Serial
12: Trader’s secret
November
6th, 32 S.D. 10:39 Anchta, Upper Vestel
Brigitte Kölman thought that she had rather artfully pulled her team out of yet another bind. For the journey from Gelda to Sevetslana, everything had gone well enough. They’d picked up their specified order from a heavy lead manufacturer on time, which was difficult given the extremely customized dies and molds that had to be used. The problem had occurred somewhere on their route back to the Lower Vestel region. The horses they’d been using to pull their loaded wagon were burdened by all the metal on-board. She’d figured that the order she was carrying on this trip shouldn’t have been too taxing on the animals, but the case proved otherwise. The poor things - only two of them - were straining to fulfill their task. At that rate, they’d work themselves to injury or death while taking almost twice as long to get to their destination. Fortunately, she’d found and bought two more horses from a farmer in Anchta, doubling their muscle and mobility. As a precaution, however, Brigitte let the first two rest a full day before she, Stephen, and Barv moved out.
Though she was just shy of 28, Brigitte had already achieved quite the ranking in the Haus Trading Enterprise. To her knowledge, no one as young as she had been allowed to head a sales transport this far west of Gandia or the company headquarters for that matter. What’s more, very few people were privileged enough to supply the very first of Haus’ newest products. From what she knew of those above her in the company, they all seemed very enthused for the item’s potential. The wind she’s caught from them suggested it was going to be an extremely profitable venture, one they’d tasked her to oversee, and one that would surely lead to many more. Brigitte, for her part, greatly thrilled herself with the challenge. She’d always been of that mindset, the type of person who looked forward to overcoming adversity. One problem had already been dealt with soundly. What else was to come she knew not, but she felt more than prepared.
They were making their final preparations that morning before departure. Brigitte stepped out of the wagon, throwing on a long tan coat and fitting herself with a similarly colored cowgirl’s hat. The boots and ponytail completed her somewhat romanticized rancher look, something her coworkers back at HQ poked fun at from time to time. The truth was she’d grown up mostly in Zevano, the dry, dusty reaches west of the Central Plains, not in her “homeland” of Gandia. The very western parts of Zevano that edged closer to the Iron Wall mountain range were pure, unadulterated badlands, but the eastern fringes were flat prairies perfect for livestock. To say the least, she was not unfamiliar with horse-powered travel, something that all the more qualified her for a job far outside the scope of railways, as this one in particular was.
Stephen stood in front of their team of horses, ensuring they were properly harnessed, at least as best as he reckoned. He had no working knowledge of these animals, but he was willing to try and adapt. Brigitte walked over to him slowly, casually.
“We all set to go, Steve?”
“Almost,” he said, strapping up the rear two horses.
“Not like that we ain’t, hon,” she said, pointing to their undersides. Several loose reins dangled about unsecured.
“What?” Stephen asked, incredulous at himself. “How did I miss those?” He reached below to grab them, but Brigitte halted him.
“Woah there, friend. You fittin’ to rile up the fella? Can’t touch the old boy like that. I’ll show you, jus’ this once now.” As she showed him the proper way to get the horses ready, Barv called out from the front of the wagon.
“Hey, boss,” he said, shuffling over, peaking his head over the driver’s seat. “Looks like we got somebody coming over.”
“Someone like who?”
“Someones actually. Some kids.”
“Kids?” She finished getting the last horse ready in an instant, faster than Stephen could really observe. “Now what’re y’all makin’ such a fuss over some kids for?” Brigitte asked, looking up at Barv.
“You should see for yourself, they’re coming up behind us.”
Brigitte cocked an eyebrow as she came around the wagon and looked back at Anchta. They were situated some distance from the town, so anyone coming this way did so with a purpose.
“What do you think they want?” Barv asked, ambling through the wagon to the other side.
“Hell if I know, Barv. They might as well be customers if I could reckon. We are part of a tradin’ company you know.” She rapped the wagon’s cover with her knuckles; the fabric was emblazoned with the Haus Trading Enterprise’s logo.
“But we aren’t selling any wares yet,” Stephen said.
“They could be the first to buy’em then.”
“I don’t think those kids are interested in our current inventory, Brig...”
“See, that’s why y’all are followin’ my lead on this here trip,” she said, smiling with folded arms as she leaned against the wagon. “Y’all don’t see every encounter as a business opportunity. You never know when you’ll meet the next big sale or who’s gonna be buyin’.”
Losha, Mesel, and Denze soon approached the wagon, at which point Brigitte began walking to meet them.
“Mornin’ to you folks,” she grinned, tipping her hat up. “What can I do for you today?”
“We were wondering if you would be willing to part with two of your horses,” Losha said. “Not without due compensation of course.”
