Rejji sat silently with his back to Wendal’s stall for a long time. He mulled over Wendal’s words and sought to find an acceptable exception to the rule Wendal had stated. Surely there must be some condition under which an estate would give a slave freedom, he thought. He felt the pouch of gold coins that he had gotten from Wendal and wondered what price would make an estate break with tradition. His thoughts were interrupted by a customer at Wendal’s stall, the first Rejji had ever seen. Rejji looked up as the finely dressed woman started fondling a small gold statue that Wendal had on display.
“It is one of BaGrec’s works,” Wendal smiled.
“I recognized his style,” nodded the woman. “He was such a talented artisan.”
“Indeed he was,” agreed Wendal. “It is a shame that Khadora has lost such a fine man.”
“How much is it?” asked the woman.
“It is extremely rare,” commented Wendal. “While his style is distinctive, BaGrec tried something new with this piece. Notice the eyes.”
“Oh that is different,” responded the woman.
“Indeed,” smiled Wendal. “It was one of his last pieces. I believe he was trying to capture the sorrow of his lover. It resulted in a rather unique piece. I could make this collector’s piece yours for two thousand gold.”
The woman looked at Wendal with surprise and placed the statue down. “That is a great deal more than his other pieces,” reasoned the woman. “I have been buying his pieces for years so I should know. I think you will be holding this piece for a long time.”
“It is higher than his pieces have sold for in the past,” conceded Wendal, “but BaGrec is dead now. He will never create another masterpiece and the ones he has created will soar in value. There are only so many of them after all and people who have them will not want to part with them. I suspect this piece will be sold to a collector who will resell it for five times the purchase price.”
“Really?” quizzed the woman as she picked the statue back up. “It is a shame that he will not make any more.”
The woman examined the statue closely while Wendal busied himself with straightening other items in the stall that did not need his attention. He appeared totally disinterested in the woman and the decision she was making regarding the purchase.
“Would you consider fifteen hundred?” offered the woman.
Wendal looked up from his fussing and acted like he had just noticed that the woman was still at his stall. “Fifteen hundred leaves no appreciable profit for me,” he declared. “These items are extremely hard to come by and I should be selling it for much more than I am. Still,” he hesitated, “I will let you have it today for nineteen hundred. That is the best I can do.”
The woman hesitated only a minute and then nodded her head. “Will you take a note?” she asked.
“Certainly,” Wendal smiled. “It is preferable to handling large sums of gold.”
The woman smiled and prepared a piece of paper embossed with a clan symbol on it and wrote in the amount of the purchase. She handed the note to Wendal, who gently took the statue and placed it in a velvet pouch and handed it to the woman. She beamed as she took the pouch and strode off.
“I think she would have paid two thousand,” Rejji said as he stood up.
“Of course she would have,” agreed Wendal, “but she would have resented it. By giving her a slight discount, she is now thrilled with her purchase and will return here often. The best sale is not always the one that returns the most gold immediately. One should always make sure that the purchaser leaves happy. It is the good will that is spread to others about you that will bring you customers.”
“How much did you pay for it?” Rejji queried.
“Four hundred,” grinned Wendal.
“Wow!” exclaimed Rejji. “Do all merchants make that much profit?”
“No,” answered Wendal. “There are three type of merchants basically. Those like me who specialize in high priced items are one type. The items must be in short supply and must have high quality. Sales will be few but the profits will be large. I typically only make one or two sales a day. Some days I may spend my time here without a single customer.”
Wendal nodded to a passing customer and continued, “The low end merchants make very little on each sale, but they make sales all day long. They depend on great volume to earn their profit. The things they sell must be something that is needed by everyone and the competition will be fierce. Still those type of merchants can earn a decent wage.”
“What of the third type?” prodded Rejji.
