The Taleweaver
Verd

The train came to a staggering halt, waking Arthur from his uneasy slumber. He shuddered. Sleep had brought him another of the nightmares plaguing him the last half a year or so. By now he didn't even try to avoid sleeping. There was simply no escape, only a prolonged wait for the torment.

He stretched his limbs and looked outside, forcing himself to register his surroundings. They had stopped at what could at best be described as a train station. Rather than a proper platform he saw a paved road where people were milling around between carts and carriages.

Through the open windows he heard voices in the local language and the air was filled with the smell of horses and sweat. The sun had set and the scenery was lit by lamps and torches adding little light and just a bit too much smell.

Noticing that Harbend was no longer present he left the compartment. Resolve wavered and when he climbed out of the wagon he was once again immersed in his inner world of horrors, paying very little attention to the frantic chaos surrounding him.

Harbend paid a couple of the uniformed porters to haul Arthur's luggage onto a small wagon and then gave them directions for delivery. He'd jumped off the train before it stopped to ensure their entering the city as quickly as possible. The train station was brimming with people trying to sell their services to weary travelers, their numbers multiplied tenfold by passengers from the villages they had called on during the ride to Verd.

A man grabbed his arm. "Snacks, sir. Roast pork. Good for you after a long day."

Harbend shook him off. He didn't have the time at the moment. Later, maybe, at a decent place.

He neatly sidestepped anyone who tried to sell him food or small trinkets and began the task of making sure Arthur's goods were registered and delivered to the outworlders' independent warehouse. Harbend, along with all independent merchants as well as the smaller trading houses couldn't afford warehouses of his own.

It was at that time he learned that Arthur, alone of all outworlder traders, had brought no goods except what was contained in small crates rather than the oblong containers used to store metal.

Angrily he made his way back to the train only to find Arthur standing on the road totally oblivious to what was happening around him.

"Excuse me, sir. We have yet to find you lodging for the night." The words had the effect Harbend wanted and he led his disorientated client to their waiting carriage.

Arthur allowed himself to be dragged to an enclosed wagon, a wooden contraption with a multitude of leather straps connecting it to a pair of horses.

He smirked. It was clear that each step of his journey decreased the level of technology available, but keeping his thoughts to himself he climbed inside the wagon. To his surprise he found himself seated on comfortable, padded leather. When they started moving he learned that unlike the cart they rode earlier this wagon was equipped with decently efficient shock absorbers. Sitting inside the carriage he barely noticed when they passed through the outer gates.

The carriage stopped and he heard muted voices apparently coming to some form of agreement and then they continued. Here great lamps above them lit the streets with a warm, yellow light. As they rode on he was slightly surprised by the size of the city and the height of the stone houses flanking its streets.

People strolled along the sidewalks, some clad in garbs much like his own and some in clothes far more discreet. But for the ever-present noise of horses and wagons he could almost have believed himself in one of the holiday cities in central Europe where tourists flocked to enjoy living out history for a week or two. That and brightly uniformed soldiers strolling around in pairs or small groups, ugly weapons within easy reach.

They stopped again. The doors opened and Arthur stepped down a wooden block with carved stairs that must have been placed there but moments earlier. Harbend followed behind him and paid the driver.

"Sir Wallman, we have arrived at Two Worlds, the best hotel in the city," Harbend said weighing a pouch of coins in his hand.

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"It was renamed some years ago."

"I see."

Arthur gave the building an appraising look. It was a six stories monstrosity built of red granite and white marble. He felt as if confronted with an unusually failed replica of a city palace from imperial Vienna a thousand years earlier. Gaudy as a Martian palace in all it's pink, vulgar splendor.

He shook his head and doing so he saw his own reflection staring back at him from the inlaid mirrors in the grand wooden doors facing him.

"I thought you would feel more like home here, sir."

"Now, what the..." Suddenly aware of his own clothes and hairstyle he blushed slightly before fully enjoying the elaborate joke played on him and laughed loudly. "We're most definitely beginning to understand each other."

He walked to the doors, waited for them to open and remembered were he was. Just as he was about to push them open they were pulled inwards and a boy in silk livery the color of sun dried bricks raced out to pick up their bags.

Arthur entered. The hall was indeed as resplendent as the exterior suggested, with two great marble staircases curving up to the second floor and a huge, ostentatious chandelier providing most of the light. Statues, paintings and the occasional richly ornamented lamp cluttered the walls, and the sheer amount of massive stone kept it cool even in summer heat.

