brother, and she frets. Tier's only a few weeks late. He'll show up."
"Yes," Seraph agreed. "I'd best be going."
"Didn't I hear you say you had some honey?" he asked.
"Jes found some in the woods last week. I brought a few dozen jars with me," she answered. "But Alinath didn't seem interested in it."
"Hummph," said Bandor, with a glance at his wife. "We'll take twelve jars for half-copper a jar. Then you go to Willon up on the heights, and tell him we're paying a copper each for anything you don't sell to him. He'll buy up your stock for that so he can compete. Yours is the first honey this spring."
Without a word, Seraph took out her pack and pulled out twelve jars, setting them on the counter. Just as silently, Alinath counted out six coppers and set it beside the jars. When Seraph reached out to take the money, the other woman's hand clamped on her wrist.
"If my brother had married Kirah" - Alinath said in a low voice that was no less violent for its lack of sound - "he'd have had no need to go to the mountains in the winter in order to feed his children."
Seraph's chin jerked up and she twisted her wrist, freeing it. "It has been near to two decades since Tier and I married. Find something else to fret about."
"I agree," said Bandor mildly, but there was something ugly in his tone.
Alinath flinched.
Seraph frowned, having never seen Alinath afraid of anything before - except Seraph herself on that one memorable occasion. She'd certainly never seen anyone afraid of Bandor. Alinath's face quickly rearranged itself to the usual embittered expression she wore around Seraph, leaving only a glint of fear in her eyes.
"Thank you, Bandor, for your custom and your advice," Seraph said.
As soon as the door was closed behind Seraph and she'd started up the narrow, twisty road, she muttered to her absent husband. "See what happens when you are away too long, Tier? You'd better get home soon, or those Elders are in for a rude surprise."
She wasn't really worried about the Elders. They weren't stupid enough to confront her, no matter what they thought should be done for Rinnie's benefit. Once Tier was home, he could talk them out of whatever stupidity Alinath had talked them into. He was good at that sort of thing. And if she was wrong, and the Elders came to try to take Rinnie before Tier was home... well, she might have failed in her duties to her people, but she would never fail her children.
She wasn't worried about Rinnie - but Tier was another matter entirely. A thousand things could have delayed Tier's return, she reminded herself. He might even now be waiting at home.
Even hardened by farmwork, Seraph's calves ached by the time she came to the door of Willon's shop near the top edge of the village. When she opened the homey door and stepped into the building, Willon was talking to a stranger with several open packs on the floor, so she walked past him and into the store.
The only other person in the store was Ciro, the tanner's father, who was stringing a small harp. The old man looked up when she came in and returned her nod before going back to the harp.
Willon's store had once been a house. When he'd purchased it, he'd excavated and built until his store extended well into the mountain. He'd stocked the dark corners of the store with odds and bits from his merchant days - and some of those were odd indeed - then added whatever he felt might sell.
Seraph doubted many people knew what some of his things were worth, but she recognized silk when she saw it - though doubtless the only piece in Redern resided on the wall behind a shelf of carved ducks in Willon's shop.
She seldom had the money to shop here, but she loved to explore. It reminded her of the strange places she'd been. Here was a bit of jade from an island far to the south, and there a chipped cup edged in a design that reminded her of a desert tribe who painted their cheeks with a similar pattern.
Some of Willon's wares were new, but much of it was secondhand. In a back corner of one of a half dozen alcoves she found boxes of old boots and shoes that still had a bit of life left in them.