"What should we do?" Cresenne asked in a whisper.
"Just keep walking."
"But the gate."
"I know. We'll deal with it when we get there. The captain would have told us if they had laws barring Qirsi from entering the city" She glanced about nervously. "It's not the laws I'm afraid of." "Keep looking right in front of you," he told her. "Don't let them see that you're scared."
Cresenne's nod was almost imperceptible. They covered the rest of the distance without a word, stopping before the Eandi guards who blocked the path that led through the heavy stone gate. There were two of them, both dressed in uniforms that matched that purple and gold flag flying above the fortress and that bore the golden insignia of an eagle. They were large men, as tall as Grinsa, and powerfully built. Both wore helms and armor; both were armed with broadswords.
"What's yar business here, white-hair?" one of them asked, in the strange accent of the eastern Southlands. His eyes flicked for an instant to Cresenne and the baby, but then returned to Grinsa.
"We've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker-"
"That's no' what I asked. Ya intending t' stay here in Yorl, or are ya passin' through?"
"Passing through." Grinsa kept his voice even, but he didn't shy away from the man's gaze.
"What's yar name?"
"Grinsa jal Arriet."
"That's no' a Southlands name," the man said with a frown, though Grinsa had the sense that he wasn't really surprised.
"No, it's not. As I was trying to tell you a moment ago, we've just arrived on the Fortune Seeker from our home in the Forelands. We're new to Aelea, to all the Southlands, really."
"I see. What business d' ya have in th' city?"
"The Fortune Seeker's captain has arranged for us to buy two horses from a farrier here in Yorl. And we need to buy some food as well. After that, we'll be on our way."
The guard nodded, still eyeing him. He gave no indication, though, that he was ready to let them pass. "Ya have th' look of a Weaver, Grinsa."
Grinsa managed with some success to hide his surprise at this, but
Cresenne let out a small gasp. In the Forelands, where fear of Weavers ran so deep, most Eandi were remarkably ignorant about what it meant to be a Weaver. Grinsa had never met anyone among Ean's children who was familiar enough with Qirsi magic to identify a Weaver simply by appearance. If he needed any more proof that they were in a land vastly different from his home, here it was.
"You're right," he said. "I am a Weaver. Is that a problem?"
"Tha' depends on you. Weavers have been known t' stir up trouble now an' again. From what I hear, that's even been true in th' Forelands recently. I don't know how my kind deal with yar kind in th' North, but here, we know how to handle Weavers. Ya remember that."
"I will," Grinsa said, still refusing to break eye contact with the man.
"Can we go now?"
The guard indicated Cresenne with an open hand. "Is she a Weaver, too?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
His expression soured, but he turned to Cresenne, and said, "Are ya?"
"No, I'm not."
At that, a smile flickered in the man's eyes ever so briefly. "All right," he said. "Ya're free t' go." He and his comrade stepped out of the way, allowing them to enter the city.
Only when they were some distance from the gate did Grinsa realize that his fists were clenched, the skin stretched so tightly over his knuckles that it hurt. He flexed his hands and shook his head slowly.
"For all the foolish Eandi I encountered in the Forelands," Cresenne said, "I've never in my life felt as hated as that man just made me feel."
Grinsa looked around, enduring the stares as best he could. "It can't all be like this."
"No. Only half of it."
They found the farrier's shop and stepped inside. At first they saw no one and Grinsa called out a tentative "Hello." Almost immediately a young man emerged from the back. He was tall and lanky, with red hair and bright blue eyes. Seeing the Qirsi, he stopped, his eyes narrowing. "What d' ya want?"
"We're here to see Dren Meigen. We were sent by the captain of the Fortune Seeker."
"Pa!" the young man called, his eyes never leaving the two of them, as if he expected them to attack him at any moment.
A second man stepped into the shop, and Grinsa knew immediately that this was the young man's father. He was the image of the other- same color hair and eyes, same square handsome face. But where the son was merely tall, this man was positively hulking. He stood even taller than his son, and he was broader in the chest and shoulders than the guards at the gate had been. He kept his shoulders somewhat stooped, as if he feared that he might not fit in the shop if he straightened to his full height. Grinsa had never seen a bigger man.
He looked Grinsa over, then placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "It's all right," he muttered to the boy. "Ya're th' ones Rois sent?" "Yes. We're grateful to you for selling us the horses."
"I'm doin' it fer Rois."
"Of course."
The man gestured over his shoulder. "I got 'em out back." With that he turned and stepped out of the shop, trailed closely by his son. Grinsa and Cresenne had little choice but to follow.
They walked through a musty storeroom, and pushed open a door that let them out into a small paddock. The bay and dun were tied at the far end of a plot of wispy grass, but the man and son stood nearer to the door beside a white nag and an old chestnut plow horse.
"Here ya go," the farrier said.
Grinsa shook his head. "Those aren't the horses Captain Dungar described for us."
The man raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look surprised. "No?" He wasn't much of a liar. Probably a man of his size didn't have to be. Who among the Eandi would ever challenge him?
"He said he'd arranged for us to buy the dun and bay over there." "That right? At what price?"
"I think you know the price, sir."
"Surely no' th' twelve sovereigns we talked about fer these two." Cresenne glared at him. "You bastard!"
Grinsa put a hand on her back. "How much?" he asked.
The farrier eyed Cresenne briefly, an eyebrow raised and a small smile on his lips. Then he turned to Grinsa. "I'll give 'em t' ya fer twenty."
He felt Cresenne gathering herself to say something more, but he pressed hard against her back and she kept silent.
"No," Grinsa said. "We'll pay twelve, as you agreed. And we'll take the dun and bay. Again, as you agreed."
"I didn' agree t' any such thing."
"Are you saying that Captain Dungar lied to us?"
"No, white-hair. I'm sayin' tha' ya're lyin' now. Rois knows I'd never agree t' sell such fine beasts, at tha' price, t' th' likes o' ya." He grinned. "And so does every man in Yorl."
Grinsa nodded slowly. This much he'd known already. He had no legal recourse. Dren had signed no papers, and no one in this city would take the word of a Qirsi against that of the farrier, even if they knew the man to be a liar and a cheat. The Fortune Seeker might still be at the pier, but even the captain might not be able to help him. Yes, he was Eandi, but he was also a Forelander, which probably made him suspect in the eyes of the people of Yorl.
"Come on, Grinsa," Cresenne said, still staring at the man, her eyes blazing like siege fires. "We'll get horses elsewhere."
But Grinsa didn't move. "I'm not leaving without the horses we were promised."
"That's fine," Dren said. "Twenty sovereigns an' they's yars."
"So, you admit that the bay and dun were the ones you discussed with the captain."
It took Dren a moment. Then his face reddened. "I joost knew ya was talkin' 'bout them uns."
"You're a liar, Dren. And what's more, you're a bad one."