"If I wanted to make an ambush," Sorn thought out loud, "this would be the sight I would choose, assuming I knew a grain carriage train was coming this way. They would have to clear the area before they could proceed, and would be distracted by the unpleasant nature of their task."
Quietly, skilled as he was at casting lower order magics in the form of a crow, he conjured webs of both missile warding and invisibility in short order. Only slightly fatigued with the consecutive castings, he proceeded down to what was eye level for a man, looking for any trace of an ambush. He saw nothing.
With a sigh, he shifted to a shape better suited for manual tasks, and with a cape he found wet and soiled but at least free of contact with any of the corpses, he proceeded with the grim task of moving the bodies to the side of the road. His considerable strength made the task simple enough, though exceedingly unpleasant, and a still invisible Sorn rested some feet away before flying off to scout out the remainder of the path through the Deepwood. Not seeing anything with his crow-sight the length of the well-beaten trail, a now once more visible Sorn met up with the train just as they were entering the clearing.
"Didn't see anything of note, but you never know. I might have missed something from overhead. Also, the clearing ahead is where we were ambushed, but none of us thought to take care of the bandits on the path, so they had to be removed. We can get clear easily, but there is a definite odor thereabouts. Icky."
A startled Jesren raised an eyebrow at the crow, gave him a nod in confirmation of the report, and ordered his men and the wagons along at a faster clip, though keeping alert as always.
"So how are you guys doing?" Sorn asked his cousins, dropping in on the soaked and miserable looking trio, each in a separate wagon next to the driver.
"Wet, dear cousin, wet," Fitz said sarcastically, looking a bit peeved, perhaps because he didn't have the advantage of well-oiled feathers or the ability to dart under the canvas and so keep warm and dry.
"Take heart, Fitz, we'll be there soon enough!" Sorn said cheerfully, and fluttered off to his original wagon and the promising warmth of dry burlap.
The rest of the journey through Deepwood was uneventful, the pouring rain still dripping with irritating consistency through the thick canopy overhead, and the triplets were forced to reflect that not quite everything in their adventure was going according to the storybooks. Since when did heroes have to put up with rain dribbling down the neck of their woolen cloaks?
"At least we have woolen cloaks," Fitz murmured.
"And Sorn is warm and dry." Lieberman chuckled. "For all his complaining, he gets to play the best part!"
"Oh, you know wizards, they're always grumbling and complaining about something, so I guess he fits in perfectly!" Hanz said.
"I'm sorry, cousins, was there something you wanted to say? I was too busy being warm and dry to hear you the first time." With an odd little chuckle, Sorn puffed up his feathers once more and settled back into his nap.
"So Jesren, it’s getting dark out, are we going to make camp soon?" Lieberman called out sometime later.
"Soon enough lads, soon enough. We're just going to find as dry a spot as possible. No sense in riding horses in the dark at night. Too much risk of a horse turning up lame!"
"Lame?" queried Hanz.
"Horses like to break their legs in the dark,” Lieberman replied knowingly. “If there's a hole anywhere in the road, they can't resist sticking their legs into them at night, and then the rider has to shoot him.”
"It's not quite that bad," said an exasperated guardsman, gazing at the boys with an almost fatherly affection. "But it does behoove one to have a care, and travel at a slow pace with a lamp to light your way."
A spot dryer and flatter than any others in the vicinity was eventually found, and it was a weary group that made their camp, circling the wagons around the perimeter, the horses unhitched and allowed to graze the surrounding grass. Having finished his own repast, a now fully human looking Sorn found himself gazing fondly at his sleepy cousins digging into their dinner. He was reminded once more of how very much he cared for them, and silently promised himself, as he often did, that he would do his best to look out for them. It would be a very good thing indeed, should this trade venture work out. Should they be able to turn themselves into profitable traders, they would be in a position to freely be themselves, and not worry about insufficient food driving them into a frenzy, as they could eat their fill at need.
