THE THORIAN SAGAS: 1. THE TRADER. (Completed).

Learning more.

He told her more about one of those bears.

"You should hope you never see one alive. They do not ever give up their hides easily but fight to the death to keep them."

There were barely glimpsed smiles, and the flutter of soft laughter from the dim reaches around the fire at the way he'd stated that.

That particular negotiation always resulted in death for one, and sometimes for both contestants.

The laughter startled his dog for a moment. The dog was not used to laughter, and got closer to Stoker. Life was always a serious business, and laughter was a distraction.

Stoker did not believe he had said anything funny, so the laughter bemused him, as it did, his dog, but they did not see what he saw, of the price paid for each of those hides.

"There is a skeleton of one in the council chamber, and a stuffed one in Councillor Bradshaw's quarters. I brought them one of the times I came through when I had only a light load."

Bradshaw had met his high price. Not arguing about it. She'd needed reminding that a Thorian warrior had killed those bears, and they reminded her of that every day she saw them.

Monique had not known that about the skeleton, or of the stuffed bear. She was rarely in council chambers, and only ever saw Bradshaw when the chief councillor gave one of her boring speeches or had something to complain about.

She would need to go and see them.

Stoker cradled his cup and sipped of the wine she'd given him to properly conclude that trade.

It was a good wine. One of the best he'd tasted, and it was another reason he never left Fenn without being fully loaded.

She could not let it rest with just the coat.

He'd known she wouldn't. He'd counted on it, but what he started tonight might not end well for any of them, even if it was a year away.

The necklace he was wearing had also captured her interest and was eating at her. He'd seen that interest even as he'd let her glimpse it on his neck as he'd arrived and had opened his coat, apparently without thinking about it.

These Fennians missed nothing.

He'd counted on that.

There was much more to his visit this time than he could explain to her. The storm outside, and the short hours of daylight at this time of year, also played into his plans. He could find some excuse to delay his departure until at least the next day. He could find some harness to repair, a loose rim to see to, or a horseshoe that needed to be re-set. They had a 'Smithy' that saw little use. It was time he made use of it and taught them a few things, but it had taken him almost three years to get to this point with them.

She kept the subject alive, searching for another opening.

"Have you seen one... alive? A Mountain Bear?"

He hesitated before he answered.

"Yes. Several."

He must have been up into the mountains.

His entire audience... resting... but not sleeping, was now quiet, knowing where this would go next, waiting to see what Monique could get him to tell them. They had never had such an open conversation with this, or any other trader before, but the wine and the howling weather outside had brought them all closer together near the fire.

"Was that how you got those scars?" She pointed to his legs and arms, exposed now in the fire's glow.

He shook his head as he swept his hands down his legs, feeling some of those scars. There were too many to remember when he'd got them.