Chapter Two: The Business Of Trade

The docks were least busy during the early mornings when most traders were setting up. Compared to the chaos of the afternoons when ships were pulling in and people took it upon themselves to loiter about, it seemed less chaotic than it really was.

“Your grandfather wants you to court a mage,” he said as they passed a stall where a man was calming a rattling cage of wild geese. It hadn’t been a question, but Telvine nodded.

“Mages are paid a lot,” she said. “If I marry a mage, then I won’t have to become a peddler like my parents.”

Kilvic nodded.

Peddlers were merchants too. But while those that held the richer part of the trade were the one popularly known by the title, those who’d failed to make it big and barely made enough to take a few weeks off to rest where referred to as peddlers. Amongst the latter, the more popular ones were known to move from place to place.

Kilvic gave a casual shrug. “You know entry into the Academy is free, all you need is a recommendation from a certified mage. Or you can simply show up and prove your skill. If you save enough, you’ll probably have enough to survive a semester.”

“Thank you.”

He shrugged her gratitude because he knew it was false; another demand of courtesy. “The Malfrax shouldn’t stop you,” he pointed out after a while. “I’ve had it a few times before.”

This stopped Telvine in her tracks and he was forced to stop with her even though he knew exactly where to find Tut. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“How many times have you had it?” she asked, shock scratching at her face.

Kilvic thought a moment before answering, though he didn’t need to. “Twice, that I’m aware of.”

“How old were you?”

“Once when I was eleven.” Although that had been under special circumstances, he thought best not to add the piece of information.

“And the other?”

He could see the hope in the girl’s eyes. “My mother,” he said, “told me I also had it when I was much younger.”

“How much younger?”

“Young enough to have it,” he answered then turned the subject simply. “I don’t want to miss the boat, Telvine.”

As if just remembering the purpose of their trip wasn’t to get well acquainted with each other, she fell into step at a quicker pace.

Kilvic had no problem following.

He found it confusing how things so petty could cause so much problem. Malfrax had a simple remedy. It might take a while to get rid of it without the use of potions, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be remedied. All it did was make it painful to access the gifts of being a mage. If it was as bad for everyone as it had been for him, then it meant using their gifts would only bring them pain. But that was the remedy; continued use. But not the kind everyone wanted. Light a candle, pick out a card from a deck, move a coin a few inches. Parlor tricks, at least that’s what his grandmother had called it when she’d found him doing them, but it was the solution.

He shrugged the thought away as they approached a tall man with grey hair that fell to rest on his shoulder. Although he stood with his back to them, there was no mistaking old Tut. Although, why people at the harbor called him old was knowledge Kilvic didn’t have.

The man turned just before Telvine tapped him.

“Ah, little Tel.” The man shot her a cheerful smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you finally agreed to run away with me?”

Kilvic snorted a withheld laugh. A joke, he told himself, his hand covering his mouth while Telvine’s face turned a shade red.

“No, sir,” she answered, smiling. “Just here to help business.”

“Ah,” Tut scratched the stubbles that covered his chin, “so this is more like an assurance of a one-day consideration. A someday, if you will.”

Kilvic took the time to study the man. His height was easily that of his grandfather’s, although he was significantly more muscled. His face showed signs of significant age; a weathered skin, wrinkles around rheumy eyes and a fore head held in a constant crease. While all these were significant signs of age, Kilvic estimated he was most likely ten years younger than he looked. Twenty years younger than the only male human presently at castle Grey.

“So,” Tut spoke again, after Telvine’s response which Kilvic hadn’t heard, “you said something about business.”

“Yes.” Telvine turned to present Kilvic. “Grandpa asked me to bring him to you.”

Tut scratched his chin again as he studied Kilvic. “You’ve enough muscles on you, boy. I could use the help. Although,” he leaned in, cocking his head to the side, “I don’t think you’re here for a job.” Convinced with whatever ran around in his head, Tut stood straight, leaving Kilvic to tilt his head back slightly to meet his gaze. “Where would you be going?”

“Zeldric.”

“Oho! Zeldric, you say. Any port you’d prefer I drop you off at?”

“Novdrag.”

Tut’s lids narrowed. “Novdrag?”

Kilvic nodded. “Would that be a problem?”