"Come on, cousins," Sorn said fondly. "Let's get you to bed. You look like you could all use some sleep." With that, Sorn gently led his sleepy cousins, bellies if not full, at least content with several bowls of beef porridge apiece, into the tent set up for their use. Though the youths had offered to help set it up, the men in question had given them a knowing look and politely informed them that it would be quicker if they just stayed out of the way.
Asleep almost before they tucked into their woolen blankets, Sorn cast a simple ward before he too drifted off into dreams strangely soft and frilly, filled with doe-eyed girls smiling at him, catching his gaze with their own and inviting him to stay for porridge.
"I can't believe this rain, doesn't it ever stop?!" queried an exasperated Lieberman the next morning, leaving no doubt as to how he felt about being woken up to help break camp and enjoy yet another day shivering in his cloak on a sodden bench, rain dribbling down his spine.
"Relax, Lieberman. If rain is the worst of your problems, you will be a very lucky man indeed." Jesren's good-natured tone, however, did little to cure Lieberman of the grumps, Sorn noted smugly, smugness being quite easy to feel as a crow, warm and dry under the burlap once again. Sorn quickly suppressed a smidgen of guilt, knowing his cousins were shivering for dramatic effect, true cold being as alien to them as flight was to the guard captain.
It was a number of hours later, approaching noon in fact, that the wagon train crested a final hill to see the ordered streets of a city stretching out to the edge of the shore below. Even from the hilltop, Sorn could see the bustle of people moving to and fro between the hundreds of buildings laid out with such neat precision, beyond anything he had ever seen before. Sorn couldn't help feeling a small bit of awe at all the hundreds or thousands of people that called this city their home. The buildings looked a bit grim, perhaps, roofs tiled in dark slate, but the walls were of sturdy stone and wood, straight and solid looking, even from here. He could only wonder what it would be like once they were among the buildings themselves.
"And that, my young friends, is the port city Pormar, one of the largest cities in the duchy," Jesren said to the accompanying oohs and ahs of Sorn and his cousins. "Get your looks in now, lads. Be impressed, but don't show it when you get there, lest you be taken for a boy just off the farm, and taken for all your money too, if you're not careful!" With that, a far more cheerful group of men and boys made their way down to the city below, their goal finally in sight.
A short time later, Jesren was talking quietly with one of the guards at the front city gates, the only break in the city wall that a now very human looking Sorn could see from here, while several other city guards perfunctorily looked under all the tarps while gossiping with Canterbier's men. It was a casual inspection at best, and they soon found themselves traversing the main boulevard that headed straight towards the pier. Jesren explained to Sorn and his cousins that this main thoroughfare had been made quite wide and constructed with very large blocks from a limestone quarry, all with the idea of facilitating trade from the outlying countryside to Pormar's busy port, intersecting a very busy market along the way.
Despite having seen the size of the city from afar, the shear magnitude of the number of buildings, in addition to the bustle and flow of literally hundreds of people, voices raised in greetings, negotiations, pleasantries, and shouts, was completely overwhelming to Sorn at first, and Sorn could see the same held true for his cousins as well. The buildings themselves were indeed solidly built and of a uniform construction, as he had
surmised from the hillcrest above. Almost all of them were built with a first floor stone foundation, from which two more stories constructed of dark stained wood rose above, the sloped rooftops themselves being capped with overlapping tiles of slate. The train of wagons slowly made its way through the orderly bustle of people, and Sorn noted a number of carriages making their steady way through the crowds in the opposite direction. Sorn couldn’t help marveling at how wide the boulevard was, and how very many people there seemed to be. They were a busy looking lot, or so it seemed, bodies huddled beneath woolen coats protecting them from the cold rain, while they hurried to wherever their errands were taking them, hailing a quick greeting here in there as they made their way.
"Why do so many windows have their shutters open when it's raining?" queried a curious Fitz.
