Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 213 of 619

At first light Ajax woke the camp and walked to where the reader sat by the cold fire. The book was in Chalam's satchel. The reader's staff leaned against a stone. Ajax had slept two hours and thought the rest of the night about what a man with no name wanted from him. "Before we ride," Ajax said, "you tell me what you get out of this." The reader looked up. "I told you. The same thing you want. The basin closed." "That is not payment," Ajax said. "Men do not ride two days for nothing." Marco stood at Ajax's shoulder. He gave one small nod. Listening. The reader set his hands on his knees. "I want a copy of the binding words. My own hand, on my own paper. When Chalam speaks them at the basin, I write them down. That is all. The book goes with you after. Burn it if you want." "Why," Ajax said. "Because there are other things sleeping that no one has found yet. I want to be the man who knows how to hold them." Marco tapped Ajax's arm twice. Then twice again. Chalam came up beside them with his staff. His robe hung open at the chest and the satchel sat heavy on his hip. He had heard. "He copies nothing until the binding holds," Chalam said. "If the ground is quiet, he writes. If it is not, he rides away with empty paper." "Agreed," the reader said. "One more," Ajax said. "You do not speak the words yourself. Not now. Not after. If Marco hears you shape them under your breath on the road, Rowan puts an arrow in your back." The reader was quiet a moment. "Agreed." Marco tapped twice. Ajax looked at Chalam. "Anything else he takes from us." "No," Chalam said. "Paper and ink cost the grove nothing. The words cost him two days in the saddle. The team loses nothing." "Then we ride," Ajax said. They broke camp fast. Rowan brought the horses up. The reader mounted the lead horse from the hollow. His second horse carried water and feed. Chalam checked his vials in order, one through five, and closed the satchel over the wrapped book. Marco took his place behind the reader. Rowan set an arrow loose on the string and rode at the reader's back. By midmorning they crossed the ridge west. The land dropped into pale grass. Two days out, under a chalk ridge, the basin waited. Ajax rode at the front and did the count in his head. Six names for the binding. Himself, Chalam, Marco, Rowan, and two more from the shelf he would name when they arrived. No blood price. No chair. A bargain struck clean and a road under them. He had paid nothing yet. That would come at the basin.