Free Trader Complete Omnibus

by Craig Martelle

  Maybe even poor and quite possibly dead. But he would be the envy of the other traders. No one traded solely in Old Tech. There are people who spent their entire lives trading and never handled a piece of Old Tech.

  It had to be out there. Time to dig out the maps and recall the campfire tales.

  He knew that Hillcats passed knowledge down the generations. Braden wondered if G-War knew anything. Then, what would it take for G-War to share what he knew?

  4 – A New Goal

  Braden laid two maps on his desk. They were the only maps he owned, but they weren’t the best resource he had for the geography of Warren Deep. He had his rudder, handed down to him by his parents. A rudder was how sailors documented their navigation of the seas. They protected the rudder more than the treasures they carried, for the rudder was the navigator’s key to his existence.

  And Braden had one for the trade routes. It was rough-pressed thick paper, the best that could be had in Warren Deep, and he meticulously kept it up to date. He made the latest entry regarding Binghamton in small script, as a side note to the page dedicated to this area. He added a couple lines to his family’s sum knowledge of the town of Binghamton.

  If they followed the current trail, he would end up at the main road between Binghamton and Cameron. He could then continue east to Cameron. From there, he had three choices. His finger traced the routes on the hand-drawn map. Which route would take him closest to an area that was open, yet unknown?

  G-War smoothly jumped to the desk from the floor of the wagon. He looked at the map, appearing to study it, then sat down in the middle of it. He immediately curled his paw toward his face, exposing his claws, where he started to nibble and pull on them. Every now and then, the claws needed to have old growth removed, leaving only the sharpest and smoothest points.

  “Really? You need to do that right here?” These weren’t questions. They rarely were. The ‘cat did as he pleased, much of it seemed calculated to make the most mischief for Braden.

  Braden poked the ‘cat in the side, pulling his hand away quickly. Then he pointed his finger and slowly moved toward G-War’s side again. The ‘cat fixed his unblinking glare on the finger, raising his paw, claws out, ready to strike. Braden wisely stopped.

  “You wouldn’t?” Again, not a question. Braden had razor thin scars on both arms and legs from where he was on the losing end of play-fighting with the ‘cat. He was told that he had rather nasty scars down his back. He told people this was from a mutie that jumped him, but didn’t live to brag about it.

  That wasn’t true. It was from a play-fight where G-War ended up in a tree and pounced on him. Braden had turned just enough to keep the cat from landing on his face, and the ‘cat scored his claws down Braden’s back. That was the only time the ‘cat had been apologetic. Probably more for being unable to control his jump than for clawing his human’s back.

  It wouldn’t have been a problem if it had more fur on its back, like any respectable animal, G-War thought.

  Braden changed the trajectory of his hand so that he ruffled the fur around G-War’s neck, scratching a couple places he knew the ‘cat liked. The ‘cat opened the mindlink. ‘Ohh, right there. Yeah, that feels good. Don’t stop. Okay. Stop now.’ To punctuate this, G-War slapped Braden’s hand with a paw, claws retracted.

  Braden smiled and laughed. He knew the game. Petting G-War was therapeutic for both of them, as physical contact between them kept the bond strong. The power of the bond was not in owning the other, but in their commitment. Neither could be described as clingy. Braden was friendly, the ‘cat aloof. Neither could depart this friendship no matter the circumstance. Neither wanted to. Even after the ‘cat injured Braden, that same ‘cat comforted him, even finding numbweed for the human’s wounds. Unprocessed numbweed could only be made potent by chewing it. The ‘cat complained about the taste and that it made his mouth feel funny. The ‘cat also contended that Braden owed him for finding, chewing, and applying the numbweed.

  “Old Tech, my friend. To make our fortune, we need to find a source of Old Tech. Imagine if we could bring a wagon load back to Jefferson City itself!” Braden imagined himself at the head of a parade, being rewarded with money, power, women, maybe even a seat on the Council.

