City of Jade

19

BOSKYDELLS

LATE AUTUMN, 6E1

“Well, buccoes, you’ve trained extra hard this past year, and, Pip, you’re fifteen summers old-”

“I’m three moons older,” said Binkton, even as Pipper said, “Bink’s three moons older.”

Arley laughed. “I was just about to say that, my lads.”

“Oh,” said Binkton, as Pipper joined his uncle in mirth.

But then Pipper’s face took on a puzzled look. “So, I’m fifteen?”

“Of course you’re fifteen, Pipper,” snapped Binkton. “Have you gone ’round the bend?”

“No, Bink, what I mean is: so I’m fifteen and Bink’s three moons older; what has that to do with ought?”

Arley smiled, for ever did Pipper pop up with statements that seemed to drive Binkton to distraction. Pipper never seemed to say or ask what he meant to say or ask, and Binkton always took umbrage when he couldn’t follow Pipper’s mental leap-one a dreamer, the other more material.

“Oh,” said Binkton, and he turned to Uncle Arley. “So, what have our ages to do with anything?”

“Just this, buccoes: next spring, as you approach sixteen summers, I think it’s time you put this show on the road and earned a bit of copper for yourselves.”

“Yes!” shouted Pipper.

“Hmph!” grunted Binkton. “I think we were ready last spring.”

“Oh, no,” said Arley, “there’s much more I have to teach you, and this winter is the time to do it. Besides, I can still see places where you need more skill: you, Binkton, in opening locks with nought but a wire as a pick as well as working while hanging upside down; and you, Pipper, need more practice in sleight of hand, and your juggling could use some sharpening, as well. And both of you need to be able to perform all things in all sorts of weather, when you are dripping with sweat in the heat and your hands are watery slick, or when your fingers and toes and every muscle in your bodies are numb with chill. You never know when sudden winds will blow or the rains pour down or swirling dust and grit will blind you, and you’ve got to be safe up on the rope or to get out from the trap you find yourselves in.”

“Hoy,” exclaimed Binkton, “you make this sound like a dangerous business.”

Lost in thought, the eld buccan nodded. “Aye, for many a time, I-” Of a sudden, Arley came to himself. “Harrumph. Well, you just never know.”

“Oh, I’ll work extra hard, Uncle Arley,” said Pipper. “I mean, I’ll try to get better at walking a coin across my knuckles-though I’ll never be as good as Bink, of course-and my filching skills need improvement, and I could get better at-”

“Yes, yes, Pip,” said Uncle Arley, interrupting Pipper’s stream of words. “I’ll help you with all of those, and then next spring and through the summer, but especially the winter after-when the harvests are in and the common rooms are brimming with folks-it’s off to the taverns and inns in the Boskydells, where the pickings ought to be good.”

That night, Pipper said, “Oh, won’t this be the very best?”

Exasperated, Binkton asked, “And what thought flitted through your mind just now?”

“That we’ll have our own coppers and silvers and perhaps even a gold or two, Bink,” said Pipper, his eyes reflecting his boundless enthusiasm.

“About time, too,” grumped Binkton. “I mean, we’ve taken enough of Uncle Arley’s money. We need to be on our own.”

“Uncle Arley’s money,” breathed Pipper, looking about as if to see where the eld buccan might be.

“Oh, come on, Pip, you’re not going to bring that up again.”

“Wull, it’s always been a myst’ry, Bink, and-”

“And you just can’t leave it alone,” snapped Binkton. The buccan plumped his pillow and jerked his covers up around his neck. “It’s Uncle Arley’s, and I don’t care where it comes from. Now go to sleep.”

Pipper lay quietly a moment, but then said, “But Finley Tutwillow, down in Rood, says that once every year a mysterious rider, an Outsider, a Human, no less, comes every Midsummer Day and puts a sack of coins in the Bank of Boskydells. And always about that same time, Uncle Arley says his pension’s come. What do you think that’s all about, Bink? I mean, why would some Human-?”

Binkton’s soft snoring was all the answer that Pipper got, as was usual when he and Binkton speculated in the dark about Uncle Arley’s even darker past.