The Taleweaver
Closing a deal

A large part of the fields surrounding the road leading out of Belgera had been turned into a temporary town with wagons instead of houses, and that town was soon becoming the major market in the capital.

At first Harbend had been afraid local merchants would turn sour, but it was all too evident that resuming trade was something all had longed for. He received almost no complaints at all, and the few reaching him were mostly about traders celebrating their stay here too lively. A couple of fights over girls were inevitable, but as the reveling men brought more money to empty coffers the innkeepers only sighed, cleaned up the broken furniture and happily counted the money Harbend paid for the damage.

As furniture, cloth and instruments found their way into the capital a steady stream of metal bars, sharp blades, horse shoes and a multitude of farming tools, all metal, went in the opposite direction. The mechanical devices Harbend bought in Verd paid off handsomely, as did the brandy and the furniture from Erkateren. With the wares he bought in exchange he was certain to make enough profit selling it back home to pay one full years rent in advance and still have his wagons and horses. One more caravan and he'd be able to pay back the money he borrowed from Arthur and keep a modest fortune enough to buy goods for a third.

The traders from Ri Khi would be better off. Many of them had brought their own wagons and goods they had produced themselves, as was the case with those from Erkateren who dared the journey. The thought didn't bring any dismay to Harbend. He still needed each caravan at least a hundred wagons strong to be economically sound, and the best way to keep numbers up was to have traders returning a lot wealthier than when they departed.

Right now he needed to make sure they had everything they needed for their safe return to Erkateren and Keen. And safe meant increasing their escort. He'd already paid Captain Trindai and Nakora several eightdays in advance. Armed soldiers were better at guarding money than he was.

His mind wandered to a picture of Nakora and laughing children. Wishful thinking to say the least. It didn't matter. He wanted to show her Verd and Hasselden, and he longed for an opportunity to settle down somewhere with her at his side. She returned his feelings, and if he didn't anger her too much, well maybe, some day.

Harbend walked through Downtown in search for the traders he'd assigned command during his hunt for Arthur. They retained some of that role even after he returned, and he wanted to plan the journey back with them. With some luck they'd all be on their way home within an eightday.

He hoped for a short meeting with the traders. Arthur was expecting him for some kind of meeting planned at late afternoon or early evening. Harbend wasn't about to miss that. It probably had something to do with Arthur's spending time with Karia, and Harbend was curious what it was all about. One thing was certain with Arthur. There were few boring moments when he got an idea and decided to carry it off.

Harbend grinned and a woman made a surprised face as if he'd addressed her. Harbend twisted his grin into a smile and bowed, but his mind was elsewhere. There were few boring moments whenever Arthur was involved. The man had a way of getting involved in interesting events even if he didn't intend to. Outworld must be an exciting place to produce men like Arthur. Maybe one day Harbend would be able to visit it himself. He smiled at the thought and made himself ready for his meeting.

A few others! Damn Karia! It had to be the entire city council in the room. Of course Karia himself wasn't anywhere to be seen. Well, it was too late for second thoughts now.

Arthur took a deep breath in preparation for a speech to replace the promised conversation. The cunning bastard! Karia must have known all along. Hell, he probably planned it this way from the beginning. Arthur let out his breath in a long sigh. He almost wished Gring hadn't been there. Without her he could have used his speaking no Brakish to force a smaller meeting with those who understood De Vhatic, but there would be no such escape now.

He glared at his audience to be. All men, all old. At least they looked old, but in a place as harsh as this he couldn't be certain. A few might even be older than himself. All of them though, that much was clear to him from reading their expressions, were far more experienced than he in matters of everyday reality of ruler ship. They led a city, or possibly an entire nation, dependent on the decisions they made whereas his experience was that of making dreams, legends and history come true to listeners wanting to escape that very reality if only for a short while.

Arthur sighed again and waited for the noise of conversations to subside into a low murmur. He had accepted a responsibility he wasn't certain he could shoulder, and he'd only get one chance.