No one there except the uniformed guards who had opened the door.

The porter didn't return and Arthur assumed the rest of his luggage was carried in through some back door. Harbend passed to his right and climbed the stairs, and Arthur, not knowing what else to do, simply followed.

The hotel, after he awkwardly made peace with its gaudiness, turned out to be first class; his suite as luxurious as anything he'd experienced at home with the obvious technological implementations lacking. It more than made up for it with everything made from the finest natural materials he could imagine.

Arthur left Harbend in the living room and went in search of a bathroom. It welcomed him with the surprise of having running water. Peeling off his clammy clothes he realized just how sweaty they had become.

He spent a wonderful half an hour in a tub of hot water, a luxury unavailable for several months. Finally satisfied he got up and dried himself. With a feeling of relief he entered the bedroom, toweled body still steaming from the hot bath.

He hadn't brought a formal business suit and settled for a pair of green, knee length trousers, an orange bolero with tails and his best red silken shirt. Happy with the outfit he still suspected he'd better buy clothes here unless he wanted to draw too much attention to himself. The day wasn't over yet and with that knowledge lingering in his mind he resolutely threw the doors wide open and walked into the living room.

Harbend waited for him there, as did the crates, hoisted onto a large hardwood table and Arthur wondered how the porters had managed hauling them up the stairs.

It was probably time to convince Harbend to sell off the token trading goods contained in the crates. Paying Harbend a little extra for the trouble wouldn't hurt neither.

"Time for business?"

"If any," Harbend answered unhappily from the chair where he sat.

"I'll open the boxes so you can evaluate the worth of what I have to sell."

"Do so."

Arthur chose not to take note of the tension in Harbend's voice.

"Well, start with this one I think." Arthur leaned over the table and put a hand to the lock. The lid sprung open and revealed an uneven surface of brown leather.

Harbend rose and stepped closer. "What is it?"

"Books. I had some works converted into bound paper some years ago when I played with the thought of coming here the first time, but there never seemed to be time enough."

"Books?"

"Yes, I have dictionaries, works on grammar, etymology and other academic works in the field of linguistics."

"Excuse me, I fail to understand."

Arthur thought for a while before facing Harbend. "I have books where words are defined. I've also brought books explaining the rules and history of my language. On top of that there are a few works on our view of how languages work and develop within scope of the society they exist in."

Harbend was silent at first. "And all in paper?" A smile slowly spread over his face.

"Yes. I was told you had a written language. Taking into consideration your level of technology I assumed that pages or rolls of text would be easier to sell than the equipment we use at home."

"Indeed. It will bring a good price, far better than you think." There was nothing left of Harbend's sullen disappointment now.

Harbend brightened at the thought of selling this very first batch of written insight in how the outworlders thought. Almost reverently he picked up one of the volumes and caressed its smooth leather.

Slightly smaller in size than he was used to, less than two hands high and just about one hand wide. Title printed both on the cover as well as on the back.

He carefully opened it. The paper was dull but of very fine quality and the peculiar structure of the writing made him guess he was holding a catalog of words.

The cargo would bring a good price, probably better than the normal load of metal he'd initially expected to handle for his client. "And you have five crates full of this?" he asked, slowly letting out a long breath of air. Here was splendid profit waiting to be made.

"No," Arthur said opening another crate, "I thought I might need something more easily converted to money here to cover my expenses."

Harbend stared at the contents of the crate, mouth wide open. "What, what... Do you have any idea how much..."

"No, as a matter of fact I don't. I haven't had to think about money the last twenty years, and I wanted to make sure I brought enough valuables not to start now."

Harbend stared at the riches displayed before him. Bars of gold, silver and platinum neatly stacked between small cases he almost certainly knew were filled with jewelry, most probably sorted by either value or material. "You have brought enough to buy a large town including all farms supporting it."

"Oh, it doesn't represent such a fortune where I come from," Arthur answered silently.

Still cataloging the last of the merchandise Arthur finally noted that Harbend must have taken the opportunity to get washed and change clothes before coming back here. The generous mass of black hair was tied into a knot on the left side of his head and he wore a pair of dark blue silk trousers glittering with an almost metal sheen. A white linen shirt hiding under a crimson, waist length jacket, glimmering as if alive, completed the outfit.

I'd bloody better start to pay more attention to what's happening around me.

He forced himself to stay alert for a while longer. "Harbend, can you sell this?"

"Of course, even though I fail to understand your need for money."

