57: Haggling

We quickly got the guys into the grove and happily soaking in the warm baths. Before that though, Troy gave me a bunch of the money they had gotten from selling stuff a week ago. It was all in obrec coinage, which wasn’t coins, as I’d been expecting, at least, not exactly. They looked like they were bodybuilders or something, smaller in width but taller overall. I guess they were still coins… just like, little chode coins. Ew.

“Let’s go buy a shitload of meat,” Grace blurted as soon as we were back in the room we’d rented in the inn. “Stuff it down in that freezer you made.”

“Definitely,” I agreed wholeheartedly. I was already salivating at the possibility of real meat.

Our search for meat led us out and off the bridge, where we wandered aimlessly until finally asking a guard where we could find a butcher. The guard, taken aback that two mages were both talking to him and doing it in a way that didn’t involve him groveling for some perceived slight, stammered out a response and ran away.

So we trundled off, following the directions he’d given us until we came to a stone building on the market street near the main gate. They had a painted sign depicting a trussed up carcass of some creature, so we assumed it was the right place.

Inside, we found a store keeper who was practically falling over himself to both sell us all the meat we wanted and get us the hell out of his store. Damn, this whole being a mage thing was getting to be a little bit awkward. Everyone was fucking terrified of us.

We ended up getting enough meat to last us weeks, of various cuts and stuff. I don’t know, I’m not a butcher and I have no idea how the unit of measurement they use around here works. I ended up transferring it into my grove right there in the shop while Grace guarded my mark. The buns were tasked with carrying it all down into the freezing room, with the exception of a few bits we’d be cooking later.

Back in town, Grace and I had a mission, to make a god damned fortune. For that, we figured that our new friends would be more than keen to set us up with the right contacts, provided they got a share of the cut. A share that I was more than willing to give, I had never honestly cared about money other than what I needed to survive. Making enough money to give Avonside a good shot at survival though, that was going to be a new experience for me.

We had to ask for directions again, and this time the guard didn’t freak out so hard, especially after I made a massive effort to be polite and kind. It was so much effort though, basically bundling my words up in bubble wrap in order to keep them from fainting or some shit.

That led us on a merry little adventure through the city’s many streets, ramps and even lifts at one point. The place was incredible, and little snippets of magical technology were everywhere. The lifts for example, were powered by compact little magical engines, and I inspected them keenly with my sight. I wanted to know how they worked, and then I’d make Bray build me some. Hell, I could even buy some of those motors, use one for my tree and give the rest to him to take apart.

We found the Stonechasers out the back of the inn they had told us to go to, dealing with securing all of their wagons. The inn itself was built into the cliffside, and the stables were actually more of a large carved out cave than anything else. The hollow space had everything you’d normally expect of a stable and stableyard, complete with teamsters wrestling with stubborn animals.

“Ryn! Grace,” Mer called, spotting us from where she and Otho had been watching the mess with growing amusement. “Welcome to the show!”

“Hiya,” I smiled shyly. Something about the way these two so cheerfully accepted us for everything that we were just… it was a lot.

“What’s got you visiting so soon?” Otho asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from what seemed like a brewing fist fight.

“We had a… business proposition for you all,” I said slowly, gesturing to the Stonechasers at large as I wondered where to start.

“Oh ho!” he grinned. “That sounds like Jerril’s forte,” he mused, before turning to one of the three obrec that were about to hit each other. “Jerri! Get over here!”

“The fuck do you want Otho? I’m busy!” a grumpy old obrec growled. The man was wearing a well cut tunic, close fitting breeches and a cloak that was draped over one shoulder.

“The mages are back! They want to make us stones!” he called, his cheeky amusement at interrupting their argument all but glowing through his expression.

“Stones eh? How on earth will they do that?” he asked, his tempter subsiding as his interest was piqued.

“Uh, stones?” I asked, a little confused. I wanted to make them some money, not stones.

“Money, coinage,” Mer explained with a wave of her hand. “Obrec term for it.”

“Oh, right,” I nodded, glancing over at Grace and finding her looking just as bewildered as I felt.