Brigitte shook her head and chuckled for a bit. “Sorry hon, no can do. We jus’ got two of’em ourselves ‘cause we was hurtin’ something awful for more. Ain’t got two to spare. Nein.”
“Nine?” Losha asked confusedly.
“Nein means ‘no’ sugah.”
“I see,” Losha said. “You must be the ones Mr. Ankhail spoke of, the ones who bought his horses. Those were the last two he was willing to sell from his farm, and unfortunately for us, he could not be persuaded otherwise. However, we never made him an offer such as this.” She set her pack down on the grass and spent a few seconds sifting through its contents. A moment later she came out, a golden coin in hand. Though Losha knew not what country it was from, it was well preserved and clearly dated some 100 years ago. It too was part of the school’s massive funds, perhaps a token Master Eltin had once received from King himself so many years ago. Neither man, however, was there to contest her giving it away.
“My stars, child. Where’d you ever get somethin’ like that?”
“We came into some money recently, an inheritance one might say.”
Brigitte frowned and scratched the side of her head.
“Sho’ is a mighty fine lot to pay for a couple of animals. Even so miss, we’ll be needin’ all the strength we can muster for our trade route. She’s got a heavy load on them there wheels. Can’t afford to go without all four...”
Losha was actually holding two coins together, one behind the other, but with a slight sliding of her index finger, and thumb, the second was revealed.
“Land sakes, girl!” Brigitte exclaimed. She bit the bottom of her lip and looked back at the wagon, Stephen and Barv. “I suppose... we could do without one.”
“That will do us no good,” Losha shook her head. “We need at least two.”
“Sorry to say miss, but we need at least three ourselves.”
“And you are certain there is no amount we can pay you? I am willing to offer at least six more coins.”
“Six more... ?” Brigitte sucked in some air, shoved her hands into her pockets, spun around, and paced a bit. Six more coins like that? She wasn’t a jeweler, but if she hazarded a guess, those coins alone could have bought their current stock of merchandise twice over. They could have sold the horses, dumped their load on anyone for any price, and still get bonuses back at HQ for the money. This little kid essentially dangled half a year’s pay for all three of them in her face. But could she really accept?
The profit to the company on this one trip may have been exceptional, but what about her career? It wasn’t just about pushing stock; it was about establishing the Haus Trading Company’s latest item. If she didn’t set off sales for the new product in a timely fashion, she’d forfeit any advancement up the ranks for quite a while. That surely outweighed any bonus for this year. But, what if she could find another transport solution with the money she got from selling the horses? That was certainly a possibility, true, but could the three of them accept the risks if it didn’t pan out? Brigitte sighed and turned around.
“‘Fraid I still can’t do so miss. Much as I love a quick buck, we got a lot of money riding on this here shipment of ours. Plus, we got folks depending on it.”
“I see,” Losha said, pocketing the two coins. “I do not expect anyone to forsake their livelihood for our luxury. We will have to find some other means then. Thank you for at least considering our request.”
Losha, Mesel, and Denze turned away to head back into town. Brigitte faced the wagon as they left.
“Damn!” she swore up at the sky but beneath her breath. Had she just let something go that she shouldn’t have? Though the trio was scarcely out of earshot, Denze already set about complaining.
“Other means, huh? That Ankhail guy was the only one here with horses to spare. ‘Other means’ means walking all the way to the Central Plains at this rate.”
However, hearing those last few words was all Brigitte needed to pick up.
“Hold on there y’all!” she hollered at them, turning back.
“Now imagine what kinda fortune that is right there,” Brigitte said, the reins of all four horses in her hands. They were on the move, plodding along the road at a moderate speed. She looked over her shoulder to see the three kids sitting together on one side of the wagon.
“We’re all headin’ for the same place more or less. Central Plains and all,” she smiled. In fact, it all seemed unbelievably fortunate for Brigitte, almost surreal, providential, or preordained even. True, they were all going to the Central Plains, but there was more to it than just that. These kids, at least the girl and the one-eyed boy, were Asten as far as she could tell. Their appearance and accents matched, for what that was worth. Neither she, Stephen, nor Barv spoke a word of Asten, a sore reality that had clouded their business trip ever since they’d left. But here they now had a couple of native speakers tagging along, and they were paying to do so. She couldn’t ask them to play a constant role of translator all the time, but they were bound to be useful at some point.
Furthermore, the kids were sure to have connections, and for Astens that always meant clans. For her and her team, that represented a potentially major customer base. It didn’t matter which clan they sold to; they’d make a huge turnover with any. What’s more, near everyone in the Central Plains was in need of what she was selling, even if something of her product’s nature had really never been marketed in that region of the Continent or anywhere else. That was just the reality of the Asten people and the way they lived, at least Brigitte told herself that much.
