Page 181 of Swordheart
“Immortality. Manhandling.”
“You’ve got better about the manhandling.”
“I try.” He frowned. “Ah—I’m in love with you, too. Did I say that already?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh. Well, I am. For quite a while now. I don’t just gut myself for any wielder, you know.”
Halla winced. “Hopefully you won’t need to do so again.”
“I am looking forward to a long stretch of being human, married to you, and not acquiring too many more scars. And perhaps—oh great god, you’re crying.”
“It’s all right,” said Halla, wiping the tears away with the heel of her hand. “It’s fine. It’s really fine. Yes, I’ll marry you. We’ll work out the rest somehow.”
He kissed her then, and for a little while, neither of them worried about prices or the future at all.
CHAPTER 60
Zale listened to Sarkis’s explanation of marriage price, nodded seriously, and proceeded to ask most of the same questions that Halla had. Then they steepled their fingers and considered.
“On the face of it, it seems obvious,” they said. “Halla has considerable wealth, so her price should be quite high. You, on the other hand, are an itinerant swordsman and also dead.”
Sarkis inclined his head to acknowledge both of these points.
“On the other hand, you come attached to a magic sword, the value of which is considerable.”
“That shouldn’t matter.”
“Hush. You ask the Rat to stand as kin, and the Rat will do so in His own fashion.” Zale frowned. “Now, what constitutes a fair price among your people? You have been expressing things in terms of land and trade goods, but the relative value of trade goods to your people may be different than ours, depending on scarcity and distance to sources. We do not even have an agreed upon exchange rate between our respective currencies.” They rolled their sleeves up. “I am afraid, my dear Sarkis, that we are going to have to do a great deal of math.”
Sarkis put his head in his hands.
“You gentlefolk enjoy yourselves,” said Halla. “I’m going to go feed the chickens.”
Sarkis and Zale spent three days negotiating, arguing about comparative values of precious metals, and during one particularly exhausting period, comparing the trade routes of spices todetermine their relative cost between Archenhold and the Weeping Lands. Since Halla also had Sarkis carrying heavy furniture and beating rugs, this meant that much of the negotiation was shouted across the house.
“Clove oil is not that expensive!” shouted Zale from the front room, where they were working on the catalogue.
“It’s worth its weight in gold!” Sarkis shouted back, dragging a particularly hideous nightstand out of the bedroom.
“Not here, it isn’t! We’ve got a direct trade route with the Devilspine Islands. In your day, it had to go overland through about eight kingdoms and was marked up accordingly!”
“Decadent southern trade routes!”
“Behold the worm that chews upon the throne of the gods!”
Halla put her face in her hands and wondered if she actually did want to marry Sarkis that badly after all.
I must, to be putting up with all this…
On the fourth day, he stomped into the kitchen, slammed a small, clinking bag down on the table, and said, “There!”
“There what?” said Halla.
“The marriage price. Zale negotiates like each coin is a childhood friend, but we’ve agreed.”
“All right,” said Halla, gazing dubiously at the coins. “What do we do with it?”
