The Labos House

Einos and Dhelklew took my measurements. After some back and forth, they said that the chitin coat and striker would be ready in a moon. Twice as long as gear made of steel.

“It can’t be helped,” Dhelklew said apologetically. “The priests are not, after all, blacksmiths. They will only be able to work on the chitin in between their duties.”

Dhelklew had many daggers in stock. None of them fitted my hand comfortably. He agreed to forge a new one for me, a task of three days.

Einos gave me the best of his leather goods. He also threw in a flask of oil and a cloth to keep them clean.

At the market, I sold my lesser-grade gear, then bought a cloak and blanket of rough, undyed wool, and a broad-brimmed hat of dark, shapeless felt. That left me with a single kapmedos of silver in all. With my business completed, I made my way to the Labos House.

Halfway between the Northern Gate and the market, the Labos House was the grandest agland in Verdwer. In size it rivaled the temples and the royal hall, in height it had no equal. The capitals of the fluted columns were decorated with reliefs of wheat and cattle, and chasings of gold and silver. The brick walls were painted in ivory, the wooden window frames in red. Four men with half-plate harnesses and halberds stood by the door.

In the entry hall, orbha in tunics of white and collars of gold saw to the visitors. Some were farmers with dirt-stained clothes and sacks of trade goods. Others were outland merchants, their sharp, clipped accents and richly-dyed clothes setting them apart. Lounging about benches of stone, beakers of wine and water in hand, they waited their turn.

A woman with long, flowing tresses and padlocked collar came up to me and bowed.

“Welcome to the Labos House. How may we serve you today?”

“I seek Keitan of Omosghortos and his sons,” I replied. “I had arranged to meet them here.”

“Ah, yes. They have gone ahead of you. What is your name, poti?”

“Taran Barak-sonu.”

She blinked. Her lips pursed. Her eyes flickered up and down. Then she swallowed and bowed again.

“Please come this way.”

She brought me to the central ghortos. The sun beat down on a garden of rocks and potted shrubs and pollarded trees. A bubbling fountain burned brightly under the light. Four floors of rooms and windows and walkways and doors looked down upon us.

Sheltered in the porch, well-fed men lounged on velvet cushions and sturdy benches along the wall. Their clothes were fine linens trimmed with silk, embroidered with threads of gold or silver, and their cloaks were wool dyed in white and red. These were the merchants of the Labos House. Their orbha stood or sat nearby, with scales, tablets and scrolls close to hand.

Seated across from the merchants, on low cushions and portable benches, were their customers. Sacks and chests and barrels were piled around them.

Some of the conversations were quiet whispers. Others were marked with sweeping gestures and loud laughter. Always they were intense, for all knew well the klewos of the Labos House.

The orbhos brought me to a corner. There I found Keitan and Augus, haggling with a merchant. The orbhos bowed to them both.

“Potes, Taran Barak-sonu has come.”

Keitan broke into a smile. “Ah, here you are. This is Eilan. Eilan, this is the man who reaped the khonkongha.”

Eilan the merchant had a face as round as the moon, and when he smiled, his teeth were small and even.

“They say you are a mighty warrior, Taran Barak-sonu.”

“He is!” Augus insisted. “He hewed Kwei-beasts like reeds!”

“You speak kindly,” I said.

The orbhos sat me down on a pile of cushions, bowed once more, and left.

“You have good timing,” Keitan continued. “We were just about ready to seal a deal for the chitin.”

Keitan and Augus had four sacks between them. Together they made up one of the large sacks I had brought to Dhelklew.

“Eight pekuna of silver, as agreed,” Eilan said. “Please sign the tablet.”

The orbhos-scribe handed it to Eilan with two hands. Keitan looked at it dumbly.

“Please check the contract,” Eilan said.

“In the country, we would simply shake hands and call the Hallower to witness,” Keitan said.

“Yet we are not in the country, and the tablet is also hallowed.”

Indeed, a white spark danced within the yellow wax.

“I can’t read,” Keitan admitted.

“I can,” I said. “May I?”

“Please,” Eilan said.

The orbhos-scribe handed me the tablet. I read it thrice, paying careful attention to the names and the weights.

“Everything is in order,” I replied, returning the tablet.

“Please sign the contract,” Eilan said.

“I can’t write either,” Keitan said.

“Then we shall have the honor of signing for you,” Eilan replied.

The orbhos inscribed the tablet with his stylus. I read it once more, confirming that it bore his name. The spark became a flash. For a moment, the tablet glowed bright under the sun. Then it was mere wax once more.

“The deal is sealed and witnessed,” Eilan concluded.

“And we’ll be coming back later with smoked khonkonghos meat,” Augus cut in.

“Of course. And I will be glad to do business with you again. After all, I’m sure you’d rather sell to the Labos House than Kladhran Kikera.”

Everyone laughed.

Eilan looked me over, up and down and up again.

“You’re a big, strong lad,” Eilan said, “and a blooded fighter besides. How would you like to earn some silver?”

“What kind of work do you have in mind?” I asked.

“The Labos House will be sending a trade convoy to the frontier ghortoes. We’re looking for strong, honest, reliable men to escort the wagons.”

“You have a koryos of your own, don’t you?”

“Yes. But these are dangerous times. You must have heard of the Kwei-beasts and bandits running around. We are hiring auxiliaries.”

“How much are you paying?”

“A quarter-pekunos for twenty days’ work. Easy enough for a man like you.”

Escort work was never easy. On the other hand, four kapmeda would go a long way.

“We will provide food and drink of course,” Eilan continued, “but you will need to bring your own gear. Although it seems you are already outfitted for the road.”

“That I am,” I agreed. “Will you be part of the convoy?”

He laughed and waved his fat hands.

“No no no no no! I’m a city man, as you can see. The branch head will send his son to lead the convoy. And who knows, if you do well, you may be invited to join our koryos.”

I rubbed my chin. “When does the convoy depart?”

“Tomorrow morning, at first watch. If you’re joining us, we’ll be outside the North Gate.”

“Tomorrow is… rushed.”

“I understand. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

I looked at Keitan and Augus. They looked back. The father’s face was a stone, but his son’s eyes were wide and his lips tight.

“I will have to speak to the ghortospotis,” I replied.

“Of course, of course,” Eilan said. “But just remember: a chance like this doesn’t come every day.”

His eyes gleamed as he spoke, as though he already knew what I would do.

He would be right.