"Gentlemen," he began. "I've been asked to describe for you how roads and other means of transport could make your lives easier and maybe even a little less dangerous."

Arthur watched for signs of interest or scorn in the men facing him. It was more difficult than he thought. Most of them preferred full beards hiding their expressions. Maybe deliberately, he thought.

"Karia Graig, a scout of yours," Arthur searched for the face until he remembered that Karia wasn't present. "came to me earlier with this request."

"Truly his father's son," one bearded face spat. At least one who didn't hide his scorn, beard or not.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Lord Graig has tried to convince us for decades. That he would stoop as low as to involve a foreigner I didn't expect."

Another face reddened visibly. Arthur could see enough of Karia in it to recognize the father.

"I don't understand," Arthur said, hoping to defuse the situation before it got too tense.

"Graig estate begins two days on horseback north from here. Of course he'd want a road to further his business."

Arthur groaned silently. So there were personal politics involved as well.

"All would gain," Arthur tried.

"Says you. How much have you been paid to deliver this message, errand boy?"

Arthur didn't pay any heed to the insult. As such went it didn't carry much weight to one used to the far more skillful barbs thrown by rich tourists deciding that offending their guide was part of what they had paid for. He did need to counter it of course, but how? Arthur thought frantically while the smile grew wider on the man who'd proposed he'd been bribed. The answer came, and with it an opportunity to pay back the insult in a way that would benefit them all.

"I'm not aware I'd need your money. In fact I'm certain that with the money I brought for this trip I could buy the Graig estate and yours." He had them listening now.

"That's ridiculous. I'm a city count of Belgera. Half the rural duchies are poorer than my fiefdom," the man shot back.

"Ah, of course," Arthur said smiling evilly. "Belgera is a different matter. To buy Belgera I would need to dig a little deeper in my pockets." Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"Do you take us for idiots?"

"When it comes to money I never take anyone for an idiot, especially not myself." Arthur deliberately added steel to his voice. "Make no mistake. With the money I have at my disposal I could buy this town you call a capital and probably the rest of Braka as well." He stared the man down. "But then, of course, I come from a world where good transportation is taken for granted," Arthur finished.

He was rewarded with nervous laughters. Spreading his arms he took voice again. "I promise you. You can do this. All your mines produce stone that has to be disposed of anyway. That stone can be the foundation for a network of roads, and with the amount of iron you have available here a proper railroad is another possibility." He paused to catch his breath. "With an effective connection between Belgera and the harbor you could cut transport times between the ships and your capital to less than a day." Gasps told him he had their full attention. "You could even start building roads on the Sea of Grass, if the people there would allow you of course." Arthur stared at the faces around him. They had to see the benefits. "With a good road all the way to the mountain pass you'd never be dependent on one single route for trading again."

There was silence for a while, but eventually one of them grasped that he wasn't set on continuing his speech. "The cost of hiring Magecrafters on the scale you suggest would ruin us," he said.

They were listening, but they were still not convinced. He could see it in their faces, and why should they be. He was a foreigner, even less known here than he had been in Verd.

Ah, Verd of course. Capital of their most important ally. Keen, who's power was defined by an enterprise in magic on a magnitude that must have been worthy of an empire. How would he make them understand it wasn't needed? He took good communications for granted, but that was another world. Here most roads were nothing more than a well used track, a muddy hell when it rained and a dusty one when it did not. No wonder people avoided traveling.

Arthur inhaled deeply. How? How could he possibly make them understand. How to make them believe there was no need of magic to build good roads? He searched their faces. Stern all of them, all but Harbend's and Gring's. Arthur smiled despite himself. If he could identify Gring's different expressions he must have grown used to her presence indeed.

"I tell you that you stand to gain immensely from this." He was on the verge of giving up. "Ah hell, dammit, if you could only see..." He looked at Gring and she nodded approvingly. "I'll make you see!"

The faces showed a bit more interest now.

"I'm Arthur Wallman, taleweaver, and I'll make you see what I have seen, how it's been done, why it's been done and what benefits a good network of communications can bring."

