I’m Gonna Pop Some Tags
I could not, in good conscience, spend it all. I thought about it. Couldn’t do it. Jakeli’s purse had forty gold coins in it, bringing the sum total to sixty-five unals. That is not to say I did not entertain the idea. What is a man supposed to do when he gets a year’s worth of money in a day? Spend it of course. And so I did, if only to entertain the idea.
Briefly, as I sat beside Lenra on our way to the market, I thought about the castle. It was a castle indeed, but a small one. According to Litoc, there would have at least been fifteen reigns, so it was not unreasonable to think the kingdom existed for four to five hundred years. The size of the castle made didn’t seem to indicate that.
From what I could tell, there were only two, functional storeys. There was probably an attic, or attics, and ways to get to the roof in case of an attack or repairs but it would be in certain places only.
There was no moat. My limited knowledge of castles trained me to expect moats and drawbridges and I must say that finding a ditch instead of a moat was underwhelming. The castle stood on slightly higher ground than its surroundings however, so it had that going, at least. The walls were about two storeys high but the slope of the land made it look like the castle itself had more floors than it had from the outside.
Outside, the land was noticeably bare. I had expected to see houses and people but there was none. The land, it seemed, was stripped of trees on purpose to make way for farming crops. The lack of houses indicated that the farmers were in fact, living inside the castle as well.
When we reached the first signs of habitation some time after, Jibel’s questions began and Cheki resumed his role as tour guide. They would be continuing this back and forth the entire trip and credit where credit is due, Cheki held up to the never-ending barrage of questions, even the mundane ones. Bira would have loved this, I thought as I started to tune out their conversation in favor of my own internal one.
First were clothes. What should I get? How many should I get? If I were to judge it by Litoc’s interaction with the trader we met on the road during the start of our chase, a new set of reasonable quality would be in the vicinity of a gold coin.
Shoes? That would cost even more. But, at least, I only had to buy them once and might last for a while. The thing was, I had no idea how small Bira’s feet were, and they were at the age where it wasn’t uncommon for them to grow overnight.
My head was spinning trying to calculate just how much I’d be spending for each of the kids that I abandoned the train of thought. Instead, I thought of building a house.
How far would sixty-five gold take me? A small house with half the walls put up? Judging by the going rates of porters at Osea, it wouldn’t have taken me far. So, I abandoned that too.
I was just starting to think what Hanni would like. She wouldn’t ask for anything, I was sure of that. So, I had to get her something. But I didn’t know what to get her. She seemed to like weapons, but there wouldn’t be any weapon in any corner of the kingdom better than what she already had.
“Lenra, which market will you be taking us?”
“To the big one Lord, in the junction between Castleward and the old district.”
I nodded, like I knew what he was talking about. Litoc’s description of the King’s plaza indicated that it was where three main roads met.
“Where are the other big markets and can we reach them by midmorning?”
“Cleartown’s on the other side, we won’t make it there by then. Five Arches… Two Mires… no Lord. None of them can be reached by midmorning.?”
“Listen, and please stop calling me lord, for our safety, call me Jorj.” I waited until he confirmed with a nod, “I am looking for a place to buy clothing for children. They don’t have to be expensive or new. In fact, I want them as cheap as possible but in good condition, enough to last a while. Plus, maybe, some clothing for adults. And I still want to hit the big market on our way back to the castle after noon. Is that possible?”
Lenra considered my request and did not speak for a while. Behind, Jibel and Cheki were still at it. I could hear Fletching’s hooves from behind us where Hanni trailed.
“We can do that, ha. But it’s not,” he trailed, “pretty.”
“Where’s this?”
“The Mucks lo- Jorj. Oldest market in Osmouth.”
I agreed. Lenra took the next left turn. As we made our way, huts gave way into houses. The farther we went, the more concentrated they became. Others had second levels, mostly however, the houses were built longer or wider instead of higher with about four or five feet of distance between them.
As I’ve come to expect of any market, the smell became stronger as we drew nearer. The name, for once, gave it justice. There was mud everywhere. Stall and shop owners alike dumped their dirty water, into the street itself. There was no way anyone could pass through this way without getting mud on their person. And that was just the main street.
The Mucks, I heard Cheki explain, used to be the largest market in Osmouth. As the capital grew, and other marketplaces sprung up, larger merchants abandoned the place and plied their trades in the newer ones. The Mucks was where merchant and traders, primarily from the west sold their goods, Cleartown’s market handled those from the north, and Five Arches’ handled goods from the east and south.
