Greenwillow used her crust to sop up the last of her ale and stuffed it in her mouth. "First we collect our wages, before anyone forgets they owe us. Let's go." Getting up from the table, she dropped her mug in a tub by the door and strode into the sunshine.
Unerringly, she marched to the left and up the center of the street. Sunbright had no idea where they were bound, or what their destination was, so he simply trotted along at her side like a child. Housewives and masons and fishmongers and schoolchildren watched them curiously as they passed.
Thinking aloud, Greenwillow said, "We bodyguarded them for six months, give or take. One hundred eighty days… at two silver crowns a day… with two of us… is seven hundred twenty crowns. The traders who survived were fourteen, so that's… fifty-odd apiece they owe us. Cheap enough for saving their lives, and they don't have to pay Dorlas or the other dead bodyguards. Still, I imagine they'll squeal like trapped pigs. We could go to the piepowder court for our wages, but that would take forever. There's one!"
Sunbright was flummoxed by her ciphering. He'd been fuzzy on the whole idea of being paid in coins, anyway. In his tribe, you bargained for the completion of a job, usually for supplies. So what she was doing was a mystery. But he recognized the flag over the shop door. It was a bluebird on a yellow circle, symbol of the house of Sunadram, a middle-aged trader with a yellow beard.
Sunadram was in his shop, which was heaped high on all sides with fabrics in every color. He held an account book, jabbing a finger repeatedly, demanding of his cringing clerks why the figures didn't add up. Greenwillow had to shout his name several times to get his attention.
When she did, Sunadram slammed the book shut and rubbed his face. "Oh, you two. What do you want?"
Sunbright didn't like his tone of voice, and would have punched the man for his insolence, but Greenwillow only spread her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and stated simply, "Our wages for bodyguarding. We kept you alive, so we'll take fifty silver crowns, if you please."
Already the fabric seller was shaking his head. "No, no, no. I pay no bills without a proper invoice. You'll need to write up your request, then have it notarized by the city clerk. I'll consider it then, but you'll have to wait. My shop is in chaos because of my long absence. These idiots can't add two and two without slipping three into their pockets. Now, I'm busy, so good day."
Greenwillow only nodded, which Sunbright found astonishing. The man, who'd bargained fairly at the beginning of the journey, now reneged. By barbarian code, the two fighters could cut him down, chop off his head, then take their pay in money or goods, or else enslave some of these clerks, though they were puny specimens. But Greenwillow only turned for the door.
"Wait!" Sunbright whirled after her, tackle jingling. "What about our-"
"Hush!" She stepped through the door into the morning bustle, then pointed to the doorjamb. "Stand there and be quiet. And sharpen your sword; it must need it."
"It does not! I hone it every night-" But a glare told him to belt up.
Bemused, the barbarian slid Harvester from its scabbard, put his back to the doorjamb, and worked to hone the edge with a fine stone, though he could have shaved with it already. Greenwillow waited, fuming. Inside the shop, Sunadram and the clerks watched and whispered.
It wasn't long before they learned what was to transpire. An elderly woman was brought near the door in a sedan chair toted by two sweating porters. Holding her skirts high, the woman stepped into the mucky street, careful not to dirty her red slippers. A pair of maids who'd walked behind flanked her. The lady glanced at Greenwillow, expecting the elf-maid to step aside, but the warrior instead barred the door with her arm. "Sorry, milady, but Sunadram can't see you. He's putting his shop in order."
"But-" The lady frowned with wrinkled lips. "I need fabric! I need a gown fashioned for Baroness Missos's ball!"
"Sorry, He's too busy," was the stoic reply.
From inside the shop came a gasp as Sunadram ran up, all afluster and abluster. But when Sunbright, still holding his naked great sword, turned curiously, the trader quailed. Greenwillow flipped her nose at the lady, who huffed and reboarded her sedan.
"Gods above!" Sunadram wailed. "You'll ruin me! Do you know who that is? That's-"
"A lost customer," Greenwillow stared him down. "The first of many. If you can't pay your help, you can't do business."
"I'll call the city guard! They'll throw you in prison or chain you in a galley to toil your lives away at the oars!"
Greenwillow shrugged. "You'd have to bribe them to tackle us, two doughty fighters. It would cost more than you owe us."
"So?" the merchant demanded. "Will you spend a month at my door just to get your money?"
"We've naught else to do," Greenwillow replied sweetly. "You can't do much in a city without coin!"
With a groan, the fabric seller hurried back into the shop, knocking clerks aside, and dug around under his counter, counting frantically. Momentarily, he hurried up and counted out five stacks of worn silver coins into Greenwillow's hand. "There! Take your damned wages and get away from here! If I see you again, I'll… I'll…"
"Thank us for escorting you home? I didn't think so. Come, Sunbright. And put your fool sword away."
Befuddled as ever, the barbarian slid his sword home in its sheath. "What was that all about? What was he afraid of?"
Greenwillow chuckled. "It was business, and he was afraid of losing money. Come on. We've got thirteen more merchants to pester."
They repeated the process up and down the street, making for a long morning. But while Greenwillow groused about the constant quibbling, Sunbright took it all with the patience of a herdsman and hunter, and his mellow strength and gentle joshing helped pass the hours. The merchants must have spread the word over the midday meal, for the afternoon's collecting passed more quickly. Some merchants gave the asked-for amount, some dickered to give only their share less what they'd need to collect from their dead colleague's estates, and one, late in the day, even gave them a bonus, an amphora of sunny southern wine and her hearty thanks.
So they got less than they wanted, but not much less, and ended happily, sharing the amphora with curious clerks and lawyers at the Bursting Book where they took their meals. But there was a lot of wine, and the others had gone home before it was finished, so the elf and barbarian, not wishing to waste such a bounty, tried to drink it all. As a result, they got louder and sillier.
Even the serving girls had gone to bed by the time Greenwillow said, "You know, you could almost pass for an elf. In bad light. If you were skinnier."
"Oh?" Sunbright made to throw his booted foot up on the table, but missed and dropped it with a crash. " 'S slippery. No, elveses is handsome, and I'm all scar… scarey… scarredy… chewed up."
"Battle scars don't count," chuckled Greenwillow. She pointed a wavering finger. "Some elf-maids find 'em sexy. Like to nibble on 'em, see where they go."
"Go where?"
"Scars go. And you sing too. Like a bird. Not much for a hu-human man, but like a crow. Or a bug."
"Bugs sing?" Sunbright peered at the ceiling, as if to ask a nearby spider its opinion.
"Sing like birds! 'Cept if they make too much noise, birds eat 'em. Must taste yuckly, yicky, yucky." She stuck out her tongue.
Pointing again, she pronounced, "You respect nature too. Not many whatsits do that." She focused blearily at the bottom of her cup, tilted it up and splashed her chin. "Oops!"
"Oh, your lizard skin! So beau'ful!" Sunbright leaned over the table, knocking her cup crashing, and pawed at the front of her armor to wipe off the wine. Belatedly he saw where his hands stroked, and whipped back. He hit his head on the wall, but didn't feel it.