Now the faces showed more than just interest. Only a few of them knew of his claim to be a taleweaver, and as such he had to be a rare novelty by himself. Now he'd promised them a tale, even though a very strange one.

"You do have a Taleweaver's inn here where we could go?" A redundant question if any. Arthur already knew the answer.

"Yes." It was a thin voice, already breaking with old age. "It's only open for those of the craft though."

"I'm not too familiar with the procedures. May I, as a taleweaver, invite guests for whom the Weave is meant?"

"I don't know. You're the taleweaver. You ask."

That was to the point if anything. Arthur smiled. Perpetually depressed or not, he liked one aspect of the people here. They were deceptively simple, but most of it was just the dispensing of everything not necessary. Uncouth some would call them. Honest and blunt was his impression, and he didn't mind at all. They reminded him somewhat of people he met in northern Europe.

"Then I think we'd better get going, don't you?"

There was a murmur and some loud protests, but in the end they all filed out and entered the streets.

Arthur took the lead. He knew the general direction to the Taleweaver's inn, and he hoped he'd recognize its exact location when they were closer. Besides, he had promised he'd bring them in as guests, and the least he could do was to find his way there. He would. He'd been able to make them listen to him now, and he'd make them see as well.

Arthur walked along the silent streets of stony Belgera, always keeping in the general direction where he knew the Taleweaver's inn to be. It wasn't long before he saw the telltale sign over a door.

He did hesitate then, but with so many following his steps he didn't dare to show his misgivings. With an air of resolution he didn't feel he strode to the archway. He knocked quickly so as not to allow any second thoughts to stay his hand.

The door opened, and a man who could have been the twin to the one at the Roadhouse peered out. "Your errand?"

"Ah," Arthur hesitated, "to Weave." he answered smiling as the obvious thing to say came to his mind.

"Then enter."

Arthur did as bid, but when he saw the man starting to close the door behind them he halted his steps. "They enter as well."

"They have no errand here."

"They do. They are to experience the Weave."

"They do not share the profession. They may not enter."

"I am a taleweaver. I define the profession, and I say they may enter. Now hold that door open! I command it!"

Arthur received a disapproving stare, but the door stayed open, and one by one the city elders of Belgera filed in behind him.

He took to the stage and waited for his audience to find seats for themselves before he spoke. "I've gathered you here to see for yourselves how transportation and communications made it possible for my own home to evolve far beyond what you would believe possible."

Arthur stared at their faces. They looked as if they wouldn't even believe he could show then anything to begin with, but he was confident enough in his own ability to know that would change.

"First, though, you shall eat and drink while we wait for other guests to arrive."

Arthur didn't intend to break more with tradition than he'd already done. He waited for his meal and the pitcher of watered wine he suspected would arrive in preparation for his Weave. Thirsty work lay ahead, but first he would gather strength from his food.

He idly wondered what kind of people would show up this evening. Some were certain to catch his interest, but he doubted anyone would make quite such a colorful entrance as Escha and Trai had done all those months earlier.

Remembering Trai soured his elation, but he shook the thought away. It was a violent world, and the mage had chosen his way of life, and in doing so his way of death. That had never been the case with Kyoko, his own wonderful wife, or with his children. They'd done nothing to warrant their ends. That thought soured him even further, and unable to lift his mood this time he simply gulped down some wine and hoped he wouldn't find any more reasons to sulk. The death of his family was in the past. It would never cease to hurt entirely, but they deserved more from him than his self pity.

He ate, alone among his audience, and when he had almost finished his meal the first invited guests started to arrive. A man and a woman with the same yellow eyes as Neritan sat down right in front of him, staring at him disapprovingly as he swallowed the last pieces of food. He wondered what he'd done to aggravate them. Maybe the door man had said something to spite him. He returned their glares with an arrogant smile. They'd learn, as had all done who'd doubted his ability on the stage. Well, Kharg excepted, of course, but this was his world nonetheless, and it was a world he mastered fully.

