Gold wasn't worth much these days, but Evelyn Ford's space needed it. She remained silent, and the woman's confident expression faded, replaced by a growing anxiety.
"Is there a problem, Farm Owner?"
"Did you two walk here?" Evelyn asked, changing the subject completely.
"No, we have a donkey cart tied up outside."
Evelyn nodded. "Alright. I can give you one hundred and fifty pounds of grain and twenty pounds of salt. Go out through this door. No one else can know about our trade."
The woman paused, stunned, before nodding. "Alright. We won't tell a soul."
Evelyn smiled. "What if you get robbed? If someone holds a knife to your throat, you still can't mention our trade. Can you promise that?"
The couple exchanged a look, and the man's expression changed. "We don't want the fine rice. Could we trade for coarse flour instead?"
"Why is that?"
