“Oh, we don’t… we don’t have much coin.” Erik held a hand out refusing the fruit.
“Nonsense. A gift. Travelers must eat.” Kjalarr pushed the basket into Erik’s hand. “Try them!” He smiled a genuine smile.
Erik pulled one from the basket. The berries were plump, fresh, and better than any he’d ever eaten. Tove obviously agreed after her grudging bite of the first one. She plucked four more from the basket and ate them greedily.
“If I might ask, where are you headed? I’ve often found myself jealous of the folk who live out this far. They live such simple lives. Happy, free of worry and pain.”
“We are headed for Lofgrund,” Erik said, not wanting to sound as stern or serious as he had.
Kjalarr frowned. “A complicated place full of danger and pain. But you seem sure.”
“I am.”
Kjalarr gave a sad smile. “Very well, so long as you’re sure of your decision. I would only offer this advice: Once simplicity is left behind, even those who yearn to return most often find they cannot.”
Erik narrowed his eyes at the man. The trader had looked only at him since stopping. Somehow, even through the calm, kind tone of the words, Erik sensed a challenge. His body told him to fight. It screamed a demand to swing from every muscle.
“I don’t want simplicity.” Erik tried as best he could to keep his rising anger from showing on his face.
Kjalarr only kept his calm smile and nodded. “Then, I have work I must be getting back to.”
He walked past them, watching Erik until he was no longer within arm’s reach. The horse and its minder continued on down the road. Despite his unease at turning his back on the trader, Erik started to walk again.
Tove tossed the berries away when they had walked on a bit. “There was something odd about him, don’t you think?”
“Odd is a way to put it.” Erik looked over his shoulder, the cart was still drifting into the distance. “The sooner we’re in Lofgrund, the better.”
chapter|10
They weren’t far from the next town when Tove turned to Erik and stared at him for a while. She finally spoke up when he started staring back at her.
“How do you cook things?”
“You cook things.”
“Not here. Where you come from.”
“Ovens. Microwaves. Stove tops.”
“I know ovens. They’re expensive. We had two of them in the bakery in Kvernes.”
“No, not… they still use those kinds of ovens for some things, but most people don’t own those. They have smaller ones.”
“Small… everyone has an oven?”
“I’m pretty sure everyone has an oven.”
“Wow. And what’s a microwave?”
“Yeah, I didn’t really think of how to explain this before I said it.” Erik pulled in a deep breath. “We have this thing called electricity.”
She gave him a blank stare.
“Right, most people basically consider it a magic box that makes things hotter without fire.”
Tove screwed up her face. “You’re mocking me.”
He laughed. “I’m not! They’re real. How am I supposed to explain that when you don’t have toilet paper?”
“I’ve heard of paper. For writing important stories on. Did you write in the toilet?”
“Oh god, see? There’s so much… You’d wipe with it.”
She looked shocked. “With paper?!”
Erik threw his hands up. “It’s not weird! It’s a little weird… but it’s way better than sheep’s wool. Not that it matters, there’s really no way for me to show you.”
The sun had just passed the midpoint of the sky when they came across a small town, just smaller than Kvernes. The houses here were a wider mix of styles with longhouses toward the outer edge and less stylistic wooden houses nearer to the center of town where a small stream ran through under a simple bridge.
“Do we need supplies?”
Tove nodded, too busy looking suspiciously at the people around to answer aloud. A rotund woman beckoned them over.
“Come now, you two! Travelers are welcome ‘ere. And I expect yer ‘ungry.”
There were a few benches outside of the door the woman was shouting from. Erik walked over with Tove sticking close behind him.
“Simple stew, but it’s cheap.” She smiled wide. “Farthing each.”
Erik pulled a whole silver coin out of his pocket, having nothing but the five he’d been paid at the farm.
“It’s all I’ve got, whole coins.”
“No coin cutter?” She gave him a queer look.
Erik shook his head. “No, I don’t…”
She nodded. “Not a problem. Set yourselves down and rest a spell.”
With that, the woman went into the house and Erik offloaded the pack. He sat first and Tove sat beside him.
“They seem normal enough,” Tove said. “I’ll call myself happy that they’re not so interested in us as I’d expected.”
Erik looked around, seeing the people of the town mostly ignoring them in stark contrast to Kvernes. “Hopefully it stays that way.”
The woman returned with two bowls of stew and soft white bread. She handed the bowls to Erik and turned to pop back into the house. She returned much more quickly this time, holding an iron tool that was hinged at the end.
“Let me split them coins for you. It’ll make things easier if you mean to buy supplies anyway.”
Erik pulled a coin and handed them to the woman with a slight hesitance, but she placed the coin face down into a circular plate on the press and pressed the thin, dull ridge protruding from the other side down onto it. The coin made a small clinking noise as the tool cut in to a cross-line drawn into the back.
“You want ‘em in farthings?”
He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but nodded and she turned the circular bit a quarter turn, pressing again, splitting the coin into four. She dumped them into her hand, showing him two before pocketing those and handing the other two back.
“You need any more done? Might do to split ‘em now. Some folk ain’t so honest and charge. Silly, I says. A smile sells more stew than tricks.”
Erik pulled two more coins and
