Turn 81

Having thoroughly examined the maps, Alais turns to the rest of the library. There are chronicles reciting the deeds of men of renown, records of harvests and catches and taxes, of births and deaths stretching back into bygone centuries, astronomical observations and mechanical theories and bestiaries, philosophical tomes and books of advice.
    What there do not seem to be are any overtly religious works, outside of a few inspirational biographies; perhaps they're stored by themselves?
    Looking up from his work at the sound of a cleared throat, he sees that the sky is growing dark, and it is time to return to the castle.

* * *

    "We will be fine here," the elf assures them dryly. "I believe our only danger to be dying of boredom. Assure Emmett that we will keep watch on our guards, as they do on us."
    "This trip had better be worth the effort of not starting an incident," the Zakharan gripes, shaking his head. "I clearly recall the last time I was so angry ... but we still need to discover what they have here that is worth shipping iron between spheres to get. That cannot be too soon for me."
    Although, it occurs to him, it may be the other way around. If the metal is rare enough that selling it here brings them particularly good profits, whatever they can export for sale elsewhere would be a bonus. Not their usual modus operandi, but....
    On the way back to the palace, he remembers to ask Pawl, "Your lord mentioned that other spelljammers are trading with someone named Durrell. Do you know who that is?"
    "Lord Durrell?" He seems surprised. "Of course. Most everyone knows *of* him, I think." He waves vaguely inland. "Long way from here. His family is very powerful. These past few years there have been rumors...."
    "What rumors?"
    "They get pretty strange. News isn't, well, not always reliable. But some say he's got a deal with the Deep King. But you say he's working with, er, people like you?"
    "So we have heard. Or rather, he is supposed to be trading with another company somewhat like ours. In fact, if our information is correct, he married a daughter to a member of the family that owns the other company." The response to that news, he thinks, could be interesting.
    "Could be," he shrugs. "I didn't hear nothing about that, but then I don't know too much about politics. F'I remember aright he'd a whole handful of girls. Have to do something with 'em, even if you're a lord, I suppose."
    "What rumors have *you* been hearing? Who is the Deep King?"
    "King of the dwarves. But they say he's been--Lord Durrell, I mean--buying all kinds of things, and the dwarves is the only ones he might get them from, though if it be he's got these other sources...." He shrugs. "And he's got a wizard now, or more than one. Way in the backcountry like that, who knows what kind of things go on? Would hardly be the first time some lord decided to strike out on his own. Not," he adds hastily, "that I'm saying he is. Just idle talk, is all it is."
    "He's been buying all kinds of things? Such as?" Ibn Fadil makes a mental note to (try to) find out from Alais what the magic here seems to be like.
    "Weapons, gems. Maybe magic things, too."
    Hmm ... gems for off-world iron? Magic things? All being acquired by some backcountry lordling? The Zakharan knows how his own caliph would react to that sort of thing; he suddenly sees a visit to the "High King" in their immediate future. Assuming Tesfaye does not decide to keep them to himself ... "If I had a suspicious mind, I would say all that does not bode well. Tell me about your High King, please."
    Pawl shrugs at the idea of boding. "Storms and wars, they come."
    As they converse on the way back to the castle, ibn Fadil learns that the king's name is Roald (the II) Daray; he is relatively young and has been four years on the throne. He has a couple of young children but no designated heir. This dynasty has been in place for roughly two centuries, although the system of High Kings dates back about twice that far.
    After dinner and assuring Lord Tesfaye that all is well, the visitors retire to their rooms. A wind has come up along with the storm Brunon noticed on its way, and it howls relentlessly around the castle walls all night. By morning six inches of new snow have fallen, drifting heavily in places, but the clouds are breaking up. The day promises to be windy and cold.
    Breakfast is served in the large hall, a buffet affair where guards and servants wander in and out, grabbing a bite between attending to their duties. The lord is nowhere to be seen, but as the visitors are finishing Erek bustles over to them with another man in tow. The latter is introduced as Luiz, His Lordship's tailor, and if the guests wish he will measure them for clothes more suited to the Rigolian climate.
    "Captain," the chamberlain addresses Val, "His Lordship wishes to inspect your ship this afternoon, if you would."
    After their fitting session, the group splits up for the day again. Alais returns to the library, this time looking for references to the Spelljammer in any of its possible guises, and also for information about what kind of magic is practiced on this world. On the former he finds nothing that can be certainly said to be evidence.
    For the latter, it seems that wizards here do not commingle much with ordinary society, preferring a solitary life in distant retreats or small communities of learning. Some of the most accomplished attach themselves to the courts of great lords, providing or withholding aid in their endeavors as the humor takes them. They are traditionally much concerned with the movements of the stars and other divinatory arts, and with elemental manipulations, although tales of necromancy are not unknown....
    While the young wizard pursues knowledge through the dusty books and scrolls, Val, ibn Fadil go out again to explore the marketplaces and look for items of trade and general interest before returning to conduct the lord on his tour of the _Distraction_. Poking in and out of shops and pausing at stalls, followed the while by a clearly bored guard, by noon they feel they have something of a grip on the local economy. There is certainly a market for fabrics and spices and possibly alcohol (though their beer is pretty darn good), while exotic furs and hides are to be had for the asking, as are ivory and some kinds of gems (amber among them), although others seem to be rare. There is also the matter of wood; some varieties, unfamiliar to the visitors, are employed here in place of metal. They may have properties the company could use to advantage. And Lord Tesfaye did mention their shipwrights; if last night's weather is anything like normal, as it seems to be, they must build very well.
    One large, clearly well-off place turns out to be a metalsmith. With prices averaging from five to ten times what similar items would cost elsewhere, it is clear why even guardsmen carry only daggers most of the time. Even bronze goods are considerably more expensive than any the three of them have seen. The _Distraction_ is not carrying much by way of metal goods outside of those necessary for repairs, but the few dozen swords, axes and so forth in her cargo would apparently fetch a handsome amount.
    Val also notices what he suspects to be thief-sign here and there around the city, though of course it uses a completely different "language" than the ones with which he is familiar.
    Having had his fill of the library the previous day, Yestin passes the morning with the off-duty guards at the castle. After some initial nervousness the men relax somewhat, and he spends most of the time answering questions, which seems to him a good beginning.
    Meanwhile, Brother Pham also wanders the city, alone but for his quiet guardian. The common people here are somewhat reserved, or perhaps it's only that he is so clearly a stranger. He has seen the great temple, and the smaller shrines that occupy small niches along some streets, decorated with carved wooden and ivory animals, and sometimes with impressive antlers, tusks, or skins. Occasionally he sees a passer-by pause in front of one of these with a gesture of respect.
    Late in the morning, walking through one of the city's markets, Pham is startled to find himself suddenly pulled to one side by a hand on his shoulder, but it is only his guard moving him out of the way--of someone important, he must assume, who is hurrying along the narrow way. The man glances at Pham in passing, and for a moment his eyes are wide in startled recognition as he sees the symbol of Hextor. No one else so far has shown the slightest sign of cognizance, and when Pham casually inquires later that day, his watchdog says he's never heard the name.
    Emmett meets up with Brunon and another of the guards at the stable, as arranged.
    "All right, friend Half-Man," the sergeant says, reasonably impressed with Emmett's facility, given his handicaps. They've given him a quiet horse. All three mounts are tall, sturdy creatures. Not speedy, but they look like they can handle the snow. "Whither shall we ride?"

    On the _Distraction_: "You know, this is *really* boring. Worse than being in space. I can't believe these people are so stupid."
    "Quite. What shall we play next?"
    "Dominoes?"
    "Very well."
    

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