"Because I'm supposed to be a trader. If I start spending loads of money here then I guess I should make a show of having earned it first."

Harbend smiled and bowed ever so slightly. "That is the spirit of a true merchant. Yes, I will help you get the best possible price for your books. They do represent a fortune after all," he finished, still caressing a leather bound volume in his hands.

Now there was a man mentally preparing for the negotiations to follow. Harbend probably enjoyed that part almost as much as the money involved. Arthur was well aware of the fact that no one had ever brought books here before, and that in itself ought to make it all the more interesting.

"I shall take a commission. Eh, one fifth?"

Arthur grinned happily. He'd played this game early in his career and been quite good at it. "One part of twenty."

"That is not a commission, and you know it. One sixth."

"Now, that's robbery. Sure, I need you translating for me, so I might accept one out of sixteen."

"One part in seven."

"One out of twelve, net only and you have an agreement."

Harbend's face clouded. "Now wait a moment. Gods! You are a cunning one. I shall be satisfied with one part of eight, and that does not cover what I am paying for your living."

Should I continue? No. I need a happy contact planet side. Arthur laughed and accepted the offer.

Harbend tried to look dismayed but they both knew the deal would still earn him a lot more than he usually did and he joined Arthur's laugh.

"I bid you a good night then. We have work to do tomorrow," Harbend said, bowed and left the room.

Alone again Arthur felt the weight of the hour. He carefully closed his crates and, stifling a yawn, entered his bedroom.

Arthur wandered through the corridors fruitlessly searching for a place serving breakfast. He'd all but given up when he recognized the youngster who'd taken his bags the day before. On the verge of asking for directions he remembered that any question would be as unintelligible as whatever answer he was provided with and decided to return to his rooms.

Harbend waited for him, wearing the same clothes as last night, but in addition he had donned a long robe, a blue as dark as night with traces of silver lining the edges. He held a soft, black hat in his hands.

"You're up early. I just had my morning meal, but seeing you returning here I assume you've had breakfast," Harbend said rising from the chair closest to the crates.

"As a matter of fact I haven't. I couldn't find the dining room."

"Dining room? This is not a tavern." Harbend frowned. "But excuse me. You must be starved. I shall arrange for your meal. There is still plenty of time." Harbend walked behind the table and pulled a rope Arthur hadn't noticed the night before. "A servant will come shortly. I shall order an assortment of different courses. Later you may make it known what you prefer."

Arthur said nothing and sat down on a couch close to the windows. There wasn't much he could do but wait, and the prospect of food kept him in eager apprehension.

In the morning, with sunlight flooding through the generously sized windows, the room took on an altogether different character. The marble and granite almost blended into each other, and where the dark furniture had seemed forbidding last night they were merely stout with a peculiar grace making them come alive. Thick carpets lay strategically placed wherever he would most likely have chosen to stand or walk.

Harbend gently tapped his shoulder and Arthur turned.

"The food is here. You should eat."

Arthur looked around. He'd been so preoccupied with his own thoughts he hadn't noticed anyone entering the room. And exiting, he realized. They were alone again, but a table closer to the bedroom was set with platters, bowls, jugs and bottles. A generous heap of bread and fruit sat in the center accompanied by meat and pies he'd normally have preferred far later in the day.

He sat down, eager to try the delicacies of the world. He'd never been afraid to try new cuisine and with great appetite ate his way through the choices available.

One platter with what he first thought was meat turned out to be some kind of pickled fish, a surprisingly fresh way to start the day. The bread mostly of a white type he knew from home, but a few slices were a dark brown, rich in taste and with small pieces of dried fruit sweetening it. No butter, but a wide variety of thick, spicy sauces functioned as tasty substitutes. Sausages a bit bland, some almost tasteless and he made a mental note to avoid them in the future. Milk, and what seemed to be yogurt tasted and smelled the way he expected.

Automatically searching for a pot that wasn't there he sorely missed something hot to replace the nonexistent coffee. He tried a bit of the weak wine but it was too early in morning for him to appreciate it, and he finished his meal by pocketing a couple of apples before rising from his chair.

He nodded happily to Harbend. "Thank you. Never start a day on an empty stomach, you know," Arthur said, feeling content.

Harbend gave the table an appraising look. By now he should know what fares to avoid. "Well, I guess we are on our way then," he said. "You need not worry about your crates. Porters are already sent for and I have marked the four I assume you want to bring."

"Ah, perfect. On our way then?"

They left the same way they had arrived the evening before.