Jerril the grumpy old obrec had wandered over as Grace and I shared our look, and when my eyes fell on him again, I saw him squinting warily at the both of us.

“Well?” he asked curtly. “Fine young mages you might be, but you don’t seem like you have the power to throw around.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, very confused now.

“You mages, you sometimes sell the things you grow in your groves, yeah? But from what I understand, it takes a lot of power to be just growing trees and whatnot willy nilly, and pardon me for saying so, but you both look to be a little on the younger, greener side,” he explained, but I could tell he was already starting to doubt himself on that front. One of his eyes had gone all squinty.

“We’re not like other mages,” I said cryptically. “I have a bunch of aging logs I can have ready right now.”

“Really now?” he blinked, then I saw the coins rattle around behind his eyes… or, well… stones. “How many?”

“Uh, like twenty five or so for now, but I can grow more too,” I told him self consciously.

“Very interesting…” he murmured, a slow smile creeping across his lips.

“Oh, you have him now!” Mer laughed, appearing beside me to slap me on the back. Sneaky goat lady.

“You can grow what I ask for?” Jerril asked, ignoring Mer.

“Yup,” I nodded. “So long as I have a good enough description or an example.”

It was obviously more complicated than that if I was going to be diving into herbs or medicinal properties, but lumber was well within my abilities.

“Can you grab one of those logs you were talkin’ about? I’d like to see what I’m dealing with, if you don’t mind,” he asked after a few moments of contemplation.

“Uh, sure,” I nodded, turning to Grace. “Guard my mark?”

“Sure,” she said quietly. My girl, content to watch and protect while I brokered deals. She was looking really pretty with the sunlight streaming in from outside to hit her side on like that, accentuating all the angles and curves of her face. I was so damned lucky.

With that image still in my mind, I popped into my grove and walked up the ramp and into my tree. Buns were everywhere now, lounging around in the main foyer, their earlier task having been completed. I knelt down for a second to give one a gentle scratch as I went past. Very good buns.

I chose one of the indian rosewood logs and wrapped my mind around it, dragging it with me back into the mundane realm.

When I arrived, Grace was shuffling awkwardly and trying to make small talk. The look of relief on her face when I popped back into existence was enough to make me want to rush over and hug her.

“This is indian rosewood,” I explained to Jerril the grump. “It’s a tree from human lands.”

“Oh my,” he murmured, bending down to run his fingers over the rough end of the log where the bunnies had cut it down. “It keeps the reddish colouring when it’s polished? What are its uses?”

“Generally it’s used for furniture,” I said, grasping at what little I could remember about it. “It can take a bit of a beating and still look good, so it’s the sort of stuff you’d want to make tables and chairs out of.”

“Girl, if you can get me more of these logs, I can make us both a fortune, assuming that my hunch is true and you’d like us to act as the middle men for you?” he asked, straightening up even as his eyebrow was raised higher in question.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “The locals seem to think we’re going to kill them if they look at us funny…” I agreed sheepishly.

“They would,” he nodded. “About four years back, a bunch of human mages smashed their way through our lands before anyone realised what was happening. They killed a good number of our people’s magic users. Warlocks, mages and even artificers, none were spared. We’re still recovering from the losses, but none were hit harder than the Mossbeds.”

That sounded an awful lot like Fennimore and friends. Makes sense too, is a gross sort of way. While they might all be separated by hundreds to thousands of miles in the mundane realm, the mages were connected much more closely within the Nameless Garden. This meant that a human mage down in Anve lands might have an alliance or friendship with an obrec mage. Ao if you wanted to keep an entire political bloc’s worth of mages from interfering in your plans for world domination, you’d smash them until they were too weak to help their friends.

“Aye, and that led to all sorts of political crap that us Stonechasers thankfully kept ourselves out of,” Mer said with a wince. “We’re lucky, having our lands isolated up in the very north of the mountains.”

A very north that was also close to Avonside… interesting...