“Not at all.” The man shook his head. “Is just that, usually, people tend to offer to work their pay aboard my ship. Now I could just drop you at one of the ports near the kingdom, or better yet, I could show you how to get there by land.” Here he ran a worried hand through his grey hair. “But to go into the heart of the kingdom costs more than if you stopped at one of the cities and took a predefined route. No offense.”

Kilvic noted how the man had added the last part for the sake of being polite. He didn’t blame the man for reaching his conclusion. Anyone would, considering what he was wearing.

Though they were not the clothes to be expected of a peasant, they were commoner’s clothes, and commoners didn’t so easily travel between kingdoms. According to his mother, he was a commoner somewhere between the son of a drunk and the son of a stable master, which was the most respectable job a commoner of the lower caste commonly held. That said, he saw the man’s worry, so he placated it.

“I can pay.”

He watched disbelief pass the man’s face, then confusion when he realized he wasn’t joking, then—which he suspected was the man wondering if he was lying—suspicion, then cautious acceptance. So many expressions within the space of a breath. Not as much as his grandmother, but it was definitely enough to be considered a lot. Perhaps I could paint a castle with his.

“And how would you come by such money, boy?”

Telvine turned to the man in outrage. “Tut!”

Kilvic gave a glad nod at her outrage in his stead before giving an answer, nonetheless. “I am a boy who’s left his fifteenth birthday a few months behind him,” he said, meeting the man’s stare with his own. “Now, I could explain to you how I’ve saved up money most of my life because it’s always been my dream to go to the capital.” The man’s expression softened and he went on. “Or I could tell you of how my widowed mother sacrificed to save up money because she knew it has always been my dream to enroll in the Academy of my father’s kingdom.” Now he saw confusion on the man’s face, uncertainty. “Or I could tell you how I’ve spent the better part of one year waylaying unsuspecting victims and picking pocket.” Now he saw incredulity. “That said, I’ll settle for the truth.” And just as Ariadne had taught him when facing down a bigger prey than he was when it threatened to claim his kill, he steeled his gaze, let his brows settle closer together, and gave the man a look that had once made the kind Lady Jenis take a step away from her grandson, then said, “How I have the money is none of your business.”

Now everything banked on the old man’s response, and not that of the girl who stood to the side looking at him with fear.

His mother’s accountant had once told him that negotiations were a game of push and pull. However, as a child some men would think to treat him as one. When that happened, it ceased being a game of push and pull and he was permitted to shove, because when a man ignores the conversation of business to stroll unto a business that was not his, then it was a disrespect to the business at hand as well as his person.

Or at least that was what he had learned in his years amongst human trade.

After what seemed a long time, Tut gave a nod. “Fair enough,” he replied, a contemplative look on his face. “I’ll also say another truth in there is the fact that you are headed to the academy.” Then turning around without as much as a farewell to Telvine, he added over his shoulder. “The fee is ten gold coins.”

Telvine gasped beside Kilvic, jostled from whatever fear had held her.

“You will receive two square meals for the duration of the trip,” Tut continued, ignoring her, “and seeing as I don’t like the looks and smell of you, you’ll remain below deck for its duration as well. The boat’s this way, and I’ll be your captain.”

Kilvic gave his escort a friendly nod. “Become a mage,” he said, then followed after the captain, his mother’s accountant’s words echoing in his head: Every business man is a liar, and the first price to ever leave his lips is a lie. And when you are forced to shove during a deal with a man older than you, he will seek to oppress you with his trade. Don’t let him. Unless you absolutely have to.

“I’ll give you six gold coins,” he told Tut as he caught up, the standard fee for such travels. “And except it causes an obvious problem, I’ll come on deck whenever I feel the need.”

Tut barked an entertained laugh. “Eight gold coins and three square meals, and you stay below deck.”

“Seven. Two meals. And I go on deck whenever I feel the need.”

The man stopped to regard him, then offered his hand. “Deal.”

Kilvic took his hand, hoping handshakes weren’t going to be a constant occurrence even within the academy. “Deal.”

“Good.” Tut retrieved his hand. “Now, have you ever been on a boat before?”

Kilvic shook his head. “No. But I’m a quick learn.”

Tut laughed again, this time it was honest and it was amused. “Oh, kid.” He wiped his eye. “Not for this one you’re not.”