Weekly Digest 107 - (#344 - #346)

A Little Wager

The next day, we were back in Covehold bright and early to see the procession of small boats coming down the river and heading out of the bay towards the sea. While the sun was still on the horizon, individual boats were already coming in a steady stream from the river, most using oars and the current to propel themselves, although I saw a few boats where it looked like a Whisperer—or maybe a Mentalist?—was doing the work of moving the vessel around.

There were a few boats docked in the newer docks that Ravia had called the Rickets. From the crowds of people around what looked like carts, they were either there to eat a quick breakfast of whatever was being served or to buy lunch for later.

The older, stone-built docks were still empty, but there was some activity at the warehouses fronting them. As I had learned last time we were at Covehold, the warehouses were where the trade goods of the ships coming in from the old continent were stored, along with the goods they would be coming to pick up. Yhorj guided the Coldhold towards those docks as I sat on the roof of the cabin, trying to spot Ravia, or at least any sign he was already there. The level of the water was low, but we’d managed last time, so it shouldn’t be all that different now.

Fortunately, none of the smaller boats approached us. Perhaps they wanted to get as much work done before it got hot, or get as far out while the waves were still relatively calm. Maybe they had favorite spots they wanted to get to.

At last, I saw movement at the little building that passed for the dockmaster’s office. There were carts coming in, being pulled by pairs of men, with another pair pushing from behind. These carts were full, however, and as I watched they headed towards one of the warehouses near the middle of the line. Early morning was when most of the cart and wagon deliveries around the town were done, because that was when there were the least people on the streets. It was apparently a very small window, because if people were waking up to do deliveries they were waking up to go to work, but those people generally moved in the same direction as the carts, so it all worked out. It was later when people went to market or left their houses to loiter in the relative cool of the streets that they became congested.

I kept looking towards the dockmaster’s office, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else but more of those carts. The wide front door of the warehouse was opened, and the first cart entered, presumably to start unloading so that their good would be ready to get picked up when a ship from the old continent arrived. It was hard to tell what the contents were—the carts had high sides, presumably to keep things from rolling off—but I knew that the most common product sent back to the old continent for beads were seel furs, because they could be washed regularly enough that they weren’t damage by the transoceanic voyage. The price for the furs was, according to Lori when I had brought it up once, artificially inflated because of its relative rarity of coming from the new continent, which apparently appealed to people with ‘more beads than brains’ as she had put it.

As someone who’d never owned anything with fur on it—down-stuffed was much easier to clean, in my opinion—I didn’t know whether or not there was enough of a qualitative between old continent seel fur and new continent seel fur for there to be some kind of basis on the price. If there wasn’t, could a Deadspeaker just… do something to the old continent seels before skinning to fix it?

My musings on the seel fur market were interrupted as I saw someone waving to us from the stone docks. His clothes were dyed, which—oh, that was Ravia! "Yhorj, head for the dock," I called down as I waved back to acknowledge I'd seen him. "Take us to that one where they're waving, he's the one we're meeting. "

"Yes, L—er, Rian! Heading to the dock!"

"Everyone else, get the things ready to move out, we're going to be unloading soon." Ravia should have brought his own containers for the salts since we needed our barrels. I'd made sure that was understood in our discussion yesterday, but… well, things happen.

By the time we were drawing close to the dock Ravi was standing near, he'd been joined by someone wearing a wide-brimmed reed hat with a band of cord wrapped around it. It was a cheap, simple, and in combination with the hat, practical means of denoting position. I wondered if it was something from one of the demesnes in the old continent—despite the scarcity of oceanic travel, there was river boats and river trade—or just something they'd made up here.

"Hey, Ravia," I called once we were close enough. "Sorry, I didn't recognize it was you!"

"Perfectly fine, Rian," Ravia said. "The dockmaster says you can moor here, though we'll need to secure your boat."

"Don't worry, we remember. Hello, Yhoe! Nice to see you again!"

The dockmaster blinked in surprise that I'd remembered his name, but looked pleased nonetheless. "Master Rian, was it? I'm afraid you have to pay a berthing fee if you're going to dock."

"Don't worry, I know," I said. "I remember from last time. Is the price and duration still the same?" At his nod, I called out, "I'll have the beads ready, though I'll need you to change a few."

