Marshal Arcane by Terry Mancour

Author:Terry Mancour [Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

A Cat With A Fish

Banamor

“It looks like the town has fully recovered since the Magic Fair,” Minalan remarked as Banamor escorted him through the town’s market.

Banamor looked around at the stalls and kiosks that filled the market square, noting that each one was filled as the fresh harvest brought a wave of goods to market. Market wardens guarded every entrance, each armed with a magical sentry rod that could be used to defend against attack – or apprehend shoplifters. He took a deep breath.

“You would think that,” he said, shaking his head, “but people are still fearful. Prices are good and supply is steady, but everyone is still nervous. Even retrieving the prisoners doesn’t change that.”

“They overcame a dragon attack,” reasoned Minalan. “They’ll forget about this by Yule,” he predicted.

“Mayhap,” shrugged Banamor. “A lot can happen before the end of the year. But business is good,” he conceded. “Too good, in some ways. The prices here are drawing more and more estates to sell here, instead of Sendaria or other towns. And what they can pick up in return is superior. Look at this,” he said, stopping at a booth selling cutlery – not swords and daggers, but useful implements every farmstead needed. “Yltedene steel, direct from Vanador’s forges. Sharp as a biting comment, strong as a rock,” he said, as he picked up a hatchet. “Two years ago this would have cost five ounces of silver for mere iron and taken a smith a month to finish properly. This one sells for three, and will last thrice as long as an iron axe.” He put the tool back and flashed the vendor a quick smile.

“Isn’t that progress?” Minalan asked.

“It is . . . unless you’re a local smith who makes axes. They’ll go the way of Sevendor’s chandlers and plowmen, before long, I imagine,” he speculated. “That’s the market, though. Always changing.”

“It’s about to change a lot more,” Minalan suggested. “We’ll be establishing a permanent portal to Vanador, shortly. You won’t even have to stick these things into a hoxter pocket anymore. Just drive a cartload of them through the arch and be on your way.”

“And we’ll be able to sell vegetables and grain to Vanador – and whatever enchantments they’re not making for themselves,” he agreed. “That’s going to throw both markets into a tizzy.”

“You’re worried?” Minalan asked, surprised.

“I’m investing,” Banamor said, shaking his head. “A market in a tizzy is ripe for profit if a man is smart and can keep his head. But the portals will undercut the profits from the Wizard’s Mercantile. At least between Vanador and Sevendor. You plan on putting more portals in elsewhere?”

“Falas, Vorone, Castabriel, Remeralon, Wenshar, probably even Wilderhall, eventually,” Minalan listed, as they continued walking. “All directly connected to Sevendor. We’ll be the hub of a mighty trading empire.”

“Of course,” Banamor agreed. But he didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, even to himself. “Have you informed His Majesty and the Royal Treasury about your plans?”

“The matter did not arise at the recent Curia,” admitted Minalan with a chuckle.

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