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

Learning more.

As he obviously must do.

She was determined to keep this conversation going, and she did not want to hear about hunting, or of pigs.

"You say that you have seen... Thorians?" She dared to ask, now that he had said that name without any obvious consequences.

He nodded. He even laughed at her difficulty using that name.

"Many times."

One could have heard a spider, spinning its web.

Monique felt breathless.

"Can you tell me anything about them without breaking any law?" She fidgeted, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground.

She was still of an age where she could be chosen as a tribute in punishment, and she could be sent out of the city if she overstepped certain boundaries.

He would surely refuse to say anything about them, and she might get into trouble for asking.

However, she pushed on.

"Are they much bigger than you? Are they fierce?"

She waited to see what he would say. If he would say anything.

They waited, breathlessly, edging closer to the fire, sitting around it.

He wouldn't report them. He was also breaking their laws by staying here with them as he was, and even trading personally with them like this.

There was other accommodation for those who needed to stay longer than usual, or he could sleep in a hammock in the same space as his horses as he had done once or twice, but the few times he'd stayed overnight because of the weather; the cold, he generally slept by their fire.

So many rules had been broken.

No one would ever know that, but them.

If he, Stoker, was only a 'half man...?' What must a Thorian male that could kill a mountain bear, be like, though she had seen illustrations of mountain bears in the books they all had access to, and those pictures gave no sense of size. They must be massive animals to produce a hide as big as this one.

She felt a certain reverence, at being allowed to possess it, and to sit upon it after a man had almost... may have... lost his life to get it.

He did not falter but told them what he dared.

"They, the Thorians, are not that much different from me. I am often assumed to be one, even though I am a trader!"

They were startled to hear that. But that had been only the latest of many such surprises for them that evening.

This was all news to her, and to them all.

She was not sure what a Thorian man looked like, having been isolated all of her life in the city, seeing only her own deficient men, and Yunks, until this 'trader' had appeared. And now he just told them that he was close enough to what a Thorian looked like?

They'd assumed he was a Yunk. Maybe he wasn't. They began to look at him again with fresh interest, and to notice much more about him.

He must be related in some way to Thorians to look like one of them, but they would never dare ask that question.

He did not seem to want to say anything more than that, so Monique changed the direction again to what he might be encouraged to speak about.

"Tell me, please, about one of them killing a bear, and taking its claws. How is that done? It must be very dangerous."

She could even see him, this man, doing that in her mind, with that axe, or that heavy sword of his, then that thought cleared again. It had been, for a moment, as though she had actually been there, and this man; Stoker, had been the one wielding that axe.

She began to feel alarmed at the picture painted in her brain, but that fear soon subsided.

Had he ever killed a bear? It seemed like it. She had seen that thought. But that could not be. Yunks never encountered bears, and only Thorians were allowed to kill bears. She remembered that from something she had read.

But maybe he was not a Yunk! He looked very little like any of the Yunks she had ever seen. Though she had seen only one!

He sighed.

"I could tell you, but it is getting late.

"Another time, perhaps."

She persisted gently, encouraging.

"It is not so late. Let me refill that cup."

She was not prepared to let this conversation fade, and if it took more wine to persuade him...?

He had enjoyed their food and wine, and he was also warm.

They knew how to feed a man, and he welcomed the break from the violence and hardship outside of the city with such interesting company. It was not so late.

He could talk a little longer.

She refilled his cup.

It was doubtful he would be able to go anywhere tomorrow with the weather even worsening.

She persisted nicely, so he reluctantly gave in to her insistence.

He had brought this upon himself by letting her see that necklace, and to possess that coat, so he should not mind. Besides, the wine was good.

This was going exactly as he'd intended.

The dog had tried to warn him, but Stoker seemed to know where this was going, and what he was doing. He was also curious to see how she would move this to where she wanted it to be. How people behaved and what motivated them were always interesting to him.

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