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Chapter 31

Trading Season

Over the next weeks, we traded with the villagers and Makura of Makura bay. It turned out that sting-berry juice, when diluted in ammonia, were a valuable dye.

We took to displaying our flag on the bottom of our longboats, as the Makura complained of other boats that did not pay them proper tithes. Then those boat owners took us to court, claiming we had paid the Makura to attack their longboats.

They feigned outrage at the idea that they needed to pay the Makura for passage.

“Is that a dock, those workers are building?” I asked.

.....

“It does appear so.” Gamilla said.

“Human greed.” Madonna said, “Even for so little profit.”

“Rhishi, they’re gonna steal our trade, and ruin our prices.” Kismet complained.

“Gamilla, do we have enough profit for our next venture?”

“The cursed temple?” she asked. “Meaning no disrespect, but we really need an expert for that.”

“Have we had any luck contacting Miss Turner?”

“The Explorer’s Society won’t tell me where she is.” Kismet said. “Only that she’s not expected back before the winter storm season.”

“Gamilla, any leads on our next trade opportunity?”

“I didn’t have leads on this one. I thought this was just going to be a bust.”

“So, back to visiting new tribes?” I asked.

“I don’t understand why we’re just giving up, here.” Madonna said.

“As you pointed out, it’s not really enough profit to be worth fighting over.”

“But we’re doing our trade this time?” Gamilla asked.

“Of course.”

“Boss, have you noticed the Makura getting more twitchy?”

“I imagine they weren’t expecting as much traffic as they’re getting.”

“I just got a bad feeling, is all.”

“All the more reason to call it a trading season for this port.”

“Yeah, it might be just nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. The Makura were furious, claiming we hadn’t paid in over a week.

I sent.

I sent them an image of our flag.

They sent back a blank flag, and another. And one with a vague black-on-white image. Oh. The Makura were colorblind.

“Yeah, we’re going to need to remake our flags with pigments the Makura provide.”

“Must we? I thought we were abandoning the port?” Madonna asked.

“We may return, next trade season.” I said. “Or perhaps later.”

“What about heading to Angra-nur?”

“I don’t recall hearing about it.”

“It’s an old Itzuni settlement.”

“Kismet, what can you tell me about Itzuni?”

“Huh? Not much. Blood cult, sacrificed themselves into extinction. Liked making obsidian into weapons. Nasty piece of work.”

“But definitely extinct?”

“Nobody claims their blood lineage, at least not that I know of.”

“Well, I guess we’ll hire a vessel that has a marine squad aboard when we get back to the Girdle, then.”

#

“But those tend to be military vessels, so we were directed both here and the Guild of Mercenaries and Sundry Employees.” I explained to Lord Kellough.

“The Explorer’s Guild is not for single outings. It exists to support map-makers and archaeologists, anthropologists and naturalists. It is for those dedicated to the scientific, methodical exploration of Athal. Certainly not for tomb-robbers and relic raiders.”

“Does that make them enemies?” Madonna asked. “May I eat him now?”

She’d learned enough to use Goblin, which few among the islanders spoke.

“Not yet. He’s just not helping.”

“And I shall not help, nor shall the Guild of Explorers. Eating people, really!” Few among the islanders, but apparently Lord Kellough did.

“So NOW are they enemies?” Madonna asked, once we were back on the streets.

“Still not enemies.” I said.

Lady Martine of the Guild was also not helpful. “Without a valid explorer’s permit, I’m afraid your right to despoil document isn’t enough.”

“Of course, we’ll cover hazard pay and feeding of the troops.”

“The Guild simply cannot afford to expose ourselves or our members to that manner of legal reprisal.”

Madonna stopped stirring her coffee. “I notice the word afford in that sentence, Lady Martine.”

“Indeed.” She produced a wooden placard, with different rates upon it.

I didn’t stop a gasp. “This is – a matter that we’ll have to discuss with others of our company.”

“Gamilla’s not going to be happy.” Madonna sounded like she was.