Arthur pushed away the plate and leaned back in his chair. Half an hour or less before broadcast. That was far more time than he'd ever needed for a holo show.

This time he had a topic he knew by heart rather than some of the more risky attempts at teaching he'd sometimes embarked upon. Often in front of an audience knowing more about his subject than he did himself. Those times he relied on his ability to spellbind any listener with his performance. This time he only had to confer something he truly believed in. It would be a good evening, and he knew that once again he would give a show he could be proud of afterwards.

Arthur settled down more comfortably in his chair and waited for the last of the guests to arrive. They did. He rose.

"Honored guests. The tale I have for you tonight is one of wonders and heroism. It's about the bravery to change minds and by doing so to change a world. You'll learn how with simple tools and hard work my ancestors created the foundation my world rests on today."

Then Arthur Wove. He made them watch railroads laid out on barren ground eight hundred years earlier, and he allowed them to sit in a train passing horsemen and horse drawn wagons. He showed them the network of roads connecting cities to each other but carefully edited away the disastrous consumption of fossil fuels that had followed. Earth could sell them cleaner vehicles until the day Otherworld knew how to manufacture them without foreign help.

He knew he'd caught their undivided attention when he saw awe mixed with greed in their faces, and he even found time to smile as he Wove.

Arthur woke with a sense of satisfaction. The previous night proved he still had every bit of his capacity well in hand. Today he'd speak with Karia. He hadn't been invited to join the council or the Taleweaver's inn and would want to know how Arthur's performance had gone.

Damn that cunning man!

Yet Arthur realized Karia had what was needed to become part of Belgera's ruling body one day or another.

Arthur dressed quickly and even had time to get some breakfast before he heard the expected knock on his door. He rose and let Karia in.

"Good morning, Lord Wallman," Karia said.

Arthur smiled back. Thank God the man knew De Vhatic. It would have been a short conversation otherwise, at least until they managed to find Gring.

"And a good morning to you, Lord Graig."

"I believe we can dispense with formality now. You know why I'm here."

"I do, and I'll try to tell you everything that..."

The harsh screech of a detonation hit their ears just as the shock wave punched them backwards.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Arthur stammered.

They stared at each other, but no one answered the question.

Arthur ran for the window. He didn't want to believe it. Kharg's reach must be longer than he'd thought possible. The Khraga must be mad to launch an attack in the middle of a city populated by people who took pride in fighting Khraga in the wilderness. Here, with all the fortifications such an attack must be suicidal.

"Damn! That Khraga has got some guts," Arthur admitted loudly.

"Khraga? No Khraga would dare to attack Belgera. They'd die before they reached the walls, and as for jumping into the city itself the attempt would kill anyone not born human. Magecrafters of old made sure of that."

It had to be Kharg, or could the city have become besieged by the plainsmen? Suddenly uncertain Arthur searched Karia's eyes for support.

Karia shrugged in response. "You know, it could be some accident. You've seen too much fighting lately. Besides I don't know any kind of weapon making a sound like that, but I've seen the results of a careless magecrafter."

Two muted detonations followed by yet another close by answered the question for Arthur, and the unexpected chain of smaller explosions gave him an impossible solution to who the attacker was.

"Damn, that's people from home."

"Keen?"

"No, my home. That's the sound of modern weaponry, or rather the sound of missiles impacting. We have to find the others."

"What are you talking about?" Karia yelled over the sound of gunfire, but he followed Arthur all the same, and together they sprinted down the stairs, Arthur leading the way.

Bloody hell! Arthur thought. They must be really angry with my stunt to put on a show like this. Damn! I'd never believe the police to go this far when they found out where I went.

He shook his head as he ran. He should have known better. They'd been trigger-happy when they first found Otherworld. Why shouldn't they be now? Still, this was insane, even by military standards.

Arthur swore as he ran. He swore at himself. How could he have doubted the military would refrain from an opportunity to behave like the idiots they were. They were, after all, equipped with weapons to substitute their ineptitude at social skills.

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