"See the wooden frame with the dozen slots in the windows?" Jesren asked, raising his mail-covered arm to point to the windows of a nearby building. "They're filled with glass, and you would see the light shining off of them, were it not so overcast. Though never inexpensive, Pormar is home to the largest glass foundries to be found anywhere in the known world, and so it's a major exporter of glass of all types, most especially windowpanes. Yes, Pormar is famous for its glass. The main boulevard we are traversing is considered one of Pormar's more well-to-do areas, and as the glass is locally made, it is cheaper to be had here than anywhere else, so a number of these homes have glass windowpanes. A luxury once fit only for a palace is now a common item affordable to all the well-off of Pormar. So you see, lads, the power of traders and craftsmen alike that together makes Pormar a rich city indeed!" Jesren smiled, and Fitz nodded raptly at his explanation.
"This is the main market square here," Jesren explained as the boulevard opened into a wide square filled with people yelling, gesticulating, cajoling and shouting. Sorn realized that what he thought of as busy in the boulevard was just a trickle compared to the crowd of buyers and sellers that made up the market here. In addition to every building being a storefront, there were also any number of stalls and tables dispersed amongst the square, most with a tarp of some sort above to keep the steady drizzle off both the seller's goods and the potential customers viewing them.
Sorn also saw a number of wagons dispersed throughout the square's center, most displaying produce apparently fresh off the farm, literally bursting with wholesome goodness and all at the peak of ripeness, at least according to the farmers displaying their produce to the crowd. Jesren explained that although it looked like the height of confusion, an utter jumbled chaos, that in fact all was precisely arranged, every stall and wagon occupying a specific space rented from the city council. He further indicated that, looks to the contrary, everything was carefully laid out, particularly the wagons, so as to allow for ease of navigation as well as the wagons' own inevitable exit after one or several days' time. Sorn did note that the market, or bazaar, as Jesren liked to call it, was indeed laid out in orderly rows when he was at right angles to various rows of stalls. His keen eyes noted everything from cloth, to silks, to elegant looking daggers on display.
Sorn's acutely honed sense of smell also made note of at least a dozen different incense and spices permeating the market, and any number of stalls were frying any number of different and exotic dishes as told by the wonderful fragrance of their odors. Everything from small sticks spearing rows of vegetables interspersed with juicy bits of beef sizzling on the grill, to delicious looking soups and stews, to hot meat pies and other assorted pastries, were made available to passersby. Sorn couldn't help inhaling deeply, the delicate fragrances tantalizing his senses with the gustatory delights to be had.
Sorn saw many other stalls of note as they slowly traversed the square, and the triplets particularly liked one that had a number of finely carved wooden figurines and fanciful carvings. Indeed, it was a disappointed trio who were politely but firmly informed that they did not have time to explore the market further. Nonetheless, several of the men had wandered off into the fair with a knowing smile from Jesren, and shortly thereafter it was a number of grinning guardsmen who presented the four youths with a number of delicious looking meat pies, flaky crusts covering juicy savories wrapped inside.
"Why thank you!" said a surprised Sorn to the smiling guard who held out a pie for him. "It's quite good," he exclaimed upon biting into the flaky crust, his mouth instantly flooded with the wondrous flavors of beef, gravy, potato, and spices melding perfectly together in a symphony of flavor, and from the sounds his cousins made, they were in complete accord.
"Don't mention it, young sir," the guard said cheerfully. "Happy to get a little something for the heroes of Canterbier!"
"Remind me to be a hero more often," Sorn replied, receiving a polite chuckle as he proceeded to eat his pie.
Soon enough the wagon train passed the market square, the boulevard, if anything, even wider and cleaner than it had been before, the buildings of even finer construction. Elegant carvings on doors and windowsills gave a touch of art and grace to the otherwise brooding countenances of the dark buildings, and Sorn found that the faint salty tang of what he could only assume was the sea was now more prevalent than ever. Jesren had the wagon train halt in front of one a particularly fine looking domicile before dismounting and leading the youths inside, explaining that this was the residence and office of Pemith, the Pormar factor that Lord Canterbier made use of. He went on to explain that Pemith had been responsible both for helping to find and orchestrate the deal with the freight barge owner here in Pormar as well as for having discovered the original demand for grain from an associate factor in York.
