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"Mae gova
From the stiff way he shaped the words he'd learned strictly from books; the Ranger version had become more like a living tongue, and they'd had to make up a good deal to fill in the irritating gaps-words for "sexual intercourse" and "to pee," for instance.
Astrid's face blossomed into a smile, and Eilir knew wryly that she'd made another slave for life; she answered in the same language, then shifted into English:
"I know your father to be a brave man and a good friend," she said to the boy. "It's good to know his son is a scholar of the ancient tongues as well!"
Much of the covered space was loose-boxes for horses, and there was enough room for their mounts and a little to spare. Hatfield and his staff helped with easy competence, and his son practically flew around ru
Got that youngster under your spell, Alleyne signed a few minutes later, his blue eyes laughing, as they walked out into the street. And really, you know, the languages aren't all that ancient.
He might make a Ranger, someday, Astrid replied. Or at least a Dunedain friend. And who's to say they're not really ancient? Are dragons and rings of power any stranger than the Change?
She turned to the assembled Rangers. "All right, how many of you know how to handle money? Really, I mean."
About a third raised their hands, some uncertainly; the confident ones included all the few Dunedain from the city and its lands. The Rangers had all been twelve or younger at the Change, and few of them remembered using currency at all well. Money had only come back into circulation in the last couple of years, starting with Corvallis and the Protectorate. The Bearkillers had their own mint, but the Mackenzies hadn't bothered; neither folk made much use of coin as yet.
"Everyone gets two silver dollars each," Astrid said. "You can get a room and your meals for longer than we'll be here on one, at a good tavern. Two is the price for a pretty good horse, or a sword. So be careful while you're shopping! You should have some left over when we leave. And remember, you're on best behavior. The honor of the Dunedain Rangers is in your hands! Not to mention our secrets; use Sign or Sindarin if you have to discuss anything confidential."
One of the Dunedain gri
A girl about his own age thumped him on the top of the head. "Talam e-gass," she said. "You're using the five horses stand under the willow tree as a make-out line?"
Talam e-gass was another compound of their own coinage, added to the Elvish stock. It translated roughly as asshole.
Astrid snorted. "What part of best behavior didn't you understand, Dathar? And nobody goes off on their own-pairs of anamchara together at least. We'll meet each morning at Hatfield's."
They nodded solemnly, and Eilir pulled the pouch out of her jerkin and handed over the dime-sized coins; about three-quarters bore the beaver head of Corvallis, and the rest a mix of the snarling bear mask of Mike's Outfit and Arminger's Lidless Eye. Those made her palm itch, but it was good silver and you couldn't avoid using it, since the Protectorate had been minting money the longest and made the most. Everyone coined to the same fineness and standard weight, anyway.
Eilir cocked an eye upward. Between the clouds, the fog and the short winter day, it took experience to estimate the time. Then she looked at the signs of the eating-houses that congregated along lower Monroe Street. The smells were appetizing, and included the scent of frying fish.
Anyone else feel like lunch first? she signed.
"A good idea," Alleyne said. "Never bargain on an empty stomach."
"That was a good bacon cheeseburger," Astrid said over her shoulder. "I hate to admit it, but sometimes I just get tired of roast venison."
Tired of food? Eilir signed ironically, making her eyes go round; she'd had pizza lavishly strewn with dried shrimp.
They all laughed as they headed up Fourteenth on their way to Polk; deer were abundant in Mithrilwood: sometimes too abundant. So much so that salt pork stewed with lentils and dried onion was a relief occasionally.
"Even the Fellowship got tired of lembas," Alleyne said. "I liked the grilled chub with herbs, personally."
"At least in winter the deer lasts long enough you can trade for something else before it goes off," Hordle rumbled. "I take a good deal of fueling up, I do. It's not 'ealthy for me to go off me feed."
Since he'd just put away three platters of crab cakes, several pounds of what he insisted on calling chips rather than French fries, and vegetables on top of it, nobody argued. The four of them had also shared a green salad, a scandalous luxury in January, when the winter-gardens were giving out; some of it came from the old University greenhouses, and it had cost as much as the rest of the meal together.
Astrid and Alleyne went first down the crowded sidewalk. Eilir watched with tender amusement as Astrid's hand moved out towards Alleyne's, drew back, then darted out and gripped his fingers. Her own arm was tucked through John Hordle's-which took some arranging, even though she wasn't a short woman by any means. Their eyes met, and Hordle's rolled up. She knew exactly what he was thinking: Seven months, and they're just up to holding hands in public?
Eilir scowled at him and then gave her silent giggle; it was sort of fu
Amusement died when they came up to the old brick-built Victorian structure that housed the consulate of the Protectorate, and alertness replaced it. A ba
Something's up, she thought.
The building usually made do with the discreet plaque reading "Portland Protective Association" to keep from provoking the citizenry. The four-horse carriage that had just drawn up outside it was unusual as well, very like a Western stagecoach except much fancier and with pneumatic tires, with brass and lacquered leather and glazed windows with sashes drawn across them, and a different blazon on the doors-a blue-mantled Virgin Mary standing on a submissive-looking dragon.
Even after what must have been days of travel in the wintertime the vehicle still had a subdued dark gleam, and the horses looked reasonably fresh. The outriders were four men-at-arms in full fig: conical helmets with nasal bars that splayed out to cover the mouth over mail coifs, knee-length short-sleeved hauberks with the skirts split up the middle for riding, plate or splint protection on shins and forearms; the destriers had steel chamfrons on their heads and peytrals to protect their chests. They'd diplomatically left their lances somewhere else, their swords were peace-bonded, and their four-foot kite-shaped shields were slung diagonally across their backs from left shoulder to right hip by the guige straps, point-down like a country-singer's guitar in the old days. They swung down and let grooms lead their mounts away to the stables behind the house, taking position around the carriage facing out with their arms crossed over their chests, standing with a relaxed alertness like so many hunting dogs.