“How much will it cost to travel to Kalnar?”
“For…”
“For one,” she said flatly, and ignored the relief on his face.
“A silver piece. Five for a change of porters at every inn.”
“How much is my debt to Kiya?” She knew the rough figure.
“A hundred golds. And two silvers,” he said with a mirthless laugh.
“And how much have you got?”
“What?”
“How much have you saved, Frando? How much can you raise with this?” a wave of her hand indicated the room’s tasteful fripperies.
“I… eighty.” It was a princely sum.
“I’ll take it all,” she said. “You’ll borrow the rest.” She could see him trying to form an argument, one part of his mind protesting robbery, the other side seizing this faint chance of moral salvation. Morality won, or perhaps love.
“Yes,” he said at last.
“Pay off the debt now.