At his nod, I went down to get some beads from the stash I'd put together from yesterday's adventure in street-level mercantilism. I'd only had twelve of Lori's wispbeads on me yesterday so that my belt pouch would still lie relatively flat under my shirt. After I'd figured out how to not have to give a free sample in the later workshops, I'd been able to sell all the beads for a total of four large small-mid denomination beads and a small mid-large denomination bead. I didn't recognize name of the demesne the beads were cast—I'd never heard of Iliari Demesne—but they had a little Taniar Banking Authority mark on their bead, so that meant they were value regulated, and even as I thought that my brain began to ache, so I stopped thinking about it.

The berthing fee wasn't very expensive, but it was still a lot when one literally had no beads that were accepted as currency, hence all the jumping and climbing yesterday. The fee was mostly so that when the trading ships came—they'd probably already had some as soon as summer started, which reminded me I needed to talk to the local factor of the Golden Sweetwood Company—they wouldn't just occupy the dock indefinitely. After all, no one built such an extensive and sturdy stone dock to deal with a handful of ships a year. When we'd left, trans-oceanic shipbuilding and shipping was a growing industry. One that had a high mortality rate as centuries of strictly riverine experience was finding that their institutional knowledge couldn't be completely applied to the ocean.

Said the man who had gone to sea on a riverboat made of ice.

The still-low tide meant that the dock we were berthing next to was more level with the roof of the cabin then the main deck. While that would change later, we would lose a lot of daylight if we waited that long, and Ravia no doubt had other things to do. So once the ship was secured properly—not just with one mooring rope but several so it wouldn't drift too close or to too far from the dock—the dock's gangplank was secured to the roof of our cabin. The heavy wooden support beams would be strong enough to bear the weight of the traffic, but we'd have to secure the gangplank to the deck later when the water rose again.

The men began bringing up the cargo. Skins and furs were first, passed along in a relay line until they were deposited onto the cart that Ravia had brought along while I paid for the berthing fee. It took most of the beads I'd managed to get yesterday, but that was fine. We would be getting more from our contract with Ravia.

"Sorry I can't give you a tour right now," I said as the men emptied the hold of the skins. "But once the hatch is clear we can go and have a look."

"I look forward to it," Ravia said, looking at the boat with great interest. "How do you propel it? Even for a whisperer, something of this size would be prohibitively difficult."

"Our Dungeon Binder had some ideas, which they keep imbued constantly," I said vaguely. "I'm not a wizard, so I don't really understand, but it works as long as we only do what they told us to."

Ravia blinked. "Your Dungeon Binder is directly imbuing your boat?"

"How do you think we keep it from melting?"

The merchant stared at the boat. "But… how…?"

"They didn't explain," I said, giving him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I really can't tell you anymore. Our Dungeon Binder isn't really the kind who tells me what they're doing, they just do it. Do you know the type?"

Ravia snorted. "I'm familiar with it. Well, I suppose they need to get their amusement somehow."

I nodded. "By the way, do you have an appointment after this? I wanted to talk to you about something that might be of profit for both of us."

"Nothing I can't put off a little, provided I had good reason…" Ravia said.

I took a deep breath. "How would you like to be our partner in being the distributor for a new product that will likely be in high demand?"

"I'd tell you I'd like to, but every few weeks some demesne or other on our trade route discovers how to make a product their sure only they can make, which is invariably reverse engineered within a week of hitting the market," Ravia said with a smile that had the implied undertone of 'that's so cute'. "Unless you have a mine for croco, magan or anatass in your demesne, it's hardly worth the bother."

I blinked, then sighed. "All right, I deserved that." I tilted my head. "What kinds of products?"

"Oh, people have been tapping all the trees, and one found a sap that makes of a decent substitute to sweetwood sap," Ravia said cheerfully.

"What, really? There was none of that in the almanac."

"Oh, they debuted their product when spring broke. Unfortunately, the tree is relatively common in the area. With enough people tapping every tree around, they very quickly narrowed down which it was."

I sighed. "I have to get a description, it would be nice to have something besides honey for sweeter." I shook my head. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd like to ask you to look over our product in any case. Even if someone manages to figure out how to replicate it, here and now, I don't think anyone has. And it's still valuable, sellable product despite that."

"I suppose, though I will be the judge of whether it's valuable, Master Rian."

I nodded. "Of course. Still, I think you'll agree this is will be a good product to sell. Tell you what, if you don't find it impressive, I'll give you a mican."

