Chapter 501 Trade (1/2)
Enid Ruther couldn't decide if she was more tired or invigorated. The council meeting had run late, again, until even Bertold the guild leader had been nodding in his cup. And yet not a single member would say they'd left the gathering anything less than upbeat. Perhaps it was true what her husband used to say and people truly did see the best of each other in the darkest of times. Unlike Derrion, she'd never been forced to confront those dark moments battling in the Dungeon, instead she got to see the best her people could offer now, after their homes and families had been destroyed in such a brutal manner.
To juxtapose such suffering with the incredible community that had sprung up in the middle of nowhere was at times completely jarring, yet unless she was thinking of it consciously it all just felt so natural. Of course the Gorion family would lend their meagre spare supplies to the Tirin's who'd just arrived with nothing but the clothes on their back, why would anyone ever think that they wouldn't?! Or that the builders would happily shove away their dinner and start levelling ground and cutting beams the second Enid knocked on their door and said new houses where needed. She didn't say they were needed immediately and hastened to tell them so but they just shrugged, grinned and got to work.
She'd never seen such an unselfish work ethic in all her life and every day she woke up expecting to find it gone and replaced with more normal greed, but it clung to the community like a stubborn virus. By now even the neighbours were starting to notice the unflinching generosity and dedication of the people, Enid herself had been questioned on it more than once.
[No,] she'd been forced to say, [it isn't normal for people to work like this.]
[Curious,] the ant had stared up at her with its unblinking eyes as it pondered her words, [you wouldn't describe humans as… lazy … would you?]
The insects were normally almost totally void of emotion, but somehow she could sense just how repellent the concept of laziness was to the creature. Which made sense, she supposed, ants were not exactly known for being relaxed and slack creatures.
[Humans can be lazy,] she admitted, [just like any other creature…]
The ant stared at her for a long moment.
[… almost any other creature, I meant to say. Obviously the Colony is excepted from such… weak… fleshy concerns.]
She swore the ant's antennae wiggled a little at her acknowledgement. Thinking back to that conversation caused a slight chuckle to break through the old woman's gruff exterior as she walked through the cool night. In some ways the insects of Anthony's colony were highly intelligent and curious creatures, full of questions and full of an insatiable thirst to learn. In other ways they were like children, incapable of deception and completely certain of their own point of view. Would the monsters become old and jaded, as so many mortal species did? Or would they continue forward forever sure in themselves?
Needless to say, Enid wouldn't live long enough to find out. It was a miracle she was still going, all things considered. At nearly seventy years of age, she was easily the oldest survivor of the disaster. Which was surprising since she'd not gained a whole lot of toughness across her lifetime. Perhaps it was Will keeping her old bones moving?
She rapped at the door of the bowyer and pushed her way in without waiting for a response. A rush of warm air blew past as she stepped blinking into the newly made works.p.a.ce. Wood chips and shavings covered every surface and the air felt thick with it, causing her to cough as she waved a hand in front of her. What she didn't see was her d.a.m.n craftsman.
”Aarran Yewman! Where the h.e.l.l are you? I told you I'd be here after the meeting!”
From another room came the sc.r.a.ping of a chair across the floor and the overweight, balding bowmaker stumbled into the room.
”Keep it down Enid, you old crow!” He growled in his low, rumbling, voice. ”I just sat down to eat my dinner, I've been waiting around out here for more than an hour.”
”Hardly my fault if the meeting runs long, is it?” Enid re-joined. ”Have you taken a look at it yet or have you been slacking?”
Mumbling to himself about the apology Aarran knew he was never going to get, he limped across the room to his work bench and reached up to pull down a long stave of wood from an overhead rack.
”Slacking? Unlike some people who sit around all day and call it work, I've been busy. Take a look at this.”
So saying he tossed the stave toward Enid, forcing her to catch it out of the air with a squawk. The moment she had it in her hands though, her eyes sharpened and her merchant's instincts took over. The wood was smooth, the grain fine. The flex was perfect as well. She brought it closer to her eyes and noted with excitement the slight gleam that ran through the wood.
”This is good stuff.”
”Aye. That it is,” Aarran agreed. ”Those ants have some good stuff in their mandibles there, I'd have worked with wood of that quality probably three or four times in my entire life, and I've been cutting bows since I was five.”
A recent addition to Renewal Village, Aarran was a master Bowyer from a kingdom neighbouring Liria, Holt. It seems that before she came south the hated Garralosh wasn't too concerned if she crossed borders and her monsters had rampaged through many of the border kingdoms. The outriders had ranged far and fast to bring word of this refuge to everyone who could make it and even now more people were flooding in, seemingly by the day. Enid had finally started delegating as much as she needed to and for now things were holding together.
”What sort of enchantment do you think the wood will hold?” She asked.
She had her own opinion but Aarran would know better than her. This was his particular area of expertise, after all.
”Just about any basic enchantment of Earth, Water or Wood affinity I would think. Ice arrows would be a good one, but there's a heap of options. Problem is, I can't do the enchanting myself. Have you lined up anyone to do it for you?”
His tone said that he was doubtful she'd managed that. Several craftsmen were working hard to develop their enchanting skills but none were far enough along that she'd be willing to let them work on such precious material as this.