During the preparations for the Fair, Drannon spent most of his time in the town, living in the room above the tavern and eating all his meals there, but riding up and down the streets and docks all day, supervising, giving instructions, watching the walls of new buildings rise, listening to the Tuvelain- and Poynese-speakers teach each other one another's languages. And amidst all this activity there was one woman whom he kept noticing. She was beautiful, but he didn't notice that at first. It was his business eye that noticed her, his eye for the capable manager and administrator.
By an old tradition that had mostly lapsed, the duke of Trelaninth had a right to forty days of labor from all his vassals, a class that included most of the farmers in the lands around Trelaninth but probably not the townsfolk, especially those who had arrived during the Tuvelain occupation. The Tuvelains, however, still felt their residency in Trelaninth was insecure, so they wanted to curry favor with the duke. Drannon had given a general order in mid-July for the farmers and townsfolk of Trelaninth to work for forty days on preparations for the Fair, in fulfillment of their obligations, but he exempted many who said they needed to tend their fields, or who chose not to regard themselves as Drannon's vassals. Despite any rights he may have had under the customary service obligation, Drannon paid one copper coin per day to all who busied themselves about the main street and the waterfront, even those who were preparing booths to sell their own goods, or who were not discernibly doing anything useful, and three to five more to strong men doing hard work, dredging marshes or cutting and hauling wood, or those who brought horses and oxen to help with the work. The result was a scene of somewhat chaotic activity. Amidst this, he noticed, again and again, a small black-haired young woman, with a boy often on her arms or running about near her, who seemed to know everyone, looking around with keen eyes, calling out to men at work, consulting with them, sending them back to work, standing by building sites and gesturing, approaching those who were idle and sending them to perform one task or another. He realized that she had become, through some charisma or self-assurance or recognized intelligence, a sort of spontaneous supervisors of much of the work that was being done.
He began to ask her opinion. "Do you think we need one or two more workmen to get the new inn built in time?" he would ask. Or, "Is the drainage ditch deep enough?" "Who do you think is our best carpenter?" Sometimes she had good answers, and when she didn't, she didn't bluster, but simply said she didn't know. She was respectful, calling him "Your Excellency" and "my lord," but not in the least intimidated. On the sixth interview, he asked her:
"What is your name?"
"Dessa," she said.
"And this is your son?"
"Yes."
"What is his name?"
"Jamail."
"You've been doing good work for me," he said, and took a gold shilling from his pocket. "Here," he said, handing them to her. "A bonus, for supervising the construction work and encouraging the men."
She took it and bowed. "Thank you, my lord."
"If you are willing, I want to promote you to overseer. In the mornings, you will consult with me, and I will tell you what I want done and which men will be under your orders. In the evenings, or if you have questions, you should report to me. You'll keep track of which men work hard so they can be rewarded, and of which are idle. You'll prevent drinking, fighting and roughhousing. As long as you have the job I'll pay you one gold shilling per day." This was more than anyone else involved in the preparations. "Will you agree to these terms?"
"As my lord wishes," she said, and bowed again.
"Good, we'll start tomorrow." Drannon was going to ride away, but he stopped to ask another question. "What do you think of this project of mine, anyway? This fair?"
"It is very good for us, my lord," she said. "The townspeople bless you for it. After the army left, we were left with nothing to do. Not all of us, of course. But many of us. We had little money left and we were afraid. Now there's work for us."
"Do you think it will work? Will we make money?"
"We will make money," she said. "The tavern will. The farmers will get better prices, especially for their oats. Whether you, my lord, will make money, I cannot say. I don't know where your revenues will come from. Will you be trading, yourself?"
"An agent of mine is bringing axes and swords and other iron wares from Little Poyn. I may buy if there are wares for good prices. And there are docking fees for boats, and taxes on the booths."
"If you have the capital, my lord, you might do as well not to make money the first year. If the merchants find the fees light, they will spread the word, and return."
"Yes!" said Drannon, and his face burst into a smile. The advice was not new to him, indeed that had always been his plan, but his pleasure was that this woman-- Dessa-- understood it. She would be fun to do business with.