  “Whaddya think, G?”

  ‘I think that I don’t like being bored for the few hours a turn I am awake. I don’t like being hungry. I really don’t like the rain, because that leads to the thing I detest the most, being wet.’ The ‘cat locked eyes with Braden, then blinked slowly. ‘Whatever. Wake me when we get there.’ He got ready to jump off the desk.

  “Wait. Do the Hillcats know if the ancients had any hidden outposts and where they might be?”

  ‘Yes.’ The ‘cat jumped down and wriggled past Braden’s feet to wedge himself under the desk.

  “Thanks. Now tell me which way we need to go.”

  ‘Fine. South. South out of the hills, through the trees, across the desert, along the coast, and back into a forest. It is close to there. Maybe thirty turns away?’ The ‘cat curled up as he closed the mindlink.

  “But Warren Deep ends in the desert, which we can’t cross. It’s too far.” Braden thought for a minute. “It’s too far…”

  5 – A New Plan

  Everything else forgotten, Braden focused on what it would take to overcome the obstacles in reaching an Old Tech outpost. First, they had to cross a desert. How could they carry enough water and food to make the crossing possible? As he thought about it, that was the only real obstacle he saw. If they reached the other side and there was water, he could fish and the buffalo could graze. If there was a forest, they could hunt. Crossing the desert. Water. Food. Speed.

  He had time to think. It was another two turns to reach Cameron, then four turns south to reach Whitehorse, the last town before the Great Desert. He would fill up on water and information, then take the plunge.

  He was in great spirits riding high on the buckboard as the water buffalo ambled mindlessly forward. He needed to make a successful trade in Cameron, but he had always done well there. It was a crossroads between the east/west and the main north/south trade routes. They had a high turnover which meant they always needed goods. Braden had boxes of the finest flint arrowheads, some so small, they could be used in a blowgun to pierce the eye of a pigeon. He also carried bolts of rough cloth, a few tortoise shells shaped as breastplates for protection, and the smallest of his load but with the most potential for gain, he carried five vials of the spice saffrimander.

  Saffrimander was coveted by the wealthy to season any dish. It was produced in only two places, one of which Braden had passed through half a moon back. He traded a complete load of swords and knives, but knew it was well worth it.

  The weapons had been scavenged from a small battle between two neighboring communities in the western high-tree forests. Braden hadn’t done the scavenging but he made the trade, then put as much distance between him and the battlefield as he could. The trade of the weapons for Saffrimander had been a lucky one. Regardless, it would help to make his name in the business.

  Braden was a Free Trader. That meant he was not a member of the Caravan Guild. His parents had been members for a while, but they didn’t frequent the Jefferson City area. They had little interaction with the Guild and most importantly, the Guild could not provide them with protection, a main reason to pay the tithes. Guild trades protected both sellers and buyers. Guild prices guaranteed a certain quality.

  Braden would meet Guild Traders, for he was one of their suppliers. This was how the system worked best. Free Traders took more risk, but earned all the value of their trade. The Guild Traders paid the tithe, but risked far less. They knew what they would make from a trade. They knew that the trade was guaranteed. They lived boring lives of routine and comfort.

  That wasn’t for Braden. Although the Hillcat often made comments about wanting more servants.

  6 – Cameron

  Braden rolled slowly into Cameron, a smile on his
face as he thought of Ava. She was a friendly school teacher. He had not yet been successful in sharing more than a meal and drink, but maybe this trip, he would see more of her. He smiled broadly at that.

  G-War departed the wagon in a flash. Braden could never shut out the sexual antics of the ‘cat. G-War took it as his personal mission to never let a female domestic cat in heat go unserviced. He shared of himself as far and wide as possible. It was a bit disturbing for Braden. The ‘cat was so sedate, until females were around, then he became a one-‘cat dynamo. It could be an immense and intense distraction.

