Free Rise of a Merchant Prince by Raymond E. Feist Page B

Nathan said, “Are you planning on staying long?”
    Roo glanced to where Erik sat studying his nephew, fascinated by the little life before him. “Erik mostly wanted to see his mother and you,” he said tothem. “I’ve got some business. We’ll be gone in a week or so.”
    Nathan whispered. “Better sooner than later, Roo.”
    Roo nodded. “I know. Mathilda von Darkmoor.”
    Milo put his finger alongside his nose and nodded once, indicating Roo was correct in his surmise.
    Roo said, “But Freida threatened Mathilda’s boys’ inheritance. You’re telling everyone that the baby’s Rudolph’s, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes,” said Nathan.
    â€œBut it’s as plain as the nose on your face who his sire is, Roo,” said Milo, looking fondly across the room at his grandson. “There are no secrets in this town. By now the Baron surely knows the baby exists.”
    Roo shrugged. “Maybe, but I overheard Manfred talking to Erik—”
    â€œWhen?” demanded Nathan, his voice an anxious whisper.
    â€œIn the death cell. The night before we were to be hung. He came and told Erik there was no hard feelings; he said Stefan was a swine.”
    Nathan shook his head. “One thing to say that to a man you count dead the next day, another to a rival to the title of Baron.”
    Roo said, “I don’t think that’s a problem; Manfred said there were other bastards, not just Erik. Seems the old Baron loved the ladies.”
    Milo nodded. “That’s truth. I hear there’s a lad over in Wolfsheim who looks a lot like Erik.”
    â€œWell,” said Nathan, “see if you can’t get Erik away as soon as possible. We’ll do what we can to protect little Gerd, but if Erik’s presence calls undueattention to the baby. . .”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do,” said Roo. “I have business, and the sooner I get it done, the sooner we’ll leave.”
    â€œAnything we can do to help?” asked the smith.
    A calculating looked entered Roo’s eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, I could use a reliable wagon—but one that’s not too dear, you understand.”
    Milo’s eyes rolled heavenward, and Nathan laughed at the obvious ploy. “Gaston’s still the only place you’re likely to find a wagon,” said the smith.
    Erik glanced over to where his friend stood talking to the smith and the innkeeper, the three of them smiling while Nathan laughed at something Roo said, and shook his head with a smile of affection. Roo saw the gesture and returned it, as if to say, “Yes, it’s good to be home.”
    Roo was out at first light, only slightly hung-over, making his way to the outskirts of town.
    â€œGaston!” he cried as he came into sight of his destination. The building was little more than a run-down barn, made over to a sort of storage building, with a small shed attached to the front. A sign hung over it, crudely painted hammers, crossed as if they were a noble’s swords.
    As Roo reached the door to the shop, a head stuck out and a narrow-faced man of indeterminate years regarded him. “Avery?” he exclaimed, half-pleased, half-irritated by his manner. “Thought you hung,” he observed.
    Roo stuck out his hand, “Wasn’t,” he replied.
    â€œKind of obvious,” returned the man named Gaston. He spoke with a slight accent, one commonto those living in the smaller backwater towns in the province of Bas-Tyra, but he had lived in Darkmoor since before Roo had been born. He shook Roo’s hand and said, “What you need?”
    Roo said, “Got a wagon?”
    â€œOne out back for sale. She not much to look at; need a little work, but she sound.”
    They walked around the building, a combination carpentry shed, tannery, and tinker’s shop. Gaston was master of no trade, but adept at fixing