The offices were well appointed, rich carpet and well-crafted oaken furniture giving the waiting room they were in an elegant air. There were also several small portraits of women dressed in rather fanciful outfits, quite different from the drab attire being worn outside, and Sorn thought they could perhaps be portraits of family members from a bygone era. Almost immediately a door opened in an adjoining room, and a plump little man richly dressed and smiling broadly ushered them inside.
"Jesren, how are you?" the man inquired warmly, leading the five of them to comfortable looking chairs, lined with quilted soft cushions and armrests. It was a nice change for the trio who had made the entire journey on the wet hard wagon benches, and Sorn found the accommodations quite comfortable as well, despite having been warm and dry as a crow.
"I am fine, Pemith, how goes it with yourself?" Jesren politely asked in turn, smiling at the little man.
"Quite well, quite well. Oh, good news by the way. Lord Canterbier need not worry about securing the grain barges, as my sources indicate that all the local grain contracts had been bought up some time ago, so most of those who hold a reserve are in no position to sell it, needing their stores to fulfill their obligations. Though at the premiums some of those contracts had been sold at, those farmers have no real reason to complain. The contracts, as is often the case, were primarily arranged through several of the major houses in York. The feelers I sent out regarding the possibility of buying one or more grain contracts were met with flat out refusal. It seems that whoever the Houses are representing is not interested in selling the grain they now own at any price."
Pemith flashed a satisfied smile. "As one might expect, my associate in York affirms that all available grain contracts have been snatched up there as well. Indeed, it appears that there is no unaccounted for grain to be found anywhere in the Famil Duchy. Thus, our venture is still secure, and we should be able to procure quite a high price indeed from this trader."
The factor then beamed. "You know, I always felt that Lord Canterbier was missing out on a way to make a comfortable steady profit selling options on his grain, but it seems that he now stands to profit quite handsomely, having left his options open, so to speak."
"That is wonderful news indeed, good Pemith," Jesren commended. "But there has been a slight change of plans. The youths who sit before you and whom you have been so discreet as t
o not enquire about, are, in fact, the present owners of the grain to be shipped, having been sold the grain at cost by Lord Canterbier with an opening to all contracts implied between you and he in regards thereof. Pemith, may I introduce you to Sorn, Lieberman, Fitz and Hanz." Jesren indicated each youth with a hand on the shoulder as a smiling Pemith shook each of their hands warmly and seemed genuinely pleased to meet them.
"It is always a pleasure having fresh faces to work with, and Lord Canterbier is an excellent judge of character," Pemith exclaimed warmly. "Please, allow me to get us all some refreshments." At which point he rang a small bell on the desk and a matronly women soon entered, giving all seated a polite curtsy and taking orders for red wine and pastries before leaving.
"Now, I take it Lord Canterbier has explained the matter fully? The freight ship owner Kalek has agreed to ship the ten wagonloads of grain to York, wherein you all will meet with my associate factor there who will, in turn, contact the trader so anxious to buy our grain. In return, he will receive one-fourth of any profits made above and beyond the established fair price for grain here in Pormar, which, with all the options contracts pulled in, has raised the value of grain up to a generous one point five gold per standard wagonload.
"What this means, lads, is that one-fourth of the gold the merchant pays beyond fifteen gold is the barge merchant's, and the rest of the gold you receive, minus a five percent factors fee from profits, of course, is yours. Is this acceptable to you lads?" The four youths nodded in the affirmative, and Pemith beamed happily. "Excellent. It will be a pleasure to work with you. Now let us enjoy Nancy's delightful pastries while we await the barge merchant, who shall sign the contracts with us shortly."
Gold & Glory Page 14