“The ones in the middle,” Wendal said. “There is no easy way to define them. Typically they seek to sell products that are not rare and yet not required by the masses. It is a difficult range to thrive in unless you are able to control the supply of your items. This is the area that Brontos liked. He would bring back items from Fakara that while not rare, where only accessible to him and a few other traders. So, although the items might be plentiful, not every merchant had access to them. By releasing only as much as he wanted to, he was able to control the price and make a good profit. If many merchants decided to descend on Fakara and create competition for Brontos, then his profits would plummet.”
“So the teeth I sold him were not rare, but he could set the price on them because I sold only to him?” asked Rejji.
“Exactly,” nodded Wendal. “If you had been selling to many merchants, Brontos would not have been able to turn a fair profit on them. Of course when you made them no longer available, the teeth became rare and the price rose a great deal.”
“And if I was able to supply them again?” Rejji probed.
“That would depend on the quantity you offered for sale,” explained Wendal. “If you tried to sell a lot of them, the price would plummet. You must realize that while there are purchasers for the teeth, the number of purchasers is limited. You get a higher price when there are more purchasers than there are items to go around. The greater the imbalance, the greater the profit.”
“What things did Brontos come back with most of the time?” the Pikata slave asked.
“I was not real familiar with Brontos’s merchandise,” admitted Wendal. “He seldom came back with anything rare enough for me to purchase. I know he brought in some fine silk garments, carved woodcrafts, nuggets of a strange metal, and your teeth. He purchased mostly seeds and farming implements to take with him to Fakara.”
Rejji nodded and gazed up at the high sun and decided it was time for the midday meal. He opened the sack the inn had provided and inspected the contents. It was a decent meal of cured meat, cheese and bread. He started eating and felt eyes upon him. He looked up and saw Wendal watching him.
“I am sorry,” apologized Rejji. “Would you care for some?”
“Actually I would,” smiled Wendal. “It has been a long time since I had a fresh midday meal.”
Rejji offered the sack to Wendal. “Don’t you bring a meal with you everyday?” he asked.
“No,” Wendal replied. “I am here from sun up until sundown. If I take a break for a meal, I may miss a customer. It is easier to forego the meal.”
“Why not stop at an inn on your way here and get a bag to go?” inquired Rejji.
“It is a busy time for the inns,” replied Wendal. “The wait would be too long.”
“Do the rest of the merchants do this as well?” queried Rejji.
“Most do,” Wendal answered. “The permanent ones anyway. The transient merchants usually bring their own food.”
“Would the permanent merchants pay to have a meal brought to them?” quizzed Rejji.
“I imagine they would be most eager,” chuckled Wendal. “You certainly have a future if you ever figure out how to rid yourself of that slave tunic. I think most of the permanent merchants would not be adverse to paying an extra gold coin for the delivery service.”
Rejji grinned and stood facing the line of inns behind the first row of stalls. Wendal reached over and pressed three gold coins into Rejji’s hand.
“Try the Wine Press,” the merchant suggested. “They serve a decent meal for one gold and would probably offer a discount if you were to purchase a lot of meals.”
“How many do you think I could sell?” asked the Pikata slave.
“Start with fifty meals,” advised Wendal. “Offer them thirty gold, but be prepared to pay forty. If you sell them for two gold each, you will make from sixty to seventy gold for you efforts. That is a very tidy sum for a short time.”
Rejji grinned and headed straight for the Wine Press. He entered the common room and was immediately struck by how much fancier it was than the Inn of the Rose. The clientele sitting in the room also appeared to be more affluent. He felt awkward in his slave tunic, but he strode up to the innkeeper.
“I understand that you serve a decent meal for a fair price,” opened Rejji.
The old innkeeper squinted at the pin on Rejji’s tunic before answering, “Ah, a Bursar’s boy. We serve only fresh foods here and the price is one gold. Is your master staying with us? I don’t recall seeing him.”
“No, he is at the palace,” Rejji stated. “Would you be wiling to sell fifty bag meals for thirty in gold?”
