“Tom is a trusting fellow,” Barda said, looking around. “Why, we could have come in here, stolen whatever we liked, and walked out again, by now.”
To prove his point, he reached for a small lantern on the shelf closest to him. When he tried to pick it up, however, the lantern would not move.
Barda’s jaw dropped in astonishment. He tugged, but without success. Finally, as Lief doubled up with laughter and Jasmine stared, he gave up. But when he tried to take his hand away from the lantern, he could not. He heaved, cursing, but his fingers were stuck fast.
“You want a lantern, friend?”
They all jumped violently and spun around. A tall, lean man with a hat on the back of his head was standing behind the counter, his arms folded and his wide mouth curved in a mocking smile.
“What is this?” shouted Barda angrily, jabbing his free hand at the lantern.
“It is proof that Tom is not a trusting fellow,” the man behind the counter said, his smile broadening. He put a long finger below the counter, and perhaps he pressed a button there, because suddenly Barda’s hand was released. He jerked backwards, bumping into Lief and Jasmine with some force.
“Now,” said the man behind the counter. “What can Tom show you? And more to the point, what can Tom sell you?” He rubbed his hands.
“We need a good length of strong rope,” said Lief, seeing that Barda was going to say nothing. “And also, something for sore feet, if you have it.”
“Have it?” cried Tom. “Of course I have it. Everything for the traveller. Did you not see the sign?”
He eased himself out from behind the counter and selected a coil of thin rope from a shelf.
“This is my very best,” he said. “Light, and very strong. Three silver coins, and it is yours.”
“Three silver coins for a piece of rope?” Barda exploded. “That is robbery!”
Tom’s smile did not waver. “Not robbery, friend, but business,” he said calmly. “For where else will you find a rope like this?”
Holding one end of the rope, he threw the rest upwards with a flick of his wrist. The rope uncoiled like a snake and wound itself tightly around one of the ceiling rafters. Tom pulled at it, to show its strength. Then he flicked his wrist again, and the rope unwrapped itself from the rafter and dropped back into his hands, winding itself up into a neat coil as it fell.
“Trickery,” growled Barda, glowering.
But Lief was fascinated. “We will take it,” he said excitedly, ignoring Barda’s elbow in his ribs, and Jasmine’s suspicious frown.
Tom rubbed his hands. “I knew you were a man who understood a bargain,” he said. “Now. What else might I show you? No obligation to buy!”
Lief looked around excitedly. If this shop had rope that acted as though it were alive, what other wonders might it hold?
“Everything!” he exclaimed. “We want to see everything!”
Tom beamed.
Jasmine moved uncomfortably. It was clear that she did not like the crowded shop, with its low ceiling, and she did not much like Tom, either. “Filli and I will wait outside with Kree,” she announced. She turned on her heel and left.
The next hour flew by as Tom showed Lief cushioned socks for sore feet, telescopes that saw around corners, plates that cleaned themselves, and pipes that blew bubbles of light. He showed machines to predict the weather, little white circles that looked like paper but swelled up to full-size loaves of bread when water was added, an axe that never blunted, a bedroll that floated off the ground, tiny beads that made fire, and a hundred more amazing inventions.
Slowly, Barda forgot his suspicion and began to watch, ask questions, and join in. By the time Tom had finished, he was quite won over, and as eager as Lief was to have as many of these marvels as they could afford. There were such wonderful things … things that would make their travels easier, safer, and more comfortable.
At last, Tom folded his arms and stood back, smiling at them. “So,” he said. “Tom has shown you. Now, what can he sell you?”
Some of Tom’s goods, like the floating bedroll, cost more by themselves than all the money Lief and Barda had. But other things they could afford, and it was difficult to decide between them.
In the end, as well as the self-coiling rope, they chose a packet of “No Bakes” — the white rounds that expanded into loaves of bread — a jar of “Pure and Clear” — a powder that made any water fit to drink — and some cushioned socks. The pile was disappointingly small, and they had had to put aside many far more interesting things, including a jar of the fire-making beads and the pipe that blew bubbles of light.
“If only we had more money!” Lief exclaimed.
“Ah!” said Tom, pushing his hat a little back on his head. “Well, perhaps we can make a bargain. I buy as well as sell.” He cast a sly glance at Lief’s sword.
But Lief shook his head firmly. Much as he wanted Tom’s goods, he would not give up the sword his father had made for him on their own forge.
Tom shrugged. “Your cloak is a little stained,” he said casually. “But still, I could perhaps give you something for it.”
This time Lief smiled. However uncaring Tom appeared to be, he plainly knew very well that the cloak Lief’s mother had woven for him had special powers.
“This cloak can make its wearer almost invisible,” he said. “It has saved our lives more than once. I fear it is not for sale either.”
Tom sighed. “A pity,” he said. “Ah, well.” He began to pack the fire beads and the light pipe away.
At that moment the bell on the shop door tinkled, and a stranger walked in. He was as tall as Barda, and as powerful, with long, tangled black hair and a shaggy black beard. A jagged scar ran down one cheek, showing pale against his brown skin.
Lief saw Jasmine slipping inside after him. She stood against the door, her hand on the dagger at her belt. Clearly, she was ready for trouble.
The stranger nodded briefly to Lief and Barda, snatched up a length of the self-coiling rope from a shelf, and strode past them to lean over the dusty counter.
“How much?” he asked Tom abruptly.
“One silver coin to you, good sir,” said Tom.
Lief’s eyes widened. Tom had told them that the price of the rope was three silver coins. He opened his mouth to protest, then felt Barda’s warning hand on his wrist. He glanced up and saw that his companion’s eyes were fixed on the counter, near to where the stranger’s hands were resting. There was a mark there. The stranger had drawn it in the dust.
The secret sign of resistance to the Shadow Lord! The sign that they had seen scratched on walls so many times on their way to the Lake of Tears! By drawing it on the counter, the stranger had signalled to Tom. And Tom had responded by lowering the price of the rope.
The man threw a silver coin into Tom’s hand and as he did his sleeve casually wiped the mark away. It all happened very quickly. If Lief had not seen the mark with his own eyes, he would not have believed it was ever there.
“I have heard rumors of strange happenings at the Lake of Tears, and indeed all through the territory across the stream,” the stranger said carelessly, as he turned to go. “I have heard that Thaegan is no more.”
“Indeed?” said Tom smoothly. “I cannot tell you. I am but a poor shopkeeper, and know nothing of these things. The thorns by the road, I understand, are as wild as ever.”