Page 21 of When the Merchant Met the Orc

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, his red-brown eyes shining.

Halvard and I introduce ourselves, then Archer disappears into the back of the tent. He returns holding a middling-sized sack with a rope handle. Halvard accepts the load of purple turmeric and slings it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. He gives the vampire a nod.

“Will you two be in town this evening?” Archer asks. “There’s a pre-Nocturne gathering happening at the Mast and Sail. My sister-in-law is running it, so I’m forced to ask everyone I see to go. All are welcome. I’m not usually one for parties, but I make an exception for Nocturne.”

Halvard looks at me, a question in his eyes.

It might be good to see what spices these folks use in their holiday foods. “I guess we could go. What do you think?” I ask Halvard.

“I’m always up for a party as long as I get to bed before midnight,” Halvard says.

The vampire laughs. “Do you turn into a monster?”

We chuckle at the old human superstition that involves some mysterious folks who look human but turn into Veil creatures after the stroke of midnight.

“Thanks for the invitation. We’ll see you there,” I say.

Halvard and I aim for the corridor where the market shifts into a row of smaller tables where ship captains set up trade runs with merchants. It’s a quieter area where voices are pitched lower and there aren’t younglings or geese running amok.

Osric is here somewhere. A part of me is disappointed that Halvard’s and my time together is at an end. He really is great company.

Chapter 11

Rychell

Halvard eyes the captains, his gaze bright in the dark, reminding me that he can see at night nearly as well as he does in the daylight. There’s so much I don’t know about orcs, but I do recall that fact now.

“Do you have business here?” he asks.

My stomach twists. He is going to be grouchy about my answer.

We pass a captain wearing an eye patch who is sharing tea with a merchant cloaked in green. Part of their conversation carries over the echoing sounds of the market outside.

“…and if we hadn’t had that magical storm last year, prices would be different. But you must include my risk and the well-being of my crew…”

“I’m meeting Osric at the last table,” I say, finally answering Halvard.

“Oh. Of course.” Halvard’s tone is dark.

I glance at him. “You can enjoy the market on your own while I meet with him if you like.”

“Not a chance. Unless you are ordering me away as my employer.”

I give him a flat look. He is being ridiculous. “Osric isn’t dangerous.”

“How do you know? He could drug you with a cup of tea, Tully style, and have you on his ship and gone before anyone was the wiser. There are boats docked just there.” He nods toward the end of the corridor, where the view of the crowded docks is visible in the bright sun.

He’s referencing what Tully the witch did to get Laini and Rom together. Thankfully, Tully was sternly rebuked for her behavior and has promised never to dose anyone with love potion without consent again.

“But it’s crowded,” I say. “Osric wouldn’t get away with hoisting a sleeping woman to his boat without suffering some questions from the good folks in Honey Sands.”

“He would if he were good at making up a story. My wife here had a bit too much at her brother and his partner’s house today. Poor lass,” he says, using his version of Osric's voice.

I bark a laugh. “That’s actually such a good impersonation of him.”

We work to stop snickering as we find Osric's table. The merchant greets us cordially, and we chat about simple things like the weather, meeting Archer Darkheart, and if we plan on attending the pre-Nocturne party this evening. Osric isn’t going; he has to leave on a short sail down the coast to investigate a crop of lavender he plans to buy.

“Before I go, can we set a date to meet again? I’d like to visit your town since, as discussed, we could live part-time there.”