Give And Take

“Do you belong to anyone?”

“I do.”

Kalada’s eyes widened. She had taken it for granted that the woman was a wandering knight.

A knight with an affiliation could hardly have kept her name from getting around.

Knights who belonged to a house treated that house’s honor as their own to uphold, and so always named their affiliation in a formal duel.

“Oh? Where, then? Doesn’t look like Northern swordsmanship.”

“The White Castle.”

“A knight of Paragon, you say?”

“No. Nanny to the young lady of Paragon.”

Kalada made a show of digging in her ear with her little finger.

“Right. The bodyguard of this little peanut, you mean.”

“I am nanny to Lady Ardine Paragon.”

“Right, right. Nanny-slash-bodyguard—”

“Just a nanny.”

“Hmph. Seems the word ‘nanny’ changed meaning while I wasn’t looking.”

“One who cares for and teaches children.”

“…”

“That nanny, yes.”

“Well, never mind.”

Kalada shrugged. In truth it made little difference to her either way; she was the sort who couldn’t rest until she had gotten hold of anyone she wanted.

“You. Come join the Black Hawk.”

Every evening, Kalada set out drink for the mercenaries who had toiled through the day. There wasn’t a mercenary alive who wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she gladly bore the cost.

And today, she set out meat as well.

“Cheers!”

“To Guild Master Kalada!”

“Long live the North Wind!”

Round tables and square tables alike swarmed with people. Most of them wore fearsome faces, but the free drink and meat had every last one of them beaming.

Pai Deluosa sat at the largest round table, the one in the middle of the room. They had even set out a chair sized for a child, and Ardine sipped her orange juice with a contented look. Pai nudged the platter of roast chicken closer to her, then took a wing for herself.

Crunch! The golden chicken, fat running off it, was every bit as good as it looked. Roasted crisp, the skin gave a rich crunch in just the right measure, and the soft meat beneath was clean and light on the tongue.

“Mmm…!”

Pai tore the meat into bite-sized pieces with clean bare hands. As she scooped up a fistful, Kalada came clicking over on her heels, drew something wrapped in thin leather from her pocket, and held it out in one smooth motion.

“It’s salt.”

She whispered it as she worked the cord loose, and the leather opened on white crystals bright as jewels.

Salt was a truly precious seasoning. Pai had lived all the way through the ruin of the world, and even so she had scarcely laid eyes on salt.

She dipped a piece of the white meat lightly in the salt and put it in her mouth. Her jaw tingled and her mouth flooded with saliva! This mad, mouthwatering flavor! Hot steam blew from her nostrils.

Her eyes shone with feeling as she chewed slowly, and Kalada drew the salt pouch back out of reach.

“Say you’ll join the Black Hawk and I’ll give you more.”

“Winning people over with food — that’s dirty!”

“Wipe the drool off your mouth before you talk, sweetheart.”

Pai scrubbed at her mouth with her sleeve, and Kalada drew a sheet of parchment out of her robe and waved it teasingly back and forth.

A contract in one hand, salt in the other.

“Shall we sign a contract? Hm?”

“Ugh, ughhh…! D-dirty… so dirty, khhhk…!”

“Salt for Ari.”

Ardine had been sucking noisily at her fingers beside them; now she spoke up, her mouth and plump cheeks smeared all over with grease. At the White Castle she always had to use a fork and knife, but here she could grab her food and eat with her hands however she liked. Ardine was free!

“Our little peanut, you need salt? There, there, here you are. Eat all you like. Just say the word if it runs short.”

“Mm. And don’t pick on Pai.”

“Pick on her? I’m only being a little pesky. I treated you to drink and meat — surely I ought to get something back for it, hm?”

“But ma’am said before that it was all free.”

“Ma’am…”

Kalada flinched despite herself, then put the warm smile back on.

“Nothing in this world is free, peanut. My, my — looks like you’re in need of a little schooling.”

