals, too? It was the biggest – and sometimes only - opportunity for the villages in the Forest to do trade. Not to mention somewhere to stay, food to eat, and entertainment for the thousands of people who journeyed here. They’d buy cartloads of local goods and in return, the villages would get essentials that they depended on like medicine, clothing, books and other things - especially metal. Raf himself was the proud owner of an excellent knife that his grandfather had given to him years ago: a foot-long, slim, sharp blade made of high quality steel. It was his most treasured possession and one of only about twenty in the entire village.
    As the canopy platform they lived on was high above the actual Forest floor, mining was physically impossible and metal was scarce. Some types of wood that they used here were very hard, like ironwood, which was a pretty good substitute for metal, but there were some things that you simply couldn’t do without metal for – like carving the ironwood itself. If trade were to stop, it would cause massive problems in every part of their daily lives.
    He stopped walking. The idea that he might be responsible for that sort of problem was awful.
    Maybe I can convince Wesp that it was my fault, or something. I have to try. If he follows through with his threats, it’ll ruin everything.
    He picked up his pace and, shooing away another cluster of peacocks with Orfea, moved swiftly towards the guest quarters. Once he had made it through the last small tract of coffee bushes that bordered the school rooms, he crept up to the back of the guest quarters where Wesp was staying, keeping a wary eye on any movement from the paths in front.
    Working his way around the base of the oak tree, he peered up towards where the trader’s wagon was kept. He panned his eyes around the small commons in front and suddenly spotted a light. A small fire! And three men sitting around it. It