Merchant and Magic by Alma T C Boykin

Author:Alma T C Boykin [Boykin, Alma T C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-11T22:00:00+00:00

“Why’d you sell to the farmer?” one of the fine-goods merchants asked a few days after they’d crossed the Gheel.

“His money’s as good as anyone’s.” Tycho didn’t like the taste of the food that night, but it was food and he hadn’t cooked it, so he stayed quiet.

The fine-goods man opened his mouth to reply when they heard Jens exclaim, “No mages?” Everyone stopped and turned to see what the commotion was.

Jens and a local farmer had been bargaining over some fodder for the great-haulers. “No mages right now. The fire-away mage died back last full moon, and our beast-mage lost his power, still not go it all back yet. Heard that the light-mage over in Lordswood is still working, but he’s got enough work to keep him eating meat twice a day every day.” The lean man scratched under his floppy straw hat, then settled it on his head again. “T’others died, or still so weak they can’t do proper work. Bad stuff it is, heard we’re not t’only ones?”

“Aye. Happened in Platport, Gheelford, other places north of the river,” Jens said. “No one knows why.”

“Huh. Well, that doesn’t change my price.” Tycho returned to chewing. What was happening to the mages? No mage-lights meant more candles, for one. Wax would go up in price, and he decided to encourage Gerta to buy more and ship it to Gheelford. He’d send a letter to the factor there to warn him of the shipment and to see if the chandlers wanted to buy it at a discount for early cash payment. Lamp-oil too, but he didn’t trade in that yet. The cost of shipping just didn’t cover the price, or it hadn’t. Without light-mages, it might go up enough to make it worth his while, perhaps.

As the merchants, guards, and their beasts walked farther and farther south, Tycho began wondering why the gods had not seen fit to make at least one river run south to north. All the useful rivers for trade ran from east to west, from the distant eastern mountains to the western sea. A few smaller rivers fed into the great rivers like the Gheel and Moahne, but they were not long enough to be useful for traders needing to ship goods. For that matter, why had the gods made the Moahne and Gheel so difficult to ship on? Because they had, he told himself yet again. And there might be a reason he didn’t want to know. They were on the dry stretch between streams, and trees had given way to grass and perfume shrub. Instead of brown, the dirt was reddish with white lumps in it. The world was as it was.

Yergin, one of the grain merchants, wiped his face with a scrap of something formerly white and waved at the land around them, carefully, lest he startle the great-haulers. “I’ve heard it said that this area was true desert during the Great Cold, like far southern Liambruu is today. No grass, just scrub and sand and prickle-ball plants, that kind of place.

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