Whispers of Silence

Chapter 2. The Trade

The main square buzzes with life. I have to stand on my tiptoes to see past the crowd gathered around the huge Millbrook cart. The afternoon sun makes me squint, and the air feels thick with the smell of fresh bread mixing with dust and horse sweat.

"Look at all those grain sacks!" Claire tugs at my sleeve. "Way more than last year!"

She's right - they're stacked so high they almost look like a mountain. I shield my eyes with my hand to get a better view. Her grandfather, Sven, stands in the middle of all the commotion. His white hair shines in the sun, and he's watching everything with that serious look he always has during trades.

"See?" Claire whispers to me, poking my side. "Grandpa's always there, making sure everything's perfect."

I nod, watching as Sven's voice booms across the square: "Gondo! Careful with those sacks - they're as precious as gold!"

Gondo, the village blacksmith, looks like a giant next to everyone else. Under the bright sun, the gray strands in Gondo's beard stand out more than usual against the darker hair, making our village blacksmith look older somehow. I can't help but smile as I watch him work - despite his massive size, his hands move with surprising gentleness, handling each grain sack as carefully as Mom handles her favorite teacups.

"Wow!" Claire bounces next to me, making me wobble. "Look how many sacks there are! Your mom can make tons of apple cakes for the harvest festival!"

"Maybe!" The thought of Mom's apple cakes makes my mouth water. "They're the best in the village."

A young merchant with bright red hair and freckles walks up to Sven. I lean forward to hear better - he keeps wringing his hands like I do when I have to recite in front of the class.

"Mr. Sven," he says, his voice shaky, "um... everyone in Millbrook talks about your mead. I was wondering if... maybe... next year we could..."

Sven looks at him with that half-smile he gets sometimes, the one that makes his stern face softer. "Ah, our mead's made a name for itself, has it? Let's get this grain sorted first, boy. Plenty of time for drinks later."

Everyone laughs, and I giggle too when the young merchant turns as red as his hair. The young merchant's eyes dart to the forest edge, his smile faltering for just a second. It's so quick I almost think I imagined it, but then I notice the other traders doing the same thing - quick, nervous glances at the trees when they think no one's watching.

Claire and I edge closer to the center of the square. When Sven spots us, his serious face breaks into a warm smile. "Well, look who's here! My little explorers! Come to see how trade works?"

"Yes!" Claire practically shouts, jumping up and down. "It looks super important!"

Sven laughs, reaching out to mess up her hair. "That it is, little one. That it is."

"Come here," he waves us closer. "Let me show you how all this works."

For what feels like forever (but Claire says was only half an hour), Sven shows us everything about trading. He explains how they weigh the grain on those huge scale plates, how they check the sacks for bugs (gross!), and even lets us peek at the trading records - though the numbers make my head spin.

"See these numbers?" He points at the book. "Each one means our village will be safe. No one goes hungry this winter."

I lean in close to look at the pages, fascinated by all the neat rows of writing. Claire keeps fidgeting beside me, and I catch her sneaking glances at some kids playing on the other side of the square.

The merchants' hands shake slightly as they stack the grain sacks, their movements jerky and rushed compared to their usual careful precision. They keep glancing at the sun's position, as if worried about losing daylight though it's barely past noon. One drops a sack, earning a sharp look from Sven, but instead of the usual careful recovery, he almost throws it onto the pile in his haste.