other herbal combinations written on them. “Do I look unhappy to you?” She was restless at times, more so each year while she lived and worked in the Beladine capital and never went more than a league beyond its walls, but she wasn’t unhappy.
Her question made Glauca frown. “No, but we all hide things from each other.” She lined the labels up in front of their matching jars, turning the first one to paint glue on its surface and affix a label. “I don’t want you to be lonely either. All by yourself in your house at night with no one to talk to.”
If Glauca only knew how much Emerence treasured those hours, she wouldn’t worry so much. “I deal with people all day, every day, Glauca. Customers, suppliers, caravans, other merchants. By the time I can escape to my house, I’m desperate for the solitude. You worry for nothing.”
She hadn’t denied being lonely, but everyone experienced loneliness. It wasn’t synonymous with solitude. Emerence dealt with her bouts of it by staying busy, so busy that exhaustion kept it at bay, even on those nights when she fell into bed and wondered what it might be like to share the space with a lover and wake to his presence at dawn.
Thankfully, Glauca let the matter of Yeoman Percivus’s bride search drop, and their conversation turned to the idle chatter and gossip that made the drudgery of inventory replenishment less wearisome. They were interrupted not long after by a harried clerk who burst into the stock room, eyes wide, face flushed. “Mae Ipsan,” he sad on a gasp, using the informal title instead of the more formal “madam” to address Emerence. “Culkhen Goa is back making trouble out front, and there’s a group of Quereci here asking for you.”
Emerence growled under her breath. Her pity for Culkhen’s drunkenness had evaporated when his snake-oil concoctions, sold from the back of his cart, had poisoned a half dozen people. She’d warned folks of the dangers in buying from him, not because he was a competitor but because he was incompetent and dishonest. He blamed Emerence for the loss of his business and had sworn revenge.
“This is the second time in a week he’s come calling,” Glauca said. Her eyes rounded as did the clerk’s when Emerence snatched one of the grabber poles leaned against the corner. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Get rid of a loiterer.” Emerence strode out of the stockroom with her clerk tight on her heels.
The clerks and customers in the apothecary’s storefront only glanced at her as she passed them with her weapon of choice. The apothecary boasted floor-to-ceiling shelves displaying a large selection of jars filled with herbs, unguents, and tinctures. Those who worked in the store often used a grabber pole to reach the items on the highest shelves. This was the first time Emerence had armed herself with one to do battle with a nuisance.
“Go fetch Guzman,” she instructed the clerk who’d brought her the news of trouble and visitors. “Tell him I’ll give him a day’s wage for a half day’s door duty if he comes now.”
The boy nodded and shot past her out the door. Emerence followed, nodding and smiling to a few customers who greeted her. She didn’t linger, and her hand clenched tighter on the pole as the sound of Culkhen’s slurred haranguing reached her ears.
He stood in the middle of the cobblestone walkway, between the apothecary and the drapery, also owned by Emerence’s father. He had his back to the apothecary’s doors while he bellowed his complaints to passersby and those who sought to enter the shops. “You’ll not want to buy from these thieves,” he yelled into the street. “These Ipsans will take your hard-earned coin and sell you toad guts for a cough and moth-eaten blankets to keep you warm on a winter’s day like today.” His glassy gaze returned to Emerence. “Isn’t that right, Madam Ipsan?”
She rolled her eyes. The Ipsan family’s reputation as honest traders of quality goods was well-established. A drunkard’s claims to the contrary wouldn’t harm that reputation. Except for a few gawkers, most people ignored Culkhen and went about their business, but his bellowing presence kept potential customers from their doors, and when he clutched the arm of one bolder, would-be visitor she took action.
Flipping the pole in her hand so that she held it like a washing bat, she swung, striking Culkhen’s backside hard enough to throw him forward. Caught by