Spell of Intrigue | Page 5

"Hinterlands," said Haddo. "Do not say I, to wish leave I. It the right of
civilized beings is all complain to, admit you must."
"Then what do you want, Haddo? You want another raise?"
"Satisfying current contract is. Rightful appreciation wish I, or
treatment of equality."
Karlini glanced sidelong at Wroclaw. "Wroclaw?"
"I believe Master Haddo would wish either to see you yourself sharing
in the heavier work, or lacking that, to be properly entreated to continue
bearing the burden himself."
"Ahead never get will you," Haddo snapped at Wroclaw, "when coat
your words you sugar with. Question one have I: why beg you not I?"
"You want me to beg you to keep working?" said the Great Karlini.
"Why should I do that?"
"Fringe benefit," Haddo stated. "To contract refer. Also, for you is no
skin off."
"Oh, very well," said Karlini. "Please, please, Haddo, won't you stay
and continue this demeaning but nevertheless essential work? I beg you.
How's that?"
"Bad," said Haddo, "not is."
"What about me?" inquired Wroclaw.

Karlini pushed himself, to his feet and glared at Wroclaw. Then he
transferred his glare to his stool, growled "Do you want me to beg you,
too?" in its direction, abruptly drew back one booted foot and swept it
forward, connecting with one rod of the stool's tripod base with a solid
thunk, and turned and stalked out of the cabin, limping slightly. Haddo
and Wroclaw looked at each other, then stared after Karlini as he made
his way onto the deck. "Fancy that," Wroclaw commented.
The deck of the river barge was covered by bales of fabric wrapped in
watertight cloth, lengths of neatly cut hardwood, barrels of pickled fish,
and whatever else could be sold for more at some other spot on the
river away from Roosing Oolvaya than it had originally cost at Roosing
Oolvaya itself. Over it all were the scrambling members of the crew,
stowing the goods in the center of the craft away from the sweeps or
beneath the benches for the rowers. For all Karlini knew they'd be
covering the benches next; the barge would be traveling downstream,
with the current, so you'd figure there wouldn't be much need for
rowing, but Karlini was the first to admit he was no sailor. He stepped
aside as two wharfmen came up the gangplank from the pier, propelling
a recalcitrant goat between them, and then made his way gingerly
across the deck.
A woman was sitting on the port gunwale, her legs dangling over the
side, wearing the same breech-and-tunic traveling outfit as Karlini. She
had an inkpot balanced on the gunwale to her left, a quill pen perched
behind one ear, and an open ledger book in her lap, and was gazing
with an abstracted stare out across the harbor, occasionally eyeing the
dark-haired young woman seated to her left. Karlini seated himself to
her right, keeping a watchful eye on the inkpot, and gave her a quick
kiss on the cheek. She turned toward him with a small start.
"Ouch," said Karlini. He rubbed at the long streak of black ink now
tracking across his right cheek toward his ear.
Roni dropped the offending pen into her book and set both off to the
side. "What do you expect if you sneak up on me like that when I'm
working?" she said. "Don't do that, you're only smearing it."

Karlini inspected his hand. It was indeed largely covered with ink,
probably a fairly good indication of the likely state of his face at the
moment, too. The young woman on Roni's other side emitted a
strangled yelping sound, her mouth screwed shut and her face contorted
into an agonized expression of controlled repression. Her hand flew up
to cover her mouth as yet another yelp escaped.
"Go ahead, why don't you," Karlini said, a note of what was hopefully
only mock exasperation coloring his own voice. The girl's face
uncorked, a spasm of chuckles spewed out like the cloud of bubbles
from a shaken bottle of carbonated wine, and then she doubled over,
clutching her sides, overcome by the wave of giggling. "I must really
look wonderful this time," he announced with resignation.
"Hold still," said Roni, producing a cloth from a side pocket and
applying it to Karlini's cheek. "Tildy, why don't you go and try that new
problem set, and I'll review it with you later." Tildamire, the oldest
known child of the former Lion of the Oolvaan Plain, managed a nod,
swung off the gunwale, and staggered off across the deck, holding her
exercise book to her chest. "She's a good kid," Roni continued, "and I
think she's going to turn out to have a real flair for math, so don't get
exasperated at her. Promise?"
"Oh, very well," said