He gave me a bemused smile. "A mican?"

I shrugged. "Have you had a mican today?"

Ravia laughed. "I suppose I haven't. Very well. And if I am impressed?"

"Then I'd have won, because you'll be giving me a lot of beads to buy and sell my product," I said. "That's far better than a mican."

"No, no, that won't do. I insist on proper terms."

I shrugged. Well, if he insisted… "You recommend a Deadspeaker who's amenable to be recruited to a demesne."

Ravia considered that. "Fine. A simple recommendation it is. You will have to recruit them on their own."

We shook hands in agreement for the little wager.

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The Tour

Once all the furs and skins were moved, the salt came next, which would have been difficult if Ravia hadn't brought a Mentalist with him. Either he remembered the difficulty we'd had last time or he had something heavy to pick up later. The woman needed to have line of sight to the barrels to be able to lift them up, but I'd had a new large hatch added to the deck. That and the mount for the heavy pulley directly over the hatch had been meant for us to lift up the barrels—we'd practiced it back home—but I was glad it wasn't needed.

Thankfully, there was no slipping or accidents. The controls for the bound tool driver had been covered up with blankets and bedrolls, meant to look like we were just being very lazy about how we did things—the exasperated expression on the Mentalist's face when she'd glanced at it meant we had probably succeeded—but it would probably be damaged a lot if the barrel had fallen on it, never mind the ice and planks below it. Ice and wood were not meant to resist a falling barrel full of what was essentially, when you thought about it, powdered rock.

It took far less time to move the salt barrels with the Mentalist's assistance.

"So," I said brightly once the last of the salt barrels had been lifted up from the hold, "I promised you a tour, didn't I? Follow me."

I led Ravia down the ladder into the deck below. "Sorry for the mess," I said, gesturing towards the pile of bedding over the bound tool controls, "but shelves don't really work as well when the ship is always swaying. Everything just falls down. Ideally we'd use chests or boxes, but…" I shrugged, "we needed the space for trade goods."

"I see," Ravia said thoughtfully. "Yes, I vaguely remember from the voyage here when I was younger. Would baskets hanging from the ceiling work?"

I blinked, titling my head thoughtfully. "Huh… you know, it would, though it can't be anything too heavy. And we'll need to put them against the walls and where we won't be walking, or else we'd be smacking our faces on them all the time. Something to remember for when we get home."

"I'm glad to be of assistance," Ravia said cheerfully. He had a very good 'cheerful'. It felt natural and not forced at all.

"Well, anyway, there we are," I said, waving at the space below the top deck. "If anyone tries building ice boats again, perhaps you can advise them on how to do it properly. As you can see here—" I indicated at the gap between two wall planks that was filled in with perfectly clear ice, "—sorry, you have to bend down a little… we have beams of wood running though the ice of the hull for reinforcement, giving the hull structural strength that."

"Ah, yes, I see what you mean," Ravia said, bending down as I had indicated. The sun was out now, meaning there was enough light outside that the inside of the ship was lit up from what was passing though the clear ice's gaps.

"Ideally, you'd mix sawdust into the ice for more reinforcement, but we couldn't do that because we needed the sawdust for other things," I exposited. "Here though, there's so many carpentry workshops that someone would be able to just ask for sawdust for their boat, at least until the carpenters catch on. And probably not even then. The downside is that it would be a lot darker in here, since the ice wouldn't be so clear."

"I admit, when I head of a boat made of ice, I expected the inside to be cold," Ravia said. "It's actually very warm in here."

I nodded. "Yes, people keep thinking that. The ice is held together by a binding that keeps it solid, and as a result it doesn't take in heat. So the ice actually helps maintain the temperature. If you want to keep something hot or cold for a long period of time, putting them in a box of bound ice is a good idea, as long as the ice stays bound."

"I'll have to remember that," Ravia said. "And these are?"

He indicated our cargo boxes, still sheathed by a layer of darkwisps.

"Ah, that's something our Dungeon Binder came up with to try and keep Iridescence from damaging our goods without glass. Did you know that Iridescence doesn't grow in, on or through ice?"

Ravia blinked. "It doesn't?"

