The Ninth Talisman by Lawrence Watt-Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

to Sword. That would be . . . odd.
    Normally, people in Longvale married within their own village, since there were so few people who traveled, but with this road open that might change. It would be easy for men from Mad Oak to go courting in Willowbank, or men from Willowbank to come to Mad Oak, and everyone knew that strangers were more interesting than the same old people one had grown up with. That exotic appeal had meant that the local girls had often flirted with guides and bargemen, but only rarely had such flirting led to marriage; the unsettled life of such men held little appeal for most people.
    A road that let ordinary folk travel between towns might be very different, though. A farmer from strange and distant Willowbank might seem more attractive than a farmer from dull old Mad Oak, and the road would make it easy for such strangers to visit. Strangers had been rare before, but that might be about to change.
    In fact, this road crew was probably the largest group of strangers ever to be seen in Mad Oak. Sword wondered whether they themselves realized that.
    He did not speak to any of the road-builders directly, having asked his share of questions earlier and having no desire to spoil anyone’s fun, but he listened with interest when any of their conversations happened to take place nearby. He did not hear anyone mention any changes in courting behavior, but he
did
hear some of the foreigners talk about traders bringing goods up from the south or west.
    He had not thought about that, but of course it made sense. The roads in the Midlands allowed wagons to pass easily between towns, vehicles far larger than any of the carts used in Mad Oak, so that things grown or made in one place could be sold in another. There were often entire marketplaces devoted to such business, and the Midland towns all used coined money to simplify such commerce.
    Mad Oak’s only trade heretofore had been the handfuls of jewelry or spices that the guides brought in their pockets, or the limited variety ofgoods the bargemen brought along the river, and payment had been made in goods and services—mostly beer and barley—so that the town had no currency of its own.
    That might be about to change. Sword was unsure whether that was entirely a good thing.
    At one point he found himself standing between old Brewer and Little Weaver, neither of whom seemed to be participating in the festivities. He glanced from one to the other, then asked, “And what do
you
think of this new road?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Brewer said. “All this talk of traveling merchants—what if they bring that southern wine?”
    â€œWhat if they do?” Sword asked, puzzled.
    â€œWell, then they won’t need my beer, will they?”
    Sword was one of the few people in Mad Oak who had ever actually drunk wine, when traveling in the Midlands and the southern hills. “It’s not the same,” he said. “I think people will still want good ale, especially in the summer.”
    â€œWill they?” Brewer did not seem very reassured.
    â€œI think so, yes. After all, the bargemen always seemed happy to take your beer in trade. And perhaps you could take some down to Willowbank yourself, and sell it there—you might do very well for yourself.”
    â€œDon’t they have their
own
beer in Willowbank? The barges come from the north, but Willowbank isn’t north, it’s south.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Sword admitted. “I’ve never visited Willowbank. But the barges go both ways.”
    â€œMy mother’s worried about whether people will still need our weaving,” Little Weaver said. “One of the road-builders was talking about the fine fabrics he’s seen in the markets of the south.”
    While the local woolens were of excellent quality, Sword remembered some of the fine linens and woven cotton he had seen while traveling. “She may have a