Page 42 of The Scouts

I nodded. ‘That he is. I’d like to buy him.”

“Would you now?” Old Goat’s lips curled in a somewhat humourless smile. He pressed his fingers into a steeple. “You see, I’m of a half mind to keep him. You only get a yugzu like that every fifty years or so.” He offered me another appraising glance. “You’d want him for yourself?”

My ears heated as I shook my head.

“Oh.” Old Goat chuckled. “Like that, is it? You’re looking to get oathed?”

“Not quite yet. I’m still on my first term. But I’m looking to buy him today.” I kept my voice firm and my gaze unblinking. “If we came to an agreement, I’d leave him with you for a couple of years while he grows. And to train him under saddle.”

“Would you now?”

That phrase, repeated in the same sardonic tone, jarred my nerves. Regardless of that, I showed no reaction. “I would, sir.”

“If I were in the mood to sell, and I’m not suggesting I am, I would advise you that it wouldn’t come cheap,” Rakuyés said.

“Nothing worthwhile ever does. I’ll pay the price you name.”

“Hm. That eager, eh?” He cast me an evaluating look. “You do seem to have a pinch of common sense. But coin ain’t everything.”

I met his gaze with a raised chin and no reply.

Old Goat rose from his seat. “So tell me. Are you as handy with the bow as H’agan?”

“He’s better.” Verhan beat me to an answer. He planted his hands on his hips and scowled at the dealer as if challenging him to question it.

Not a small claim, that, but I appreciated the vote of confidence. For myself, I drawled, “I know a thing or two about this and the other.”

“Do you now, laddie?” Rakuyés smirked, scratching his jaw. “That’s grand. See that tobu tree over yonder? Three branches below where that red puffbird just sat? There’s a knar there, you spot it? Think you could hit it?”

I squinted in the direction he pointed. A small, swollen knot protruded from the trunk of an exceptionally tall tobu some twenty elbows off the ground. The distance couldn’t have been farther than a hundred and twenty paces. Sure, it wouldn’t be easy. The awkward angle aside, I didn’t sweat it, though. Not much, anyway. So I nodded.

“On the first try?” Old Goat’s forehead wrinkled as he arched his bristly, black eyebrows in a quizzical expression.

“Aye,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what, Ervyn Morryés of Black Mountain. You stick an arrow in it and I’ll invite you in to talk business.” He hooked his thumb behind him in the direction of his tent. “Hell, I’ll give you a discount and all.”

“How much of a discount?” Verhan jumped on the bartering wagon without batting an eyelid.

Old Goat chuckled, looking Verhan up and down. “Aren’t you optimistic? Say five per cent.”

Verhan blew out his cheeks. “Ten,” he deadpanned. “A good shot like that is worth at least ten.”

“Fine,” Old Goat agreed, unbothered. He clearly considered the possibility of my succeeding as likely as him sprouting a tail. “Ten it is.”

“Very well.” I spat in my hand and extended it towards the breeder.

He followed suit and we shook on it.

Not one to waste time, I pivoted on my heel. I ended up taking no more than two steps towards the place where I left my gear with my father before Old Goat inquired in an amused tone, “And where are you off to?”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “To get my bow,” I said.

“Nah, laddie. You won’t need it.”

“I won’t?” I whirled around again to face the breeder, a queasy feeling rising in my stomach. “How so?”

“You’ll use mine.” He sneered. “We’re of similar height, aren’t we? Give or take. It should do.”