A coach waited for them when they entered the street. Harbend must have taken care of that detail as well.

Harbend noted how Arthur hardly gave the shining streets a look before climbing their coach, and realized Arthur had once again sunken into the peculiar apathy he displayed from time to time.

Sighing, Harbend shrugged. Now he might become a lucky merchant. He'd managed to get over two parts of a hundredth more in commission than most did, and Arthur's cargo represented a substantially greater gross value than anything Harbend had seen an outworlder bring in earlier. Arthur might be a strange one, but if he was worth half again as much as any other trader, why bother?

He joined Arthur and they were on their way.

In early daylight one strange aspect of Verd became almost painfully clear, literally so. All streets as well as the foundations of most buildings shone as if an army of cleaners had gone over them with water and brushes the previous night. Still he knew nothing of the kind had happened, and he'd grown accustomed to the powerful, yet muted magic making this impossibility of a city work.

All the dirt and offal produced by far more than half a million people living here vanished nightly and reappeared on fields almost a day's ride from the city. It was the same with water. It just arrived, and the city cisterns were always full with clean water. By now he also accepted that the outworlders took most of it for granted, but at least the shining streets usually caught their attention.

They crossed a large square and he nudged Arthur to attention. Here was a sight worth seeing.

Arthur shook himself from his thoughts when he felt several tugs on his sleeve and looked up.

What now? Oh, oh.

A huge, open space crowded with birds, humans and wagons all on their separate business.

Now there's an opening shot. By God, what is that?

A dreamlike castle, not as overbearing as the hotel, but far, far larger. Rising, never ending, climbing on itself into heaven. Soaring as if alive.

A skyscraper, but beautiful. How the hell did they build that thing? It should fall in on itself.

Walls like silver and gold, supporting spires so thin they were balancing like a tightrope walker. Two great wings stretched sideways trying to embrace the square, and sunlight playing on their roofs, each reflection depicting a scene from myth or legend.

Give me a fly cam to the left and one right above us. Holo scanners need bloody fliers to ring it! Damn if I'm sure the scanners could take it all. It's so big, and it's changing. One episode, or two if I stretch it.

"What is that?" Arthur asked awestruck.

"That is Ming Hjil de Verd, loosely the emperor's Verd in your language."

Arthur nodded.

"Once it served as the imperial castle but today it serves the Council of Twelve."

"Your local administration?" Arthur asked without turning his attention from the view.

"Well, not mine," Harbend answered with a chuckle, "but yes, I guess you could call it that. In the left wing you will find the library, the largest in the known world containing almost half a million volumes of all kinds. It is the pride of Keen. Even those who work in other fields of fine art admit that."

Arthur sighed.

So beautiful. I didn't know a building could be alive like that.

The coach crossed the square, passing by peddlers and farmers selling their wares from carts; each salesman loudly announcing the excellence of what he or she had to offer, and some of them caring for the occasional customer. And there were children, hordes of children, walking, running, playing or being carried by parents.

He turned his attention to the castle again. The roofs covering the magnificent building weren't tiled but rather a continuation of the walls curving to cover the interior. As they neared the end of the square the wonder changed again, gold turning to glimmering red and all silver transforming into an ocean of blue. Then a cloud of flying pigeons obscured his sight and they were once again riding down a wide street.

"That was, that was beautiful!"

"There is some great magic in this place," Harbend agreed. "We are soon at our destination. I shall introduce you as my client. A chair is waiting for you. Please stay seated until I call you."

Arthur nodded.

"Each trader shall display a sample of their wares, one at a time and apart from the local merchants you saw when you first arrived there shall be others," Harbend continued, and Arthur nodded understanding again. "You, however should act as if you have brought all of your wares here as you have nothing stored elsewhere. Most of the local merchants present shall be agents representing houses who did not get a permit to represent one of you directly."

"Permit?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, you arrive sixteen at a time once every three eightdays and there are more merchants who want to represent one of you directly than that number."

"Uh um," Arthur said when Harbend fell silent and only the rumbling of the wheels disturbed the peace. "I'm familiar with your week being eight days long."

"Good," Harbend said approvingly. "One eightday before a group of your kind arrive there is a lottery held in the trade hall and sixteen names are drawn. Exceptions are made whenever one of you requests to be represented by someone special."

It made sense. Arthur knew only a couple of hundred traders made the journey here each year, and from what he had learned almost all participants involved in the business parted ways very satisfied with what they had gained.