“You don’t need to be HAPPY with the rates for what you’re asking.” Lady Martine said. “But if you want our members to work under such conditions, you must pay enough to compensate us appropriately.”

We thanked her for her time, and the coffee. “The coffee wasn’t that great.” She said.

Dejected, I returned to the inn. “Where is Narces?” I asked. “It’s time for his plan.”

Kismet smiled around half of a candied apple. “He knew. Left shortly after you did.”

Gamilla asked, “What were the Guild rates?” And then, “For that much money, maybe we should consider Kismet’s idea. Adventurers for hire.”

“Somehow, I don’t think we’d get the same rates.” I said.

“Even my ... improper complexion ... isn’t as alien to them as any of the rest of you are.” Madonna added.

“How does it feel to be the token human?” Kismet asked.

“Am I going to have to take my lunch to another table while you ladies duel with words?”

“We aren’t the ones who require that, ambassador.”

“It is cowardly of you, husband.”

I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes, and ordered when the barwench came around. “Two ales, today, Dania.”

“Ale and a refill.” She cheerily said back to me.

“No, dear, the second ale is for me.” Madonna said. “I don’t understand. I know she heard me, why do you get words, and I only merit a wink?”

“Have you ever tipped the poor woman?”

“Wasted money? Never.”

“T-I-P-S. To insure proper service.” Kismet told her.

“No, surely you are joking.”

I sighed. “Human. Greed.”

“Human greed.” Gamilla confirmed.

#

Toward mid-evening, two scruffy looking lowlives hauled a very drunken Narces through the inn door.

.....

Gamilla waved at them. “That’s one of ours, we’ll take him off your hands.”

“Damn it.” Madonna said. “Now we won’t learn anything until tomorrow, and less if he remembers nothing.”

But I put him across my shoulders and hauled him upstairs to his bed. His boots stank as though he’d been storing fish in them, as did his feet. Maybe it was time for another spa day?

“Is there a bath-house?” I asked when back downstairs. “A place one could go just to bathe?”

“What’s wrong with here?” Gamilla asked. “Four bathtubs, somewhat private, what’s not to like?”

“We weren’t going to say anything, but you are getting rather musty, Rhishi.”

“I was just thinking of something between normal bathing and a full spa day.”

Madonna stretched. “It is about time for another spa day.”

“I thought it was a waste of resources?” Gamilla asked.

“If it’s wasting his resources instead of mine, why not just enjoy it? Oh, on the topic of resources, they are selling pet monkeys in the marketplace.”

“And are you ready to tell us why you need a monkey?” I asked.

“You COULD just say no.”

“Or, I could decide, rationally, based on why you need a monkey.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet, at least.”

I shrugged, spreading my hands helplessly. If I were a hellion, what would I want with a monkey? But I’d wasted enough time on that speculation, and my brain refused to chase the idea without food.

We made small talk for the few hours until dinner. Well, small talk being what we knew about Mendez island, claimed by the Neonen, and the local people, and the Itzuni temple at Angra-nur.

Trade values were down for obsidian goods, and there was no local market for Itzuni artifacts, even if we found an unlooted room of the temple.

“What are you hoping to find, there?” I asked Madonna.

“Something of no value to the Neonen or local people.”

Gamilla coughed. “Little Madonna, when I told you a woman needs to keep her secrets, that is not what I intended.”

“A knife, Rhishi. She wants some old stone knife.” Kismet said.

“An old ritual knife. For purposes of my personal task.”

“And does the island have anything of interest to us?”

“The natives mine and fashion jewelry with a blue stone, lapis lazuli.” Gamilla said.

“Hrm. And the Neonen allow foreign traders to just purchase them?”

“Of course not, we’ll need to get a permit in Neo Esteban.”

“I recall that being in the southwest portion of the Isles.”

“Yup.” Kismet said. “Just south of the dragonwyr. We might even see him, if we’re lucky.”

“Or if we’re unlucky.” Madonna said. “Fire and wooden ships mix too well.”

“Says the hellion who breathes fire?” Gamilla asked.

“Dania, refill!” I called.

#