She withdrew a large blanket, woven from the finest of dyed wool. It was a vibrant purple, even in the dusky light, with traces of gold in the pattern. Jack had an inkling it was enchanted; did all the Breccans sleep beneath charmed weavings?
“The blanket will keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer,” Moray explained. “It will also protect you from any harm that might befall you in the night.”
“It’s beautiful,” Adaira said. “Thank you.”
Next, she found a bottle, sloshing with amber liquid. She held it up to a stream of sun, and Moray said, “It’s called gra. A fermented drink that is revered in the west. We consume it only in the presence of those we trust.”
Adaira nodded, appreciating the message, and reached for the last object in the sack. Jack watched, his brow creasing as she withdrew a piece of an antler.
“I couldn’t bring you a dirk,” Moray explained. “Because we had agreed to come unarmed for this first meeting. But you’re holding a hilt in your hand, Adaira. Tell me what enchanted blade you long for, and I will have it forged for you.”
Adaira was quiet, studying the piece of antler. There were countless charms she could ask for. Jack had heard of blades being enchanted with terror, confusion, weariness. There were tales of swords stealing joyful memories from the mortals they cut. Most enchanted weapons held terrible things, emotions and feelings that one would only desire to bestow upon an enemy.
Jack sensed this was a test. Moray wanted to arm her, which felt strange until Jack realized this was his way of measuring Adaira’s true determination to seek peace. It was tempting to ask for the Breccan’s steel. To ask the Breccans to forge them weapons that the Tamerlaines could in turn use against them.
Adaira returned the antler to the sack. She looked across the water at Moray and said, “Forge me a blade with an enchantment of your choosing. I’ll trust your judgment.”
Moray nodded, his expression neutral. Jack couldn’t read the slant of his thoughts, but it seemed Adaira had answered correctly.
“Will you bring our crate to me, Jack?” Adaira whispered to him.
Jack nodded, gathering the blanket and the bottle of gra. The tide was rising; the water was beginning to reach their waists and he felt a tremor of fear as he half-walked, half-waded to their crate. He set Moray’s offerings on the rock and took the box in his hands, bringing it to Adaira’s side.
She felt the rising tide as well and quickly loaded their resources into the boat. A sack of oats. A sack of barley. A jug of milk. A jar of honey with the comb. A bottle of blood red wine. A taste of the east.
“All right,” Adaira said, and Moray began to pull the boat back to him.
He touched each of the offerings, and when he glanced across the water again, a smile had warmed his face.
“Thank you, Adaira. This is generous of you and your clan,” he said. “Now I would like to ask when you can visit the west. Both my mother and my father are keen to meet you and learn more of the trade you dream of.”
No further preamble. This was the heart of the matter. Jack was tense, waiting for Adaira to speak. He still didn’t think the visit was a good idea. Even if he was with her, there was only so much he could do to protect her. He wasn’t Torin. He wasn’t a guard. He was a musician who was siphoning away his vitality to sing for spirits.
“It might be another month or so,” Adaira replied. “I’m unable to give you a determined date at this time.”
She wanted to settle the mystery of the missing girls first, Jack knew. She wouldn’t even consider leaving the east until the lasses were returned to their families.
“Very well,” Moray said. “We can wait, although I do believe we need to establish a place for trade to happen, and the best way to do so will be through a visit. I don’t think we can continue to pass goods back and forth in this cave.”
“No,” Adaira agreed. “I do want to see the west and your people. But perhaps you could visit us first?”
Yes, Jack thought. Let the Breccans take the initial risk.
Moray’s smile stretched wide. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible, for a number of reasons. The first is that my clan would never allow it, given how many Breccans have been killed on Tamerlaine soil by your captain and his guards. But if my people see you come to us first, Adaira, it would diminish that fear.”
“I fail to see the rationale in that,” Jack said tersely. “Your people have been killed in the east because we have had to defend ourselves from your violence.”