Metal was scarcer here than in Terran space, or at least less available, but precious stones more plentiful. Simple things as clothes, weapons and art the traders brought back to Earth and sold for outrageous prices constituted another source for profit, yet another way to keep up the charade of adventuring gold diggers. In reality most of the Terran traders had to be spies waiting for the day Otherworld was ready for business on a scale the inhabitants here probably were unable to grasp.

The price Harbend indicated concerning the gold, silver and platinum came as a great surprise though. To Arthur that was proof the traders he paid for information were less than honest about how much extra they made from trading precious metals in addition to the more mundane metals that were the base for the trade. More than a little extra lining their pockets, he guessed, and why not. How else to convince anyone to accept the sometimes year long round trip time over and over again.

Memories of a different kind stirred in his mind. "You, know, on our way here I saw something that got me worried."

"Yes?"

I know you lack a lot we take for granted, but I didn't think you starved."

Harbend turned. "Starve? No that was a very long time ago. At least here. The midlands, Chach and Wherdin most often, is where you may see famine."

"Strange, I saw several people, mostly..." Arthur frowned. "No, all women with swollen stomachs."

Harbend laughed back. "All you first comers say the same thing. Pregnancy. You are familiar with the concept? Giving birth."

"But, but... oh," Arthur nodded to himself. Then the full horror struck him. "But that's..."

"Barbaric, yes I know you think so," Harbend filled in. "We do it the way the gods meant. Please accept that your way is foreign to us, foreign and awful. We grow vegetables the way you grow children."

Arthur shook his head. He should have known. Otherworld lacked the knowledge to save women from the atrocity of childbearing. Probably lacked the means to regenerate limbs lost to accidents as well. Arthur thought of other horrors anyone living here had to accept. Uninvited plans for several seasons worth of Otherworld Disclosed came to him, but that was another life, one he had given up.

Their coach stopped, and the doors opened. This time Arthur had time to see the back of the man bringing the wooden block of stairs. Arthur climbed out relieved one small mystery was explained. He stood still to make way for two middle-aged women occupied in agitated conversation before examining the building they'd arrived at. The wall and stairs facing him belonged to a construction far older than the hotel where he lived. It seemed to be taken care of with great love and the entire whitewashed facade was spotlessly clean. Just like the streets.

They entered and arrived in a great hall sparsely lit and somewhat gloomy. Windows much narrower than in his suite. Two chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and several lamps fastened to the walls added some light to the hall. The walls weren't painted. Age had worn them to a dark, brown tan as it had with the two rows of benches lining the walls on each side of him.

At the end of the hall Arthur saw several chairs of a much more recent date. He counted. Sixteen, of course.

The floor was separated into two sections with the one closest to the entrance a gray stone and the other wood so old it was worn to an almost papery white. Above the benches symbols wrought from metal covered the walls from the level of his height and almost all the way to the ceiling some six meters up.

The very air smelled of ancient history and he could almost taste the endless years of gatherings here. He wondered what it had been used for before space ships had disturbed their world.

Trade, understanding slowly told him. We're merely new trading partners to them. They must have conducted business here when slaves were brought to Rome in chains.

Almost reluctantly he was filled with respect for an ancient culture with its own splendor, the second reminder in just one morning.

"I guess we're early," he said when he found his voice again.

Harbend didn't answer. He just pointed at one of the chairs and chose a place on the right hand bench for himself.

Having nothing better to do Arthur went to the appointed chair hearing the sound of his steps change as he left stone behind him and entered wood. He sat down facing the entrance, and watched how in ones, twos and threes people entered the hall, a few coming for the chairs but most taking a seat on one of the two rows of benches.

As the hall filled, the noise of people talking to each other became louder, bouncing between the walls and making it all but impossible to pick out any single conversation. Only the traders from Earth were eerily silent, as if too busy taking in what was happening around them or too aware of being part of an exhibition, sitting as if on display like pieces in a museum. Now that's an amusing comparison.

When all sixteen chairs were taken, and with only a few places left on the benches, the noise subsided, and the men and women on the benches turning their faces to the entrance as if waiting for someone to enter. Eventually it turned out it wasn't someone but rather a group of four. All wore plain black robes, but with them standing there, light from the entrance in their backs he couldn't make out any more details.

Slowly striding further into the hall they became individuals with distinguishable features rather than dark silhouettes. To the leftmost a stocky, middle aged woman with streaks of gray in her hair, yellow jacket and white skirt hidden under her robes. Next an old man, still tall and unbent, almost bald with a long, white beard and yellow silk showing from time to time as his robes moved. Then two more women, twins Arthur guessed. They would have been in their early hundreds on Earth but he guessed they were at least fifty years younger with the level of medical knowledge available here.

