Tusk and Blade (Chronicles of the Spice Wars Book 2) by Serrano Victor

Author:Serrano, Victor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

28

The Spice Trade

“And what is this?” Sir Gregor bellowed, raising a small bag of spices into the air and giving an ostentatious whiff as the storekeeper flinched.

“Turmeric, sir,” Vermilies reported. They’d been in the nearby fishing village for an hour now and had only recently found a shop off the main avenue, though debris from the Battle of the Irragonda River still littered the streets. “That’s what we call it, anyway.”

“Oh yes, the people of Quantan call it much the same,” Sir Gregor said, peering into the small bag. “How orange it is, all ground up. Nearly as orange as our sigil. How much, Vermilies?” he asked, cinching it back up and waggling it around to gesture at the depleted-looking shelves. “For all of it.”

“What’s he want?” the storekeeper whispered to Vermilies. “They’re not going to cut me down, are they? I should have left town…”

“No, not at all,” Vermilies said, flashing a reassuring grin. The man was middle-aged, his hair thinning up top, though from the rings he bore on his thin fingers it seemed he was prosperous enough. “You stand to make a fortune, Uncle. The Syriot standing before you is willing to pay handsomely for your spices. Then you can focus on getting more. That’s why they’re here, you see.”

“They started a war over spices?” the storekeeper muttered, wrinkling his nose. Vermilies shrugged. “Well, I’m normally better stocked, but since the invasion…” he sighed. “I can get more if the pay is good,” the man promised. “I have sources. I’ll bring you all kinds. Black pepper, white pepper, Xhan-Su stingbeads, cinnamon, cloves, needleroot, preacher’s plant, green kraton, red kratom, cardam—“

“I recognize those words,” Sir Gregor broke in suddenly. “Red kratom, yes?”

The storekeeper fell silent and nodded. “Red kratom,” he repeated.

“You see what I pay for turmeric?” he said slowly, producing a Syiot Imperial from his satchel. He slid the silver piece across the wooden counter. Then Sir Gregor extended all his fingers outward. “Ten times. I’ll pay ten times the price per weight for red kratom. Red kratom. Does he understand?”

Vermilies watched the avarice spread in the storekeeper’s eyes. “He understands.”

“What’s his name?”

“Weilun,” Vermilies translated the question and answer. The storekeeper pulled out a weathered, wooden abacus with flaking black paint. He slid it midway across the counter.

“Do you have any idea why they’re so interested in that particular spice?” Weilun asked quietly.

“No,” Vermilies admitted.

“Hmm. Let’s establish rates,” Weilun said, extending a finger at a wooden tray piled high with the distinctive shapes of star anise. Sir Gregor seemed quicker on the uptake than Vermilies, who simply fell into the role of clarifying words as the others bartered over numbers. The abacus clacked as Weilun slid several beads across. The Syriot frowned at it for a long moment, then reached over. He slid two back and Weilun sunk back, sucking loudly at his lips.

“Aya… tell the foreigner this rate would starve my children.”

“You want me to lie for you?” Vermilies replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Come on, help me out.

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