The High King's Golden Tongue (Love Is Always Write) by Megan Derr Page B
Authors: Megan Derr
Tags: Love is Always Write
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familiarizing myself with the city. I can translate directly for you, if you're inclined to send the other two on their way."
"Prove it," the Captain replied.
Sketching a half-bow, Allen turned to the two middle men and said in Selemean, "You may go on your way, gentlemen. I speak Outland and Tricemore fluently and can better handle the translation." He flipped them each a half-piece, and they bolted almost as soon as they caught the coins. Holding back his amusement, Allen turned to the shopkeeper and said, "I can serve as translator, good sir."
Turning his attention back to the Captain, he said, "What is the problem?"
"We require several bags of sweetsalt, and cannot come to an agreed price. He is trying to fleece me and I do not appreciate it. This may be one of the only shops to buy it, but it is not the only. I don't have time to haul across the city, but I don't have money to waste either."
Bowing his head, Allen turned back to the shopkeeper and said in smooth Tricemore, "Explain to me the problem."
"He wants six sacks of sugar but keeps offering me half price! I don't care if he is the king's three-headed whore-son, fair price is two silver a bag, and one silver more to cover taxes."
"I see," Allen murmured, and turned back to the Captain. "He says that sweetsalt goes for two silver a bag, plus one to cover the tax, making thirteen in all. In Outland that would be a half-sovereign, to get two bits back."
The Captain stared at him. "That is not what the other one was telling me."
"Currency is tricksome," Allen replied, and took the coin that the Captain held out to him. Extending it to the shopkeeper, he explained everything and was given back two silvers, which he handed off to the Captain.
Money exchanged, the shopkeeper called out to his apprentice to bring the sacks of sugar. The Captain tucked away his coins and said, "Thank you. I know you said you are new to the High King's service, but I do not suppose I could coax you away to work for me? We have demon luck with translators. One decided to leave to get married and be a farmer, another was eaten by a wyrm, and my latest was arrested for gambling debts. I am at my wits' end."
Allen hesitated, not sure how to explain he was less an official translator and more an official prince.
"Please," the Captain pleaded. "We are going deep into the Cartha Mountains and I shudder to think what will happen if I misunderstand a single word of what the clans there will say."
Just thinking about it made Allen wince. The clans of the Cartha Mountains spoke a particularly tricky dialect of Tricemore, which was difficult enough. "How long will you be gone?" he asked, knowing he was doing the sort of stupid thing he had been schooled against doing since he was old enough to walk. His specialties were language, politics, and diplomacy; even a half-wit politician knew better than to gallivant off, let alone with a band of mercenaries. "Of course, I would be happy to help. I'll send word to the palace that you have engaged my services."
"Splendid," the Captain said. "My name is Rene Arseni. We'll be gone several months, is that a problem?"
"No problem at all. I am Allen Telmis," Allen replied, and shook his hand. "I've heard much about the Three-Headed Dragons."
Rene snorted. "I'm sure you have." He looked away as the apprentice finished loading the sugar on the cart Rene had brought with him, already burdened with many other supplies.
"Why so much sweetsalt?" Allen asked. "Are you anticipating doing that much bartering with the Cartha Clans?"
"Yes," Rene said, mouth tightening. "We should probably talk somewhere else, for though I would love to have you along after seeing your skills, I cannot just take on anyone for this particular assignment. It will be hard going, harder than usual, and the violence will be excessive."
Allen nodded. "Shall we adjourn for a drink somewhere, or head back to your camp?"
"I could use a drink," Rene said. "Hold one moment." He
"Prove it," the Captain replied.
Sketching a half-bow, Allen turned to the two middle men and said in Selemean, "You may go on your way, gentlemen. I speak Outland and Tricemore fluently and can better handle the translation." He flipped them each a half-piece, and they bolted almost as soon as they caught the coins. Holding back his amusement, Allen turned to the shopkeeper and said, "I can serve as translator, good sir."
Turning his attention back to the Captain, he said, "What is the problem?"
"We require several bags of sweetsalt, and cannot come to an agreed price. He is trying to fleece me and I do not appreciate it. This may be one of the only shops to buy it, but it is not the only. I don't have time to haul across the city, but I don't have money to waste either."
Bowing his head, Allen turned back to the shopkeeper and said in smooth Tricemore, "Explain to me the problem."
"He wants six sacks of sugar but keeps offering me half price! I don't care if he is the king's three-headed whore-son, fair price is two silver a bag, and one silver more to cover taxes."
"I see," Allen murmured, and turned back to the Captain. "He says that sweetsalt goes for two silver a bag, plus one to cover the tax, making thirteen in all. In Outland that would be a half-sovereign, to get two bits back."
The Captain stared at him. "That is not what the other one was telling me."
"Currency is tricksome," Allen replied, and took the coin that the Captain held out to him. Extending it to the shopkeeper, he explained everything and was given back two silvers, which he handed off to the Captain.
Money exchanged, the shopkeeper called out to his apprentice to bring the sacks of sugar. The Captain tucked away his coins and said, "Thank you. I know you said you are new to the High King's service, but I do not suppose I could coax you away to work for me? We have demon luck with translators. One decided to leave to get married and be a farmer, another was eaten by a wyrm, and my latest was arrested for gambling debts. I am at my wits' end."
Allen hesitated, not sure how to explain he was less an official translator and more an official prince.
"Please," the Captain pleaded. "We are going deep into the Cartha Mountains and I shudder to think what will happen if I misunderstand a single word of what the clans there will say."
Just thinking about it made Allen wince. The clans of the Cartha Mountains spoke a particularly tricky dialect of Tricemore, which was difficult enough. "How long will you be gone?" he asked, knowing he was doing the sort of stupid thing he had been schooled against doing since he was old enough to walk. His specialties were language, politics, and diplomacy; even a half-wit politician knew better than to gallivant off, let alone with a band of mercenaries. "Of course, I would be happy to help. I'll send word to the palace that you have engaged my services."
"Splendid," the Captain said. "My name is Rene Arseni. We'll be gone several months, is that a problem?"
"No problem at all. I am Allen Telmis," Allen replied, and shook his hand. "I've heard much about the Three-Headed Dragons."
Rene snorted. "I'm sure you have." He looked away as the apprentice finished loading the sugar on the cart Rene had brought with him, already burdened with many other supplies.
"Why so much sweetsalt?" Allen asked. "Are you anticipating doing that much bartering with the Cartha Clans?"
"Yes," Rene said, mouth tightening. "We should probably talk somewhere else, for though I would love to have you along after seeing your skills, I cannot just take on anyone for this particular assignment. It will be hard going, harder than usual, and the violence will be excessive."
Allen nodded. "Shall we adjourn for a drink somewhere, or head back to your camp?"
"I could use a drink," Rene said. "Hold one moment." He
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