I shook my head. "I mean, it makes sense. Ice is basically solid water, after all. But we can't exactly use a box of ice." I paused. "Well, we can, but it'll be a bit fragile. However, darkwisps also keep out Iridescence, it's just not used for the purpose because the enshrouding has to be total, and you can't see through it, so using it to protect yourself from Iridescence is impractical, especially for someone who's not a Dungeon Binder."

Ravia nodded. "I take it then that your Dungeon Binder found a way to combine these two aspects somehow?"

I nodded. "You can't see because of the darkwisps but there are wooden boxes in there. The darkwisps keeps the Iridescence out, and our Dungeon Binder keeps it imbued from our demesne. To prevent Iridescence from coming up from underneath, it's raised up on blocks of ice."

"Which doesn't allow the colors to grow or pass through it," Ravia said, nodding again in understanding. "It sounds simple when put that way."

"It's not perfect," I said. "Once we're out of a demesne, we can't put anything in the box or take it out, or else Iridescence would get in with our arms. So in practical terms, it's in essence a sealed glass box."

"A glass box that can be any size, and made with materials far cheaper than the cost of glass," Ravia pointed out.

"That's true," I agreed, "but I'm not sure how well it would work when mounted on a wagon. Most methods of locking the boxes in place would allow a way for the colors to get through the protection of the darkwisps. Speaking of which, do you know who's publishing the almanac? My Dungeon Binder gave me permission to send the idea to them for submission."

"They explain the submission procedures at the back of the almanac, I believe."

"Unfortunately, my Dungeon Binder never lets me read it. Which is fair, because if I had a book to read I'd never get anything done, but still…" I shook my head. "Anyway, here are our beds. They fold up against the walls so we have space to eat and other things during the day. It's something we use back at home since houses are still pretty small."

"Ah, yes. I've encountered the same in some of the demesne I've traded at, although it's not often down here. Many walls are too weak to hold the weight."

"That's… unfortunate." It really was. "Well, that's everything."

"What about that door there?" Ravia said, nodding to the closed door at the front of the ship.

"I'm afraid its contents are private," I said. "Sorry. But it's really just a small room."

Ravia glanced towards it. "A pity. I was hoping to see how your boat moved as it did."

"Whispering," I said. "Although I'd afraid I can't share how it works. Not a wizard. Sorry. However, speaking of negotiation… "

"Ah, yes, your mysterious product of which you are offering me the chance to be the exclusive distributor," Ravia said, looking amused. "You know, a man in my position might be inclined to be resentful at being denied."

"Would a mican make you feel better?" I said, reaching into the mican jar—bigger than a sack, smaller than a barrel—and pulling one out to offer it to him.

Ravia smiled, but took the fruit. "Oh? Are you conceding our wager already?"

"Not at all. But I figured you'd enjoy a mican," I said, sitting down at one of the folding beds that doubled as benches and gestured for him to sit opposite me.

"Well, you're not wrong…" Ravia said, but put the mican in his belt pouch. "I hope you don't mind if I save it for later." He sat down.

"It's your mican," I said, reaching into my belt pouch and feeling around for a bead with no markings. "Anyway, I'd like you to take a look at this."

Ravia held out his hand, and I placed the wispbead on it. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, his smile widening slightly before he blinked and actually looked at the bead, rolling it around in his hand. I sat back, waiting for him to speak first.

Eventually, he said, "This bead is far too big," he said slowly, finally looking up from the bead to meet my gaze.

"Is it?" I said, keeping a polite, 'I'm listening' expression on my face.

"The only way to smooth a bead like this is to use it to imbue a bound tool or for a Whisperer to swallow and either regurgitate or pass it."

I twitched. "I did not need that latter part pointed out!"

Ravia chuckled. "It's not as if beads can be digested. But as I was saying, this bead is perfectly smooth but it's too big."

"Oh? Do tell," I said, my expression going back to 'listening politely'.

The merchant's gaze narrowed slightly. "All demesne issue beads that are two and a half yustri in diameter, but that's at their widest points, which includes the denomination imprints on it. For a bead to become smooth would reduce it to less than that."

"Fascinating."

Ravia rolled the bead around in his hand again. "Even if this is real, it wouldn't be considered legal tender. It's very unlikely that another demesne would accept it, and Covehold Demesne has made their position on what beads maybe be used as currency clear."

"Legal tender? Why would you even think of such a thing?" I said brightly. "Didn't I say this was a product that would be in high demand? I know that the workshops I visited yesterday were ecstatic that they could use their bound tools again."

