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"DIASPRA!" Prit yelled, and plowed into the cavalryman, all four arms windmilling.
Fain took a kick to the ribs and flipped the kicker onto his back, then came vertical with a twist and a heave, but by the time he regained his feet, the bar had turned into a giant free-for-all. A club hit him in the side of the face, and he felt a hand pulling at his pouch.
"God bedamned minstrels!" he snarled, and grabbed the itinerant singer by the horns and spun the thieving bastard off into the melee. He ducked another swinging club, catching it on his own horns, and kicked the club swinger in the balls. His assailant went down ... and he suddenly found himself faced by the Northerner and three of his larger friends.
"It's time to clean up this bar," the original troublemaker snarled.
"Let's be sensible about this, folks," the infantry corporal said, although sense seemed to be in short supply. "Nobody wants to get hurt."
"And nobody's go
"Leave my friend alone." Erkum Pol's voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible through the tavern's bedlam, but the order was accompanied by a whistling sound.
"Why?" the original cavalryman scoffed, never looking away from Fain while he raised a large chunk of wood purposefully overhead.
If there was a verbal answer from the simpleminded soldier, it wasn't audible over the sodden thump and the crunch of bones as the hard-driven plank crashed into the foursome.
Fain stepped back as the cavalrymen hit the ground, then grabbed the tabletop before the improvised battering ram could be drawn back for another swing.
"Good job, Erkum. Now, eet's time to pocking leaf."
"But I never got a beer," the private complained.
"Take one," the proprietor said from behind his pile of kegs. "Take a keg. Just get out of here before the Guard arrives."
"They destroy our taverns and i
"Yes, and that's another thing. What with the shortages and all, we don't need all these soldiers waving their money around. It's just driving up prices and leaving the pe
Sual Dal, the representative for the cloth merchant's guild, paused, trying to find the word he wanted.
"Pe
"Don't take this so damned lightly, Til!" the guildsman snapped. "I don't see any of these folks buying sails or any of their silver lining the pockets of my guild. It's all going for beer and cha
"And fish," Til countered. "And whatever other consumables can be found in the city. For that matter, there was a large purchase of fine woven materials lately, wasn't there?"
"It was all material bound for Sindi," the guildsman said with a gesture of resignation. "We practically took a loss."
"Practically and actually are two different things," Til replied. "The problem isn't the soldiers from Diaspra. Nor is it the Northerners. Or even the refugees. The problem is the Boman, and until we get rid of them, we're all going to be taking a loss."
"That's all well and good to say, Til, but it's not so easy to do," Quan said, twisting his rings again.
"No," Til agreed. "It won't be easy, and it won't be cheap, but until it's done, we're all going to do nothing but lose money. Sooner or later, it's going to catch up with us. I'm set pretty well, but I understand that you, Quan, had already paid for a large shipment of copper ore coming out of Sindi. Yes?"
"Yes," the businessman growled.
"And are you ever going to get that shipment?"
"No."
"And how are the rest of your investments doing? Well?" He paused, but there was no answer. "Thought not. As for sails, I don't see any ships being built, do you, Sual?"
"No," the guildmaster admitted.
"On the other hand, the humans are pla
"Ah?" the guildmaster grunted. "Really? That's ... interesting news."
"But to build those ships, they need materials-lots of materials. They were going to just buy some of the ships that had been laid up and take them apart, but if we could retake D'Sley and get the materials from there, it would be much better for them. And, of course, that would mean that they wouldn't be cutting up the already available sails from the ships they'd purchase to make their new, special sails."
"Ah."
"And as for you, Quan, they're discussing a radical new version of arquebus and a new-style bombard. All of them will have to be made somewhere, and if I recall correctly, your foundries aren't doing a lot of business just this minute, are they?"
"Ah." The industrialist thought about that for a moment. "Where's the money for all of this going to come from?"
"Where did the money all these soldiers have been throwing around come from?"
Wes Til leaned back and watched as the concept settled into their minds. Oh, yes, that Eleanora O'Casey was a sly one. Better to do anything to get her on her way before she decided to just go ahead and take over K'Vaern's Cove lock, stock, and barrel! But for now, at least, they were all headed the same way, and O'Casey's shrewd contributions were pushing the ship along nicely.