“That Eilian that you ran into was part of it,” Otho remarked, clearly wanting to tell the story. “She was forced out of the mountains after she went and bonded with the daughter of the Cherrinbrook clan head. Almost started a war, and now she’s only allowed to visit her fellow mages in their groves, a group that her bonded, I might add, is not a part of.”

Well, that explained how word had gotten over here about us so quickly. If Eilian had been visiting obrec mages to gossip about us, then tales of our exploits were probably halfway around the ring by now.

“Wait, hold on,” Grace blurted, waving her hands. “You’re saying that Eilian the golden fell in love with some boss man’s daughter and that almost started a war? How?”

“That daughter was betrothed to the son of the Timberwild clan, you see,” Otho explained, clearly enjoying his role as storyteller. “The Cherrinbrooks suffered after the human mages attacked same as everyone, but they saw the weakness of the Mossbeds, so they figured if they could secure a blood alliance with the Timberwilds, they’d be able to team up and take a chunk of Mossbed lands.”

“Oh… and then Eilian stuck a spanner in the works…” Grace winced, and I had to agree… that situation could not have been pleasant. Especially if bonding was just two obrec falling deeply in love with each other. No one had much choice when it came to that type of thing.

“Oh that’s not the half of it,” Otho grinned. “This all took place down in the capital city of the Kingdom of Keltan, where young nobles like to go for the summer—“

“Wait… oh my goodness,” Grace groaned, pressing her eyes closed and pinching the bridge of her nose. “What’s the Kingdom of Keltan?”

“Obrec kingdom to the south, like I was saying,” Otho replied, perturbed. “It goes like this, you have a noble house, like ours, the Thistlescars, and we are one house within the Stonechaser clan. Sometimes, a clan or noble house will gain enough power to unify a few clans into a single kingdom. Mossbed, Cherrinbrook, Timberwild, Stonechaser and a few others are all independent clans in the north of obrec lands, each vying for the ability to subjugate the others and form a kingdom.”

“Oh my god,” Grace groaned. “I thought we’d escaped the political bullshit when we left Anve lands.”

Mer gave a snort, “Not by a long shot I’m afraid.”

“That’s a lot of names and none of them mean much to me, I’m sorry,” I apologised. It was true though, they’d just thrown a bowl of word salad at us and seasoned it with political intrigue and a tragic love story. I couldn’t wait to get back to Avonside, where I’d at least understand the political bullshit going on.

“So anyway, like I was saying,” Otho cut in, clearly intent on telling his tale. “They were all down in the capital of Keltan when this happened, and the whole thing started a pitched battle in the streets! The king of Keltan had to kick the whole squabbling lot of them out and—“

“Enough, boy,” Jerril groaned, rolling his eyes before very pointedly turning to me. Right, history lessons later. “Ryn, wasn’t it?” he asked, sounding almost polite. I guess his default setting really was just, massive grump. “I’ll put word out, if you’ll let me keep this log here so I can sound out the local carpenters. Then I’ll get back to you with a price in oh, a day or so, how does that sound?”

“Sure… and uh, how much of a cut will you take?” I asked. I had no idea how to broach that subject, so I just kinda threw it out there.

“Two parts out of ten,” he stated, his voice going all funny and serious. Wait, was he expecting me to haggle?

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Sounds good.”

“Uh,” Mer interjected, staring at me with wide eyes.

I grinned, and if that grin was maybe a little arrogant… well, apparently I was to be feared around here, so why not lean into that a little. “The kind of power it takes to make a tree like that,” I remarked calmly, waving to the rosewood log. “It’s nothing, a tiny portion, barely worth mentioning. I could create an entire forest of these things and still have enough juice rattling around to blow up this inn.”

That seemed to halt the Stonechasers a little, and a few of the bystanders from their clan exchanged worried glances. They didn't need to know that what I'd said wasn't strictly true. Sure, I could grow that forest of trees, but only using the absurd amount of growth energy permeating my grove right now, and of course, I didn't even have an explosion spell.

“I… see,” Jerril chuckled, taking a deep breath. “In that case, how about we only do three parts out of twenty?”

“I guess,” I shrugged again. “Whatever suits you.”

Obrec were damned crazy.

QuietValerie