living if-"
He stopped talking, because the merchant woman was up and moving away.
He wondered if he'd jumped to conclusions. "Company," she'd said. Only that. He'd made an embarrassing mistake.
The house was empty.
Long after he was in bed, Loria slid in and tickled him awake. There was a ferocity to her lovemaking, and she wouldn't let him talk. She didn't want to talk afterward either. They made love again... unless he fell asleep first... but sunlight blazed through the bedroom window and someone was pounding on the door.
Tim pulled himself out of bed, squinting. Why didn't Loria answer? "Come," he called. He pulled on some pants and went into the common room.
Sharlot Clellan, Drew Bednacourt, Harl Cloochi, and Berda Farrow, all elders of Twerdahl Town, came in from the glare of sunlight. They ushered in three merchants wearing wild colors. Two men, one woman. Tim recognized the dark man named Damon.
"What's it all about?" he asked.
Harl said, "Tim, these are Damon and Milo and Halida, elders of the caravan. They came to us last night, not just to us, you understand, but to all of Twerdahl Town. Tim, this may sound odd-"
The door opened again. Loria and Tarzana.
Tim repeated, "What is this?"
"Loria, dear, we've had an offer," Harl said.
"Right. Did you know they came to Tim last night? Tim, what did they offer you?"
She could have learned that last night. "Job as a labor yutz. Cooking."
The elder Twerdahls stared at the merchants. "You went to him first?"
Damon smiled and shrugged. "We looked for a better bargain. He was reluctant."
Tim couldn't read Loria's expression.
The merchant woman, Halida, said to Tim, "Your elders and mine, they've been talking. We offer a long knife for every twenty days you're gone."
"Loria, is that a good price?"
"Dammit, Tim!"
"Tarzana?"
Tarzana said, "Yes."
"Sounded like it. Haron got less, his first time."
Damon said, "We want you cooking for us tonight, Tim. That means you join us now. You'll be with ibn-Rushd wagon, my family's wagon. Don't take too much with you, no more than you can carry. Don't take speckles. We've got plenty. And Tim-" He smiled. "The more we discuss it, the farther we'll have to chase the wagons."
It was happening faster than he could think, and he was still playing catch-up. "Loria, let's talk," he said, and pulled her into the bedroom.
Dawn light blazed through the window. It was easier to read her face in here. "What's going on?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Oh, a little. They'd have had me cheap if I'd gone with them last night. Now they've got to pay off the whole town, but Loria, do they think I'm for sale? I have a house and a wife."
And a secret that any of three hundred people might speak.
"The old people, they've already taken the knives," Loria said bleakly. She swept the blanket off their bed, flung it high and let it settle on the floor. "We have to pack. I knew they'd have you. You can do things nobody else can. Tim, didn't I try to keep you in the house?" He saw she was crying. "At least I gave you a great send-off. Didn't I?"
"I didn't know I was going."
"T-"
"Great send-off, damn right. Can you come with me?" Her head snapped up, amazed.
"You'd...
"What?"
"Want me?"
"Yes!"
"No. No, I can't. Yutzes are always men."
"What do you want, Loria?"
"I want you to come back. But if you're coming back like Haron Welsh, then don't."
She'd stacked his possessions on the blanket. Coat and shirts. No hat; Twerdahls never wore hats. The skillet from Bloocher Farm had become Twerdahl Town property, and retrieving it would be a mistake. She took his pouch of speckles. "If a yutz carries speckles, they think it's caravan property," she said.
She considered, then added one of the few things she'd brought from the Bednacourt House. It was an old wooden toy model of Cavorite, vague in detail, worn by handling in places.
"That's yours," he said.
She said, "You'd have something like this, if you really grew up here. Take it."
"Loria, what
He stopped talking, because the merchant woman was up and moving away.
He wondered if he'd jumped to conclusions. "Company," she'd said. Only that. He'd made an embarrassing mistake.
The house was empty.
Long after he was in bed, Loria slid in and tickled him awake. There was a ferocity to her lovemaking, and she wouldn't let him talk. She didn't want to talk afterward either. They made love again... unless he fell asleep first... but sunlight blazed through the bedroom window and someone was pounding on the door.
Tim pulled himself out of bed, squinting. Why didn't Loria answer? "Come," he called. He pulled on some pants and went into the common room.
Sharlot Clellan, Drew Bednacourt, Harl Cloochi, and Berda Farrow, all elders of Twerdahl Town, came in from the glare of sunlight. They ushered in three merchants wearing wild colors. Two men, one woman. Tim recognized the dark man named Damon.
"What's it all about?" he asked.
Harl said, "Tim, these are Damon and Milo and Halida, elders of the caravan. They came to us last night, not just to us, you understand, but to all of Twerdahl Town. Tim, this may sound odd-"
The door opened again. Loria and Tarzana.
Tim repeated, "What is this?"
"Loria, dear, we've had an offer," Harl said.
"Right. Did you know they came to Tim last night? Tim, what did they offer you?"
She could have learned that last night. "Job as a labor yutz. Cooking."
The elder Twerdahls stared at the merchants. "You went to him first?"
Damon smiled and shrugged. "We looked for a better bargain. He was reluctant."
Tim couldn't read Loria's expression.
The merchant woman, Halida, said to Tim, "Your elders and mine, they've been talking. We offer a long knife for every twenty days you're gone."
"Loria, is that a good price?"
"Dammit, Tim!"
"Tarzana?"
Tarzana said, "Yes."
"Sounded like it. Haron got less, his first time."
Damon said, "We want you cooking for us tonight, Tim. That means you join us now. You'll be with ibn-Rushd wagon, my family's wagon. Don't take too much with you, no more than you can carry. Don't take speckles. We've got plenty. And Tim-" He smiled. "The more we discuss it, the farther we'll have to chase the wagons."
It was happening faster than he could think, and he was still playing catch-up. "Loria, let's talk," he said, and pulled her into the bedroom.
Dawn light blazed through the window. It was easier to read her face in here. "What's going on?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Oh, a little. They'd have had me cheap if I'd gone with them last night. Now they've got to pay off the whole town, but Loria, do they think I'm for sale? I have a house and a wife."
And a secret that any of three hundred people might speak.
"The old people, they've already taken the knives," Loria said bleakly. She swept the blanket off their bed, flung it high and let it settle on the floor. "We have to pack. I knew they'd have you. You can do things nobody else can. Tim, didn't I try to keep you in the house?" He saw she was crying. "At least I gave you a great send-off. Didn't I?"
"I didn't know I was going."
"T-"
"Great send-off, damn right. Can you come with me?" Her head snapped up, amazed.
"You'd...
"What?"
"Want me?"
"Yes!"
"No. No, I can't. Yutzes are always men."
"What do you want, Loria?"
"I want you to come back. But if you're coming back like Haron Welsh, then don't."
She'd stacked his possessions on the blanket. Coat and shirts. No hat; Twerdahls never wore hats. The skillet from Bloocher Farm had become Twerdahl Town property, and retrieving it would be a mistake. She took his pouch of speckles. "If a yutz carries speckles, they think it's caravan property," she said.
She considered, then added one of the few things she'd brought from the Bednacourt House. It was an old wooden toy model of Cavorite, vague in detail, worn by handling in places.
"That's yours," he said.
She said, "You'd have something like this, if you really grew up here. Take it."
"Loria, what
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