The bead stopped rolling around in his hand. "That is presuming these are, in fact, wispbeads and not simply glass."

I shrugged. "I'm sure you have Whisperers in your employ. You can have them swallow one and let them try to use it for Whispering, but it would be simpler it you let them anchor a binding, touch metal to it, and touch the bead to the metal to imbue the binding. Less regurgitating and passing would be involved. Besides, why would I waste glass on something like this? Glass is expensive. If we had glass, we’d sell it market value."

Ravia made a gesture that was part shrug and part nod, acknowledging the point. “I will need to have this checked back at the house,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” I said cheerfully. “We can get our salt and skins assessed while we’re at it.”

“Wha—Oh! Yes, yes, we can.” Ravia shook his head, still staring at the bead in his hands.

“Could you give that back, by the way?” I said, holding out my hand. “I wouldn’t want that misplaced.”

It was with clear reluctance that Ravia gave me back the wispbead, actually staring as I slipped it back into my pouch.

“That’s rude, you know,” I said as I made sure my belt pouch had been properly shut.

Ravia flinched, a chagrinned look on his face. “Sorry. I have no excuse.”

“It’s fine,” I said, waving a hand as if to wipe the whole thing away. Then I grinned. “So… should I take it to mean you’re impressed?”

The merchant blinked, then chuckled. “Even if it is fake… the audacity is certainly impressive,” he said.

“No, none of that! No conditional victories. I won’t settle for it. You’re either impressed or I owe you a mican.”

“Then… let us see what Endlew thinks back at the house.”

I nodded. That was presumably one of their Whisperers. “I can wait that long. And to show I’m a good sport about it, I’ll even bring the mican along.”

Ravia laughed.

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Ravia’s Party Trick

We had a long walk following the carts through the streets later, where I found a muchshorter and more direct way to get to Emborin and Sons than the one I’d taken yesterday. I talked to Ravia as we went, asking him his opinions on the local bars, eateries, bakeries, doctors, Deadspeakers, and anything else to fill the time as Multaw and Cyuw once again followed behind me.

"They have doughstrands?" I said intently as we passed on in particular that seemed both strangely empty and yet strangely wealthy, with a low stone façade, well-made wooden walls, and even a colorful painted sign.

"Yes. It's not cheap, but as you can see they get enough business to be doing very well," Ravia said, looking amused at my reaction. "Other places have tried serving it as well, but everyone agrees Engario's is the best in the demesne. They've done very well with using what ingredients are available in their dishes."

I solemnly swore that I would eat there before we left.

After a lot of walking that made my feet ache, we were back at the merchant house.

They offered to let us wait at the bargaining tables—and even brought out some warm buns of bread and water for freshements—but despite the men’s hungry glances, I had to demure, and instead asked if I could watch as they inventoried the skins and weighed the salt. Thankfully, Ravia didn’t look insulted by the insinuation. I suppose I wasn’t the only one who liked to keep their eyes on their goods until the payment came in.

I thought that the Mentalist was going to lift the canvas that the salt was on to move it, and was slightly disappointed when workers instead just shoveled all the salt into the merchant house’s own barrels. Thankfully, a cursory examination showed that the barrels were, if not exactly, at least very close to the volume of the ones we’d used, so shortly after arriving the salt was once more packed into five wooden barrels.

“Each barrel is measured so we know how much it weighs when empty,” Ravia explained as we followed the barrels, which were not being pushed on wheelbarrows specially shaped for the purpose. “When we weigh them on the scale, we know how much to subtract to get the correct weight.”

“Clever,” I said as I watched one of the barrel moved onto the short arm of a large scale. Once it was in place, weights were moved along the long arm until the arm the barrel rested on rose and the scales became level. I left unspoken that the thing could be rigged with short weights. That would have been rude. Besides, I came to Emborin and Sons because they had a reputation of being scrupulously fair. While they could, of course, just be very good liars… well, I wasn’t Lori. Reasonable precautions aside, I trusted people until there was reason not to, and they usually repaid my trust—especially when they saw I wasn’t so trusting that I hadn’t taken precautions.

Living any other way was just too sad for me.

The salt came down to 725 sengrains, 726 if rounded up, which Ravia was willing to do since it was in bulk. Since salt was selling for 14.71 bead-tani per sengrain, and factoring in how much we were getting for the skins and furs which was at 15.25 bead-tani per sengrain…

Well, it was a lot of beads.