The practice has dwindled when Queen’s Way, now the largest market in Osmouth, was set up three reigns ago. Although the old markets still existed, merchants opted to go directly to the new site in hopes of faring better. Of all the older marketplaces, The Muck was in the sorriest state and The Arrow, the market at Five arches, named for its straight stretch of road, seemed to be doing the best.
I wonder if Antep has anything to do with that.
Lenra halted the wagon and pointed us to the back of store. The Mucks had a curious arrangement, I found. The action didn’t happen on the main streets but behind. There was a square accessible behind all the stalls and shops along any of the four streets that surrounded it.
The square was just as muddy, and almost devoid of people. Not even Osea’s market was this bare. Tracks on the mud told me there was heavier traffic earlier that morning. It will probably increase again before nightfall.
It did not take long to find what I was looking for. Something I always found puzzling as I went traveling in my old life, was how shops, selling the same things, stood beside each other, and still somehow thrive. There was a row of them here, clothes of different sizes stacked in piles, on the floor, on benches, and on tables.
On our approach, the shopkeepers waved me over to their small shops, each declaiming how their goods were better than the other. The loudest of the shopkeepers, claiming to have the best goods, charged nine olmas for a shirt that would fit bira, and eight for trousers. I moved to the next shop.
As soon as I did, the shopkeepers immediately went into a bidding war against each other, not even thinking twice about calling each other names and belittling the quality of each other’s goods. It was both fun to watch, and annoying to listen to at the same time.
There’s a con in here somewhere.
The quality, for lack of a better term, was shit. The fabrics ranged from dirty white to grey and none of them even had uniform colors. They were thick, but thick in a way that it felt coarse in some places while markedly thinner in others. Some of them were new, but you could tell it was from inferior stock. It was time to channel Litoc.
I declined Jibel’s offer as he tried to hand me a small bundle containing the coins Juwen had given him, which had five gold. The price was not eight and six. I opened pouch on my belt, paused, then closed it again. Then, I took one last look at the item I was checking, gave the whole row of shops a sweep, pursed my lips, and pretended to walk away.
It took us walking towards the center of the square where spice and produce were being sold, before one of the shopkeepers came after me. Then, it was all seven of them. I let them at each other until they started lowering their prices even more. The price snagged at six and four and at that point they resorted to name calling again.
So that’s how it works.
“Three and two.” I stated, looking the closest shopkeeper straight in the eye.
He ran the numbers in his head then looked at another shopkeeper with a confused expression. Another cried out.
“Five and three. Best price in the whole market!”
“I’ll pay no more than six for a set. And I’ll take four. Add two for the next size, I’ll take four as well. And so on for the next one.”
They looked dumfounded, each running numbers in his head. They started arguing again, no name calling this time.
“Ninety-six,” Jibel muttered, “six draks.”
They all looked at the child for a second before another shopkeeper yelled.
“Seven esterises for the lot!”
I didn’t know if I was doing it properly, but I proceeded by increasing the price.
“Seven if you keep the same offer for this child,” I placed my hand on Jibel’s head, “eight if you let me and my companion here have three sets each. We pick. And you throw in the sack for free.”
Money speaks and gold was gold. At the prospect of two gold coins in the morning, the loudest shopkeeper called us to follow him to his shop before the others could speak. I was feeling pretty good about that deal. I felt like I was back at the Spice Souk successfully finding the cheapest Saffron after half a day of looking.
Is this how it feels to constantly haggling?
The feeling didn’t last long. Halfway into it, it became apparent that the shopkeeper didn’t have all that we needed. At this point, he started asking the other shopkeepers if they had what we were looking for. The others who already knew what we were getting, handed what they had over to fill our purchase. Whether they were just paid workers or they all collectively ran the business, it wasn’t clear. What was clear was they were all in on it.
Bastards.
There were no good shoes or sandals in the square, so we left. Litoc would probably have laughed at me. I kept thinking about it as we made our way to the Queen’s Way. The offer of six for a set would probably have been a loss if it were new, regardless of the quality of the fabric. The profit would have been made on the next sets all the way up to Hanni’s and mine. It wasn’t all new.
The mix of new and used garments didn’t help me with getting a ballpark number. I felt cheated. After all that bluster, they still got me. I resorted to comparing that to the prices in Osea but it didn’t help. By this point I could not even hold numbers in my head for long anymore. I felt cheated and it was a lousy, lousy feeling.
A feeling that persisted until we got to The Queen’s Way.