As the afternoon wore on, they stopped briefly to eat lunch. Barv brought out their cooking pot and began to set up a small fire. He always saw to their meals; it was just something he’d done ever since their team had assembled. No one ever asked him to do it, but Brigitte sure appreciated the work. Stephen tended to the horses and their feed. Brigitte walked over to make sure he was getting along with the creatures, which was frequently not the case. Before she could say anything to him, he came out with a question as she approached.
“You sure about this, Brig? We sell supplies and stock, but we’re not a taxi service.” He looked at her sideways as he stooped over a bucket he’d just filled with oats.
“What’s not to like about it? They all need a ride, they’ve paid for it, and we’re all goin’ thattaway anyway. Three antique Morian gold coin seems a mighty fine price for somethin’ that doesn’t inconvenience us none.” Brigitte shifted her weight and stood there with both hands on her hips. “Unless you think we coulda gotten six,” she grinned.
“It’s not that,” Stephen said, standing up and wrapping the special feeding bucket around a horse’s snout. “What if something happens to them? They’re our liability now. That’s outside the scope of our sales assignment.”
“And steppin’ outside that scope put some swell and dandy cash in our pockets. And we ain’t even sold nothin’ yet. They also paid for the additional food, water, and such so they could come along. That’s free money Steve. Tell me, what’s there to worry about?” She folded her arms after she tipped her hat up. Stephen wiped his hands together and looked at her.
“Plenty to be sure,” he replied.
“C’mon Steve. Sure they’re dressed weird, but maybe it’s their religion or somethin’. It don’t make’em criminals. Barv’s a better judge of person than anyone this side of the Fault. He’ll let us know if there’s anythin’ wrong with’em.”
Stephen merely shook his head. “It’s not an issue of trust, Brig.”
“Then what’s this about? C’mon now hon; I’m in charge here and that makes me responsible. For everythin’. If either of y’all feel somethin’ don’t sit right, jus’ say so. Ain’t the type that can’t listen to a fella.”
“I know that,” Stephen said. “But do you have any idea what we could be getting ourselves into?”
Brigitte cocked her head at him, sharply raising an eyebrow. “Mind explainin’?”
“Think about it for a moment. The Central Plains are notorious for their inter-clan fighting. It goes from simple disagreements, blood feuds, to all out war in some cases. Usually though, it’s more than just not liking a certain family and a lot more violent than a scuffle or two. They’re very territorial and exclusive to other clans.”
“Still not followin’ hon. Speed it up.”
“Each clan has a complex history with the others. Some are allies, most are foes, others are on neutral terms. The thing is, few people, outsiders especially, know where all of these allegiances line up. It’s baffled anthropologists and historians for ages. Associating with the wrong clan in another clan’s territory is bad business.”
Brigitte frowned. “So you’re sayin’ we oughta be real careful and such about who sees us with a bunch of kids? Hush it!”
“I’m serious,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “It could be real trouble if we’re in Ooga-booga land harboring their worst enemies, the Mumba-jumba.”
“Tch. Ain’t never heard of nobody fittin’ to harm anyone else over a couple of youngins. I ain’t gonna underestimate what could happen, but those are tales everybody hears. Hyperbole and horse-s**t, hand-in-hand.” She picked up a feeding bucket and filled one up herself. “The way I figure it, we mind our own selves all quiet-like, mosey on through, jus’ passin’ by, no one’ll give a hoot to us, ‘cept when our shipments here start sellin’ hot.”
“If we’re not cautious, it could also affect sales. Even if we don’t get jumped, imagine if people wouldn’t buy anything from us simply because we had Bunga-bunga clan kids on-board.”
She looked up at him, eying him. “Steve, don’t you know any of the names of these clans in the Central Plains?”
“Nope,” he answered honestly. Brigitte sighed and stood up, the bucket towed in her free hand as she pointed squarely at Stephen.
“Well hon, you’re about to learn. This is what we’re gonna do. It’s easy. All that girl and her friends wanna do is go home. Obviously she’s part of a clan. We keep low, keep’em out of sight most of the time, then we start sellin’ to her clan when we get to wherever it is they live. Who’s gonna worry about associatin’ and affiliatin’ when we make it to her people? We sell as much as we can there, stop off at the Eastern Corridor, then we can go back to HQ lickity-split before the rest of the clans are any wiser to who we were, who we were with, and what we sold off. Once we’re lighter, four horses will make a formidable getaway mind you.”
“Let’s just try not to get caught up with them or their affairs. It could turn out pretty bad for the both of us.”
