post at the slip, and Orem was all for jumping ashore. But Glasin glared at him and ordered him to stay. They waited, and soon several men in gaudy southern trousers came to eye them and their raft. "A weaky ship," said one.
Glasin turned away from that man, and faced another. "All oak," he said defiantly.
"Bound with spit and catgut?" the man retorted.
"Good only for lumber," said a third. "And three days' drying to boot. A cart in trade."
"Cart and twenty coppers," said another.
Glasin snorted and turned his back.
"Cart and donkey," said the man who had called it a weaky ship.
Glasin turned around with a frown. "That and four silvers gives you raft and tent."
"Silvers! And what do I want with a tent?"
Glasin shrugged.
Another man nodded. The third turned away, shaking his head. The first man, who had the eye of a hawk, staring open always even when the other was closed, he raised his hands. "God sends thieves downriver disguised in grocers' shirts," he said. "Two silvers, a donkey and cart, but by God you keep the tent."
Glasin glanced at the other bidder, but he was through. The sale was set then.
Or almost set. Hawkeye looked at Orem. "Boy for sale?" he asked.
For sale? Orem was appalled - how could anyone take him for a slave? He had no rings in his
face, had he? He had no branding! But there was the man asking, and the grocer not saying no, but standing, thinking.
"I'm a freeman," Orem said hotly, but Hawkeye made no sign of having heard, just kept watching Glasin. The grocer at last shook his head. "I'm a God's man, and this boy is free." The buyer said nothing more, just tossed two gleaming coins to Glasin, who caught them deftly so they didn't slip down between the logs to get lost in the river. The buyer waved, and four men came up, one leading a sad-looking donkey and cart while the others quickly unloaded the raft and put all that would fit into the cart, piling the rest on the dock. When all was done, the portman nodded, drove a red nail into the post, and walked away.
"They takes it to Boat Island," said the grocer. "They trims it into boards and builds sea ships with it. From Boat Island on out to the sea, the big ships comes and goes. Half my profits is from the raft - the donkey alone would bring me twice that lumber in the north, and the cart is worth all my cargo when I'm buying at the country markets. Now, boy, what is our business?"
Orem didn't understand.
"If you stays and watches my things, if you doesn't let anything get taken whatever they offers you, I give you five coppers when I get back."
"Where are you going?"
"To the market, to get a stall. If I go now, while all the other morning grocers is loading their carts, I get a better place, see. But can I trust you?"
Orem only looked at him angrily. Asking a man if he could be trusted was like asking an unwed girl if she was virgin. The question mattered, but the asking of it was gross insult.
"All right then," said the grocer. "I'll be back. You talks to no man."
Orem nodded, and immediately the grocer was off, trotting heavily among the crowd.
Around him Orem watched the other grocers as they quarreled and traded and disparaged each other's goods. Here and there were portmen standing guard as Orem stood; he suspected that they were being paid a good deal more than a few coppers. It didn't matter. He had learned the abstract values of coins at the House of God, but never in his life had he been forced to learn just how much living could be done on how much money. And even if he had learned, at Inwit all values were changed. Six coppers would keep a good-sized family for a month at Banningside. It was different here.
There were other differences. Orem was not so naive he didn't know what was happening when a golden-trousered man gave a small heavy bag to a man standing guard. The guard turned his back as two wagons were drawn to the absent grocer's pile and the goods were loaded on. Orem listened for the cry of thief to arise, waited to see the crowd giving alarm; but there was no sound. Neither did Orem make a sound, for he was afraid to raise the cry of thief in