When the quartet reached the center of the hall they halted, backs to each other so every person seated would face at least one of them.

The old man slowly spoke in the local tongue, so slowly and clearly Arthur picked up a word now and then. The merchants on the benches murmured in response and Arthur could hear from the cadence that it was a well rehearsed ceremony. It came to an end with four boys carrying chairs which they placed within a hands grasp of the group in the center of the hall, and each of them grabbed a chair and sat down, still facing in the same direction as before.

One of the twins bowed, clearly indicating one seated merchant, and Arthur saw a young man in red and blue rising to return the greeting. The man stood straight and started to speak: "William Anderson, you are called to display your wares," he said in broken English.

Arthur rose to let the lanky Martian pass while listening to the words being translated.

William wore a fluorescent, marine blue business suit with more than a touch of pink, always the pink of Mars.

Part of the wooden floor before them detracted and a system of elevators brought boxes to their sight.

William awkwardly entered the platform, heels loudly clicking against the floor, halted just before the boxes and bowed facing those sitting on the benches, ripples of blue slowly running over his suit like waves crashing on a pink beach never seen on the surface of Mars.

"What you see are samples of what I have. The warehouse of house de Khalinan contains the rest," he said.

Young de Khalinan nodded in response and translated. The old man in the center of the hall awarded him a question, and again the tone told Arthur it was all ceremony.

"What do the samples represent, and what quantities have you brought?" de Khalinan asked, still standing erect as if on parade.

William bowed and answered, "All measurements in standard Terran units. Tin, three tons. Iron, twenty tons. Copper, six tons. Beryllium, five hundred kilograms. Lead, two tons. Silver, seventy five kilograms. Gold, forty kilograms."

It was translated, a question added and immediately translated before anyone could answer.

"Does anyone want to start trading for these wares now?" the young, native merchant asked.

No one answered. A statement with a translation followed, "Then we of house de Khalinan welcome any of you during the eightday to follow."

De Khalinan sat down and Arthur once again had to make room as William returned to his seat.

And so it droned on for most of the morning. Arthur noticed that the more experienced traders were called first and realized he would probably be last.

He caught his breath and looked up. His right foot hurt. From his right William Anderson grinned. "Your call, rise," he whispered.

Arthur stood, toes aching where William had put down his heel. Arthur realized he must have fallen asleep halfway through the procedure. He saw his four crates and two boxes he didn't recognize on the platform and went there. He cleared his throat and met Harbend's amused stare. Harbend wasn't the only one. William's wakeup call hadn't passed unnoticed.

Damn if I'll be the show without running it! Arthur thought. Let's give them a taste. Back straight, an inkling of a bow and then my trademark, ironic gaze. Ah, they just had to meet it. Got them now. So apprehensive, just waiting for my message. That, dear Harbend, is how you grab the attention of your audience.

"What you see is what I have brought," Arthur said remembering there were no more wares waiting in a warehouse.

Harbend translated and a slow murmur of surprise spread along the benches. They must have expected the normal display of samples. Arthur used the time to open his crates and both boxes.

Ah, clever bastard, he thought after discovering the contents of them. He should have thought of bringing some of the precious metals himself, but luckily Harbend had done the thinking instead. Arthur counted the bars. Over half of it here.

"What wares have you brought, and what quantities?" Harbend asked from across the hall.

"All measurements in standard Terran units," Arthur said remembering how his fellow traders had answered. "Silver, two hundred kilograms. Gold, two hundred kilograms. Platinum fifty kilograms."

Harbend translated and some brows were raised before Arthur could continue. "Oxford Press, Oxford Dictionary Terran English, fifty volumes, current edition. Harlington Press, Terran English Grammar and Spelling, fifty volumes, current edition..." Surprised outcries drowned him, and Arthur was unable to hear himself and waited silently for the bedlam to abate.

It was obviously a breach of convention, but there had to be a first to everything, Arthur thought. Silence finally fell, and he was able to continue, this time until he finished declaring his goods, all in all some two thousand volumes.

Harbend winked at Arthur who finally grasped what was coming.

Oh hell, no! You bastard! he thought, but there was nothing he could do.

"Does anyone want to start trading for these wares now?" Harbend asked, voice breaking more than a little, apparently barely able to constrain himself from bursting out in guffaws.

All hell broke lose.

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