She handed him the bucket as she left. “Don’t worry none; I’ll keep it strictly business,” she said. She tossed her head back quickly before finally heading out. “Jus’ like you and me,” she winked.
Later that night, all six of them sat around the dwindling fire; as their recent meals settled in, they were left in a somewhat awkward position. A long silence persisted. During the drawn-out, monotonous stretches of road, it would have been acceptable if no one said a word at all, especially with the din of four full-grown horses plodding along the ground. Now as the day had passed and the night was calm, it seemed strange or at least unfriendly to not exchange a few words.
The kids had kept to themselves mostly, speaking briefly, lowly in Asten, but they’d barely engaged in any conversation. Barv never talked much to anyone that Brigitte knew of, and Steve didn’t handle non-work related topics quite as well as a normal man should have. As it came out, she happened to be the de facto icebreaker for the situation.
“So,” she began, tipping back a drink, then continuing. “Where’re y’all from?”
“We... have lived up north for a good many years.” Losha said in measured words. “In the Upper Vestel region, primarily around Oskarya.”
“Ahs-kar-eeya? Never heard of the place. Musta been awfully far up north.”
“Around Mount Anhel,” Denze explained.
“Figures. That there’s woodlands and whatnot. Small town, I guess?”
“Yes, nothing too grand,” Losha picked up.
“Pardon my askin’, but what drove a couple of Asten kids like yourselves that far up the Continent?”
“We were receiving private education from a very notable, albeit secluded scholar.” Losha’s statements were not lies, nor did they bear any intent to deceive. It was, however, her judgment not to reveal the art they had studied, at least the circumstances were not ideal. Brigitte leaned back, flicked her hat back and whistled.
“School huh? Y’all the intellectual types then? Wish I coulda stayed in school longer myself. You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, but I do love to read. Ain’t much to read out west in Zevano though, where I grew up. Might not know a whole lotta things, but I try and use these here ranch skills of mine on this sales trip. Aside from sellin’ things, that’s pretty much all I know.”
“Come now, you’re being modest,” Stephen said. “You’re really the only one capable of working with the horses. Barv and I can’t drive them. We’d be nowhere pretty quick and there wouldn’t really be a sales trip to make.”
“Speaking of going places, what brings you traders all the way out to the Central Plains? Haus Trading Enterprise was it? Never heard of them back home,” Denze said.
“Well, we ain’t expanded there yet. We mostly keep to Felbany in Gandia,” Brigitte nodded. “Hopefully that’ll change if we’re lucky on this here trip.”
“What exactly do you sell?” Losha asked. The entire while on that day’s journey, Losha, Mesel, Denze, and Barv too all sat in the wagon, crowded by heavy, steel boxes about a meter long. There were a total of four; two flanked each wall of the wagon’s floorspace. An imposing padlock sealed each away, obscuring their contents. Aside from the traders’ travel supplies combined with their own, neither she nor Denze had noted anything that looked sellable.
“Can’t tell you hon, but if you’re goin’ as far as we are, you’ll get to see it soon enough. Reckon it’s gonna sell like fire.” Brigitte leaned forward for a moment. “Which reminds me, just how ‘far’ is far with y’all?”
“Come again?” Losha asked. While her Gandian was near perfect, she wasn’t entirely accustomed to some accents or the seemingly cryptic phrasings native speakers could come up with.
“The Central Plains ain’t somebody’s backyard, sugah. It’s a whole region. Y’all said you’re headin’ there but didn’t say a peep ‘bout where. We gotta know such if y’all want to share a ride. Besides, if our destinations are in two different places, we gotta figure out when’s it best to split.” It was a fair enough question, though the only reason she’d brought it up was to give herself a target. They could have sold their stock to any clan, but going for Losha’s was so much easier.
“Oh yes, of course. We’re going to Sevia, the chief residence of the Sventa clan.”
“That where you got all your family and folks?”
“Well, we are spread all around the very interior of the Central Plains, more or less.”
“We’re going to the Eastern Corridor. That’s a major tradin’ hub for all of us foreign merchants and whatnot. Though I reckon we could well stop in this here Sevia of yours for a while. That is, if your folks are partial to strangers and our like.”
Losha shook her head. “Worry not. Though we do have contentious relationships with other clans, we have no reason to prejudice ourselves against people uninvolved with Asten matters. I can guarantee that you will be well received by my people.”
“That sounds mighty welcomin’, Losha. Can’t tell you how much we appreciate that,” Brigitte smiled. She cast a glance at Stephen. It still looked like he had his reservations but in her mind the case was done and settled. Everything was setup just right. They’d make a killing on this trip.
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