It also showed me that I had perhaps priced the wispbead I'd sold yesterday just right, perhaps even undersold them a little.

I glanced over the receipt appended to the contract that Ravia had passed me, looking over each item, and comparing it to the other copy. I nodded, signing my name at the bottom of both and keeping one copy for myself. "Thank you, Ravia. Once more, it's been wonderful dealing with Emborin and Sons. I'm surprised you're not bigger."

"We've been wanting to expand, but finding a location for a new house has been difficult," Ravia said. "There are considerations we need assurance on."

"Like proper dragon shelters?" I said knowingly.

"Among other things, but yes, that is a primary consideration. Even the oldest surviving demesne outside of Covehold don't really have the resources to protect more than their population in the event of a dragon. Until that changes, we are limited to this location."

"Well, I hope things get better for you soon," I said, thinking of the measures that Lori had taken for River's Fork's dragon shelter. "Now, about our wager…" I held up a mican. This time we had a small sack of the things with us. We probably didn't need it for lunch, but it was delicious, so why not?

Ravia nodded. "If you'll follow me upstairs? I believe a private room would be more suited for this discussion."

"Lead on then," I said, getting to my feet and gesturing Multaw and Cyuw to follow me.

The merchant said nothing about their presence as we followed him towards the stairs, where he paused a moment to speak to the guard there before gesturing for me and the men to follow him. The guard eyed us as we went up, but it was a professional eyeing so he'd remember who we were. I gave him a smile and a nod, and he nodded back perfunctorily.

The floor upstairs was a large, open room full of table serving as desks. Various men and women were working with papers, pens, styluses and other implements, probably doing accounting and inventory things. On three of the desks, the people were just grabbing sheets from one pile, quickly looking over it, then putting the paper into another pile, occasionally taking a break to write something every dozen sheets or so. Mentalists most likely, putting their memory to use as computers for the merchant house, as opposed to working as couriers or lifters. People glanced up as we passed, but apparently it wasn't too unusual to have people up here, because they quickly went back to work after the brief interruption of the mundanity of their day.

From the dimensions I could see, this was only a third of the second floor. On opposite ends of the room were doors, and we headed towards one. There was no guard on it, and from how Ravia just opened it the door wasn't locked either. Beyond it was a hallway lined with doors, with another door at the end. There were guards here, two at the end of the hallway on either side of the door there and, as I realized when I looked to either side, two on either side of the door we'd come in through. Ravia nodded at them, then led us towards the nearest door to the right.

Inside was a room with a table that was larger and was more decorated than the one downstairs. The chairs around it were heavier and had a seat cushion this time, which was quite frankly seemed almost indulgent now after months of sitting on benches and stools.

Huh, would Lori like a cushion for her chair? She probably would, but the question was getting the chair away from her long enough to put a cushion on it…

We'd barely sat down on opposite sides of the table when the door opened again, and an older man walked in. He had the kind of darkened, dry looking skin that came with working out in the sun a lot, and his green hair was sun-bleached pale. The clothes he wore were sweaty, but no more than mine was. "You called me, Ravia?" he said, and I blinked at his surprisingly high-pitched voice. Huh. I had honestly expected some variation of gruff, but he sounded like a young singer I'd listened to once.

"Ah, Wiz Endlew," Ravia said warmly. "Come in, please. I need you to verify something for me. Hopefully, it will be quick one way or the other. My friend here has a bead that I need you to confirm is real."

"Ah, that's why you said I needed to bring wire," Endlew said, glancing towards me. "Well, I suppose I could use a new bead, but I'm not paying that it used to be worth."

"We can discuss that later, Endlew," Ravia said. "Rian, the bead please?"

I reach into my belt pouch and pop it open, pulling out my handkerchief—yes, I've never really gotten into the habit of using those—and laying it out on the table. Then I dug inside the pouch again to grab a handful of beads. "Here you go," I said, putting the beads on the handkerchief, which managed to keep them from rolling. "Test whichever you—oh, wait, not that one." I grabbed the last large small-mid bead—it was a thinkbead—and put it back in my pouch. "Sorry, grabbed too many."

Endlew narrowed his eyes at the large wispbeads on the handkerchief, their lack of denomination markings clearly visible. he glanced at Ravia, who nodded.