  This also left Braden most vulnerable, for the ‘cat provided a distinct edge when negotiating. G-War could feel when someone was rejoicing in the terms of the trade and this helped Braden to get a little more. He wanted people satisfied with their trades, not ecstatic at how they had out-bargained the Free Trader.

  Braden continued driving his team to the market square. Every town had one where the traders could set up their wagons, where local vendors plied local products, and where buyers came to buy. Stables were located near the markets so the beasts pulling the carts could be readily tended to. For a fee, of course.

  It was the law of the trade.

  As Braden unhooked the water buffalo, a couple of local vendors asked what he brought. He politely declined, waiting until he had more people around. Not having competing offers often led to getting a lower price, a less lucrative trade. Although Braden was young, he was no fool.

  As he was delivering his two stalwart buffalo to the stable, he was inundated with flashing images of a long-haired calico, the target of G-War’s affections. Then a small gray cat entered the picture. Another suitor, judging by how quickly G-War drove it away.

  The stable master took Braden’s delay as a counter to his offer. The prices were standard, so it wasn’t a tactic although the man lowered his fee to a single silver piece for both animals. Braden realized what the man was saying as the ‘cat reached his post-affections purr.

  “That’s a great deal and thank you. I’ll throw in five arrowheads for your kindness.” Free Traders needed to maintain good relations. No trade this turn was worth losing next turn’s deal. Traders who ripped people off went out of business very quickly. By out of business, he meant they were killed, like the man who had mistakenly perished in Binghamton. The stable master seemed nervous, but pleased with Braden’s addition to the agreed trade.

  Braden returned to his wagon, thinking that he would talk with the stable master later. He wanted to figure out what was amiss. He loved answers. Not so much the questions.

  7 – Upset the Trade

  Once his wagon was prepared for the trade, he stood on the buckboard and howled in his trader voice, “Come ye, come ye! See treasures from distant lands available for trade at prices so low you’ll be amazed! Cloth and arrowheads, breastplates and more! Are you safe? You will find peace of mind here! Come ye, come ye!” It didn’t take long before a small crowd surrounded his wagon, asking to see the wares.

  He pulled his items out, one by one--the cloth, each tortoise shell, a few arrowheads, and finally, when the haggling over these items tapered off, he stood back on his buckboard.

  “Saffrimander! Who has tasted this magical spice? You will never go back to average fare! Do I have an offer for one vial of the best saffrimander available?” He had been in town long enough to know that this was the only saffrimander available, so his statement wasn’t untrue. He didn’t know how it tasted so couldn’t personally attest to its quality. Never sample the wares, his father had taught him.

  There was a bit of jostling as people tried to get closer. Excitement always generated better deals. Scarcity also drove up prices. He would not reveal that he had four more vials unless the price went nice and high. He could trade vials and two water buffalo for two horses. The horses would get him closer to his goal, but that would be a lofty price indeed.

  There was more jostling and then the people parted, allowing the town’s security officer through. Everything got quiet.

  “G-War! I need you,” Braden whispered.

  ‘Right here,’ the ‘cat responded directly into Braden’s mind. He looked to his left, where the ‘cat was sitting calmly at the back of the wagon, watching everything.

  “How are you in this fine daylight, good sir?” Braden asked with a flourish and bow.

  “Hey, you! Come on down here. I want to talk to you.” He turned to the crowd. “Go on, all of you. That’s it. Trading is done for this turn.” He stepped back, looking at Braden with his hand on the pommel of the sword at his side. He was slightly overweight with a ten-turn growth of a straggly black beard. Beady eyes glared at Braden.

  The security officer ushered people away, waving them off with one meaty hand. He waited until they had gone before getting to the heart of it. “Give me the saffrimander,” he said without preamble, holding his hand out for the vial.

  “I don’t understand. This is for trade.”

  “Not anymore. I suspect it’s fake and as such, we can’t have it in the market. Now, give it to me.”

