Page 2 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“T,t,heeee,” he sounds out.

“The.”

Nodding, he stares at the columns of print. “The king deeeee…”

I follow the word with a finger. “Declares,” I say.

Nate clears his throat and starts again. “The king declares a new market day in Kingstown,” he sounds out slowly.

“Very good.”

Nate wrinkles his nose. “I can’t rememberthe. It looks weird.”

“It does.”

We work our way through each of the headlines and start on the advertisements.

“A life partner,” Nate says, "for trade, for co, com, commm..”

“Companionship,” I say gently. “That is a big word.”

“It’s huge! What’s it mean?” he asks.

“Friendship. Enjoying someone being around. Doing things together.”

His lips turn down and he narrows his eyes. “Why is there an advertisement for a friend?”

“I don’t know. That is odd.” I look closer at the ad.

Are you a pleasant person who would like to marry without the fuss of love? Want someone who will support your endeavors and invite you to support them in theirs? Marriage can be viewed as a contract rather than a romantic notion. If you’re reading this and it sounds appealing, visit 1345 Coast Crane Lane, Honey Sands, and ask for Master Osric Breakwave anytime this month. I would love to talk!

Nate has moved on to our second regular reading activity—counting the vowels—but I can’t turn my focus from the ad. It’s like I wrote it. That’s exactly what I want. I didn’t realize it until this moment, but it is. A commitment and a cure to loneliness without the hassle and heartbreak of love. This ad is meant for me. It’s fate. It has to be, considering I already have a trip to the port town of Honey Sands planned.

“Ma!”

“What?”

“I’ve asked three times if my count is right,” Nate says.

I hug him. “All right. Sorry. What was your answer to theAs?”

He lifts his chin proudly. “In this paragraph, there are fourteen.”

I quickly tally theAs. “Correct!”

He hugs me and the broadsheet flits to the floor. “Thanks, Ma.”

“You’re such a hard worker, Nate.”

An old woman once told me that you should praise your youngling for things they can control, not for inborn traits, and I always appreciated that tidbit of advice. I think it’s quite sound.

I kiss Nate on the head, and he shifts in my lap to lean back and look at me. He takes my face in his little hands and stares at me intensely.

“Why are you smiling like that, Ma?”

I laugh and tousle his hair. “Because my trip just became even more productive.”

He slides off my lap and flutters his nearly transparent wings. “Proshuckdive isn’t why people smile. You’re mixing it up with fun. Fun is what makes smiles.”