Kalada perched herself on the edge of the table and crossed her legs. The black dress was slit deep, scandalously baring a thigh as firm and solid as a horse’s.

She spread both arms and swept them lightly through the air, and Pai’s and Ardine’s eyes followed the motion. The pleasantly drunk mercenaries laughed and clapped and sang. Their voices boomed loud as thunder.

“If you think the great Kalada pours drink into these fellows for no reason, you’ve miscalculated. This is a place of exchange. They wash off the day’s weariness, and each lifts the others’ spirits.”

The mercenary trade was hard work. How many ever became mercenaries because they wanted to? Not that there weren’t a few oddballs, but most had come drifting in after flailing about in some reeking gutter.

“One drink, two drinks in, and the tension loosens, the bolts come off. Like fools they trade deep talk, and bonds are formed. Easy to overlook, but the truth is, what this line of work needs most is humanity.”

Pai listened closely to Kalada’s grand speech and nodded along.

Humanity. Yes, I can agree with that. I didn’t know it before I died — but I know it now.

Ardine, who had been listening quietly, shot her hand into the air.

“But mercenaries betray people. Ari heard all about it. Today’s ally is tomorrow’s enemy!”

“And tomorrow’s enemy is the comrade of the day after. Yes — we swindle one another. But that doesn’t mean we don’t trust one another, either.”

“Nngh…”

“A bit much for a little peanut still, I’d think.”

“It’s not too much!”

Her pride wounded, the child scrunched up her brow and huffed air out through her nose.

“Because you can’t go through life not trusting anybody like that.”

At that, Kalada looked down at her with startled eyes, and Pai turned her attention to the child as well. With both grown-ups’ eyes on her, the child swelled with pride and tipped up her round little nose.

“Even friends lie and fight sometimes. But then next time you lend them a book again and play together anyway. If it’s not them, then I’m all alone.”

“…”

“Isn’t that what it means?”

“…That’s right. That’s what it means.”

Pai answered with a soft smile, and Kalada stroked the top of Ardine’s head.

“What a clever little peanut. Your master must be a fine one, then? You wouldn’t happen to have any interest in swinging a sword, would you?”

Having failed to lure the woman in with food, Kalada had settled for tempting the child instead. Before Pai could get a word in, Ardine hauled the salt pouch over in front of herself and spoke.

“Mm. Ari thinks magic is cooler.”

The wind flowing past felt good. March in the North was tolerable, all the same. Once the ice melted, man and horse alike could take to the roads again. The ground turned to muck, of course, and there was no helping that.

Pai stared absently at the mud clinging to the toes of her boots. Dirty shoes were an honor; she had lived a life in which clean ones were a disgrace.

— Rustle.

Even damp leaves made a sound underfoot. Kalada had come out after her at some point, and she draped a robe over Pai’s shoulders. It smelled cozy and warm.

“Not even a coat on you. You’ll catch cold, sweetheart.”

“It’s creepy, so quit it with that ‘sweetheart’ already.”

“A monster, then?”

“…You really do go to extremes.”

Pai’s cheeks were flushed. She had let the wistful mood catch her and taken a drink for the first time in a long while.

In her previous life she had been a wandering knight. From the age of five to sixteen she served a master, though it did not end well. After that she joined a mercenary company for about half a year, but it only taught her that she was, by nature, the sort who traveled alone.

Enjoying her own company did not mean she disliked people. Now and then she needed warmth. She liked the sort who crossed lines as they pleased and came jostling up against her. People who swindled you yesterday and came begging your help today.

Contrary to what the world believed, most mercenaries spent their lives clasping the hand of a foe sunk in the mire and hauling him back up. Give and take, round and round. They were not bound by short-term reckonings; by and large they looked far ahead.

Kalada, a mercenary to the very marrow, looked far ahead as well. She had made good and sure that Pai was in her debt.

“I looked into the thing you asked about.”