One More Silver Coin

 


The little Yunni were tough traders. It seemed like part ritual and part sport for them.

"Oi, you're killing me! I won't be able to feed my five babies," the Yunni tentmaker exclaimed with elaborate hand gestures. "Do you want them to starve?"

Gar One-eye snorted. "Come on, Fal, they're trying to rob us." But neither man made a move to leave the negotiation. Both were sitting on low Yunni stools, their butts only two hands off the ground. The tentmaker was standing, and he barely matched the men's eye-level.

"Look at this stitching," the Yunni declared, holding up a canvas seam and running a tiny finger along the edge. "Many nights I toiled by candlelight, my fingers aching, my stomach empty."

Fal ran his own finger down the seam. "It gives credit to your skill, my friend. I can go up to nine, but no more." He held out nine silver pieces, then shook his purse to show it was empty.

"Yes, nine is fair...for this tent." The Yunni patted a smaller roll of canvas in his wagon, not the one he was showing off.

"Ya see," Gar One-eye said, elbowing his comrade. "He thinks we're fools. We should go now." He stood from the low Yunni stool. Fal joined him.

"Oi, what will I tell my starving babies?" The tentmaker clasped his hands to his chest. "If I get eleven, I might be able to feed some of them."

Fal nodded gravely. "We cannot let your babies starve. Gar, you got one more silver so we can make it ten for our doting father?"

"Oi," Gar said in unvarnished parody, "you're killing me." He made a great display of searching for his coin pouch, then patting it to let some coins rattle, then seeming to be unable to untie the cord.

The tentmaker frowned and crossed his arms, understanding immediately he was being toyed with.

"Sorry, no silver," Gar said. "Well, except for this one." He reached under his eyepatch and pulled out a small silver coin stamped with the Queen's lion. It glistened with moisture.

The tentmaker recoiled.

Fal held up ten fingers. "So, we have a deal?"






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