From his pocket, Endlew drew not a wire but slim metal rod—it looked like brass—somewhere between thirty and forty yustri long. Taking one of the beads at seemingly random with another glance at me, a light began to glow on one of his fingers. He pressed one end of the rod to the light, and touched the other end of the rod to the bead.

After a short wait, he grunted. "It's real," he said, sounding surprised. He raised the wispbead up to his face, rough fingers rolling the bead over as he stared at it.

"Could you test the others as well?" Ravia said, gesturing at the other beads on the handkerchief.

One by one, the beads were tested. I already knew what they would find, so I simply sat patiently and waited for them to finish. Ravia, for his part, became more and more expressionless with each confirmation. When the last bead had been confirmed, he let out a deep sigh. "Thank you Endlew," he said as he turned back to me. "Could you please inform father about your findings while I continue speaking to Master Rian here? I believe he'd want to hear this from you directly."

Endlew nodded as he reluctantly put down the last bead. Giving me one last look—I gave him a bright smile and a little wave—he left the room with noticeably more urgency in his step.

"While I understand this might be something the head of the house would want to get involved with, I was hoping to continue dealing with you," I told Ravia once the door had closed. "You're easy to talk to."

"Why, thank you. It's nice to be appreciated," Ravia said. "Well, it seems I owe you a recommendation of a Deadspeaker. If you can give me some specifics about what you're looking for, I'll see about who I can find. "

"I'd say to take your time… but we intend to leave in five days, so… "

"Ah. I shall hurry, then." Ravia took a deep breath. "Your Dungeon Binder has really found how to make beads?"

"They're there, aren't they?" I said.

"Yes… I suppose they are…" Ravia mused. "Well. I won't insult you by asking how these are made. If your Dungeon Binder was willing to part with that information, you would be offering that instead."

"The idea of having the monopoly of supplying wispbeads to all the owners of bound tools in the continent did appeal to them, yes," I said. "In time, they expect people to figure out how it's done. But until they do…" I shrugged. "Well, the owners of bound tools can either wait for new double-small beads that are wispbeads to come in on the coming boats and burn through them as they have before… or they can use these." I gestured to the beads on the table. "Uh, could you help me put them back on the handkerchief? I don't want to roll off."

Ravia obliged, and we both put beads back on the cloth. "How much are you asking for them?"

"Ten bead-tani per wispbead," I said. A small mid-large bead for two had been the most I'd been able to negotiate for the beads yesterday, but he didn't know that. Besides, I fully expected to be negotiated down a little.

"Per bead? Surely per sengrain of beads is a more reasonable measure."

"You're assuming we know how many beads it takes to make a sengrain," I said. I'd probably have to find that out for future reference. "Per bead because we know exactly how many beads there are when we conducted our inventory, and this is enough of a high-value product to justify putting a Mentalist on duty to count it. You'd need to do that anyway to verify how much you have available.” Still, I relented a little. “Look, how about this. If you can tell me how much the average large wispbead weighs—”

“Twenty-one grains at most, though depending on denomination marks it might be closer to twenty grains.”

I blinked. “You just know that off the top of your head?”

Ravia shrugged in that way one does when you finally get to show off a party trick that really isn’t all that impressive.

I chuckle “All right. Assuming twenty-one grains is in fact what a large bead weighs—” I’ll have to check to be sure, “—give me a moment…”

“Forty-eight beads rounded up,” Ravia said innocently.

I gave him a flat look and made a show of stubbornly calculating it myself first, then nodded. “Let’s be generous and call it forty-seven and a half, so you’d want two sengrains to get whole numbers of beads. That’s 475 bead-tani per sengrain, provided a wispbead does weigh that much.”

“You’re welcome to borrow our scales to check, Rian,” Ravia offered.

“Why, thank you,” I said. There were so many possible layers of deception that even if the scales in question were completely accurate a cheat might still happen down the line, but…

Well, it’s a terrible way to live, thinking like that. Besides, without denomination markings, our beads would no doubt be heavier than the ones used for legal tender. However, more importantly, if Ravia and his family’s trading house were going to be our distributors in this, then they needed to make their own profits too.

I was never going to get ten bead-tani a wispbead anyway. Both Ravia and I knew that. It was just a nice number to work down from.

The door opened.