Rise of a Merchant Prince. Raymond E. Feist

a place both strange and exciting to Roo, and exited. At the door, Erik turned to one of the waiters and asked, ‘Where can a man buy a good horse?’

      ‘Cheaply!’ injected Roo.

      The waiter didn’t hesitate. ‘At the Merchants’ Gate,’ he said, pointing along Arutha’s Way, ‘you’ll find several dealers. Most are thieves, but there’s a man named Morgan there who can be trusted. Tell him Jason at Barret’s sent you and he’ll treat you fairly.’

      Roo studied the young man’s face. Brown hair and light freckles marked him and Roo said, ‘I’ll remember you if he doesn’t.’

      The young man frowned, ever so slightly, but said only, ‘He’s honest, sir.’

      ‘What about new clothing?’ ask Erik.

      Jason said, ‘The tailor at New Gate Road and Broad Street is a cousin of mine, sir. Tell him I sent you and he’ll see you right for a reasonable sum.’

      Roo didn’t look convinced, but Erik said thanks and led his friend away. They remained silent as they wended their way through the crowded city streets. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the tailor’s and an hour to select clothing for travel that fit. Erik chose a riding cloak to cover his uniform tunic, and Roo purchased an inexpensive tunic and trousers, a cloak, and a slouch hat. Erik also found a cobbler who provided him with a pair of boots to wear while those left him by his father were mended. Roo had gotten used to going barefoot while aboard ship, but purchased a pair of boots for riding.

      Soon after they were at the Merchants’ Gate and spent another hour haggling for a pair of horses, but the waiter had been truthful with them and Morgan was an honest trader. Erik picked out two sturdy geldings, a bay for himself and a grey for Roo. Leading the horses away with rope halters, they found a saddler, a half-block away and quickly had the horses tacked up and ready to ride.

      Roo settled into the saddle and said, ‘I don’t care how much I do it, I’ll never get to like riding.’

      Erik laughed. ‘You’ve become a better than average horseman, Roo, despite your objections. And this time you can ride without much worry about having to fight while on that creature’s back.’

      Roo’s expression darkened.

      Erik said, ‘What?’

      ‘What’s this “much” business?’

      Erik laughed even louder. ‘There are no guarantees in this life, my friend.’ So saying, he put heels to sides, and the horse moved out briskly toward the Merchants’ Gate and the road eastward. ‘On to Ravensburg!’ he shouted.

      Roo could only laugh at his friend’s merriment, and he followed suit, discovering that this horse was inclined to argue with every command. Taking a firm hand, and knowing that the sooner the battle was fought the sooner it was won, Roo slammed his heels hard against the horse’s sides and drove him after Erik’s mount. Quickly they were outside the city wall, on their way home.

      Rain pelted them, its insistent beat a physical assault. Night was rapidly approaching and the only traffic on the road was local businessmen and farmers hurrying home. A resigned wagon driver barely looked over at Roo and Erik passing as he urged his slowly plodding horses to continue through the mud. The King’s Highway might be the artery that carried the lifeblood of commerce from one border to the other, but when the rains came to the Barony of Darkmoor, the blood didn’t flow, it oozed.

      Erik shouted, ‘Lights.’

      Roo looked out from under the sodden brim of his once handsome slouch hat. ‘Wilhelmsburg?’

      ‘I think,’ said Erik. ‘We’ll be home by tomorrow afternoon.’

      ‘I don’t suppose I could convince you to sleep in some stranger’s barn, could I?’ said Roo, having spent more money on this journey than he had planned.

      ‘No,’ answered Erik without humor. ‘I’m for a dry bed and a hot meal.’

      That image overcame Roo’s reluctance to spend another coin, and he followed his friend toward the lights of the town. They found a modest inn, with a sign of a plowshare swinging in the wind, and rode through the side gate to the stable. Erik shouted, and a lackey came out, bundled against the weather, to take the horses. He listened politely to Erik’s instructions and nodded, and Erik assumed he would be wise to return after supper to see the boy cared for the animals as he ordered.

      They hurried into the taproom and, once inside, shook off the water from their cloaks.

      ‘Evening, sirs,’ said a young girl, pleasant-looking, with brown hair and eyes. ‘Will you be needing rooms for the night?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Roo, obviously displeased at the cost, but now that warmth was returning to his bones glad they were not returning to the weather outside.

      ‘Fit to be blowing up a rare storm tonight,’ said the innkeeper as he came and took their cloaks and hats. ‘Will you be dining?’ He handed the cloaks and hats to the girl, who took them somewhere warm to hang and dry.

      ‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘What wine have you?’

      ‘Fit for a lord,’ said the man with a smile.

      ‘Any from Ravensburg?’ asked Erik as he made his way to an empty table.

      Save for a solitary man with a sword in the far corner and two merchants obviously taking their ease before the fireplace, the inn was deserted. The innkeeper followed them, ‘We do, sir. It’s the next town over, then one more, and on to Ravensburg.’

      ‘So we are in Wilhelmsburg,’ said Roo.

      ‘Yes,’ answered the innkeeper. ‘Are you familiar with the area?’

      ‘We’re from Ravensburg,’ answered Erik. ‘It’s just been a while since we’ve been there and in the darkness we weren’t sure which town this was.’

      ‘Bring us some wine, please,’ asked Roo, ‘then supper.’

      The meal was filling, if not memorable, and the wine better than expected; it clearly had a style and finish familiar to both Roo and Erik. It was the common wine of Ravens-burg, but compared to what they had been drinking the last year and more, this seemed a bottle fit for the King’s table. Both young men fell into a quiet mood, anticipating the homecoming the next day.

      For Roo it was nothing much to do with his past; his immediate family was his father, Tom Avery, a drunken teamster whose only legacy to Roo had been beatings and teaching him to drive a team of horses. Roo was much more interested in seeking out some minor wine merchants he knew and arranging what he hoped would be the start of his rise to riches.

      For Erik it was coming home to his mother and the shattered dream of his youth: a blacksmith’s forge and a family. He had served old Tyndal the smith for years before Tyndal’s death, then a year and more with Nathan, who had been the closest thing to a father he had known. But life took its own course, and nothing seemed to be as he had hoped it would, when he was a child in Ravensburg.

      ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Roo. ‘You’ve been quiet a long time.’

      ‘You haven’t exactly been bending my ear,’ replied Erik, a smile on his face. ‘Just about home and what it was like before.’

      He didn’t have to say before what. Roo knew: before a struggle with Erik’s half brother Stefan ended up with Roo’s dagger driven into Stefan’s chest as Erik held him. After that they had fled Ravensburg and had not seen friend or family since.

      Roo said, ‘I wonder if anyone told them we live?’

      Erik laughed. ‘If they didn’t, our arrival tomorrow will be something of a surprise.’

      The door opened and the howl of the wind caused the two young men to turn. Four soldiers in the garb of the barony entered, cursing the night’s foul weather.

      ‘Innkeeper!’ shouted the corporal