  Braden was torn. He had run into people before who tried to take his goods, but that was in less civilized places. Cameron was the last town within the Caravan Guild’s territory. As such, trades were always protected.

  “How can we sort this out, good sir? I guarantee that the saffrimander is real. I acquired it far to the west, near Lightning Creek.”

  The security officer seemed uninterested in Braden’s claims. He grabbed Braden’s arm and steered him toward the city government building.

  “There’s no need for that!” No answer from the gruff man. “G. Watch our rig. I’ll be in touch.” The security officer looked around to see who Braden was talking to. He couldn’t see anyone so he shook his head and continued on.

  Two men had been lurking in the shadows. After Braden and the security officer passed, they casually strolled toward the wagon.

  8 - Jail

  Once Braden and the security officer made it to the jail, any pretense of civility dropped. The man shoved Braden roughly to the floor. He took his gold coins and a few silver shekels, which Braden kept in his belt pouch to make change. Thankfully, he dropped most coins through a slot in the buckboard to a heavily secured chest hidden within.

  The man put Braden in manacles against a wall. In an imperious voice, the security officer proclaimed, “For violation of the rules regarding Fair Trade, you are sentenced to one turn in the manacles, no food, no water. Property on your person is confiscated. Your wagon will be searched for other contraband, which will also be confiscated once it is discovered.”

  Braden was furious. He was being robbed. “For any violations of Free Trade, a Guild representative is required to be present at the hearing! But this isn’t about that, is it?” The security officer laughed as he waddled away, holding the vial of saffrimander up to the light.

  Braden had no idea what the man thought he’d see in the spice. Braden was also happy that he only advertised one vial. He wasn’t sure that anyone would be successful in searching the wagon. G-War would hurt people, but they could overwhelm him with numbers. Braden needed to get himself out of this jail and out of town.

  9 – Run!

  The first man, lean with wicked eyes, put his hands on the wagon’s back gate in order to haul himself in. He screamed in pain as two claws lashed out, raking his arms and slicing tendons in the back of his hands. He doubled over in pain.

  The ‘cat leapt from the wagon onto the man’s back, immediately springing into the face of the second man. Before he could stop the ‘cat, it was claws-deep in his face and neck. He managed to grab hold of the cat’s tail, trying to fling him away, but that only ensured that the ‘cat could dig his claws deeper into the man’s throat. Blood spurted as his jugular was severed.

  G-War dropped to the ground and jumped back up, landing on the first man’s back. This time, he stood up and tried to shake the ‘cat off. G-War wrapped one paw around the man’s
throat from behind and with his long claws, ripped through the man’s windpipe. The dying man reached for his neck as he went to his knees.

  ‘Be there in a few bounds,’ G-War sent to Braden. The ‘cat measured time in heartbeats or turns of the sun, but also in distance he could cover.

  The orange tabby extended his body fully during his run to the jail. People barely noticed as he flashed by. He never hesitated as he leapt onto a ledge and squeezed his body through an open window. He saw the security officer seated at a table, looking greedily at the gold, silver, and saffrimander. The man didn’t notice the ‘cat until he landed on the table, upsetting the small treasure before him.

  The ‘cat made one powerful leap into the man’s face, knocking him backward off his chair. The ‘cat pushed off hard as they approached the stone floor. The security officer’s head smacked loudly when it hit. The ‘cat deftly rolled away, turned, and went into a crouch, ready to leap again. The man lay still.

  “The keys are in the pouch on his belt,” Braden offered. Although the ‘cat could work magic with his claws, he didn’t have hands. He ended up using his teeth to pull the pouch off and brought the whole thing to Braden. “Nicely done,” he said with a nod of thanks. “Is he dead?” The ‘cat didn’t answer. Braden quickly removed the key, then the shackles. He dropped it all on the filthy floor.

  He checked the man while G-War leapt into the open window and looked out. He was still alive. Braden took his money and vial of saffrimander, and without a further look, opened the door and strolled into the street as a free man.