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed as he studied Rejji. “And what would you do with fifty meals?” he asked.
“Feed the hungry,” Rejji grinned. “Actually I may need to have a hundred or two hundred, but fifty is all I want right now. If I need more I will come back.”
“Do you have gold?” the innkeeper inquired.
Rejji held up his pouch of coins and the innkeeper nodded.
“Forty gold would be fair,” the innkeeper stated.
“Thirty five would even be fairer,” smiled Rejji. “Your room is hardly full and I would be getting rid of a lot of food so you can prepare fresh food for the evening meal.”
The innkeeper shook his head and sighed, but he stuck out his hand for the coins. “I suppose you will want to borrow a cart to haul it?”
“If that does not cause you troubles,” nodded Rejji.
“Very well, lad,” the innkeeper said. “Go around back and fetch the cart. Bring it to the rear door and we will start handing out the bags.”
Rejji raced around the inn and found the cart alongside the stables. It was fairly dirty and Rejji took the time to secure a broom from the stables and clean it off. When he pushed it to the rear door of the inn, he could see the kitchen staff stuffing food into pillow sleeves. A kitchen girl started handing the sacks out to Rejji. The innkeeper walked out and watched.
“You will need to leave me ten gold as a deposit for the cart and pillow sleeves,” the innkeeper declared. “They must be returned.”
Rejji nodded and gave the man the coins. He grabbed the last few sacks and hurried off to the market stalls. From his previous day’s work, Rejji knew right where the permanent merchants were and he didn’t bother going to the ends of the rows.
The reaction of the merchants was very positive. There was no quibble over the two gold price and most of the merchants that Rejji went to bought a meal. Rejji knew there were around three hundred permanent merchants, but time would limit the number he could serve. He sold the meals as fast as he could without being abrupt. When the meals ran out, merchants down the row were calling to him to bring more.
Rejji returned twice to the Wine Press to reload the cart and by the time he emptied the third cart, the sun was declining. He returned to the inn and settled up with the innkeeper. He returned the cart to the side of the stable and walked to Wendal’s stall.
“How did you make out?” Wendal inquired.
“One hundred and fifty meals sold,” grinned Rejji. “I now have three hundred gold coins. If I get an earlier start tomorrow, maybe I will have enough to buy Mistake.”
“Perhaps,” frowned Wendal as he started to pack up his stall. “You have talent lad,” he smiled. “There are more lessons for you down the road though.”
“I will find a way,” promised Rejji. “I have to.”
Wendal remained silent as he packed his wares up. Rejji gazed around at the market and saw the figure in the black cloak again. The man was two rows away, but Rejji was sure that the man was watching him. He turned and asked Wendal if he had ever seen the man before, but when Rejji and Wendal looked, the man was gone.
“Your pouch is getting a little large to be hanging from your belt,” Wendal said. “Let me show you a trick.”
Wendal pulled out a knife and removed Rejji’s belt. Where the belt usually lay across Rejji’s tunic, Wendal cut a slit in the fabric. He bent down and retrieved two pouches from underneath his stall. He untied the drawstring on one and handed the other to Rejji.
“Put the bulk of your coins in that pouch,” instructed Wendal as he retrieved a needle from the inside of his own belt.
He cut the stitching on the cordless pouch and unraveled it. He took the strong thread from the stitching of the mutilated pouch and sewed one end of the drawstring to the inside of Rejji’s belt. The other end of the drawstring he tied to the pouch holding the bulk of Rejji’s gold. Lastly, he stuck the needle into the inside of Rejji’s belt and handed it to him.
“Let the large pouch ride inside your tunic,” Wendal explained. “Keep enough coins in your regular pouch so that you are seldom required to access the hidden one. I stuck the needle inside your belt. When you are back in your room, stitch up the ends of the cut that I made in your tunic so the tear doesn’t spread. Make sure the slit is large enough to pull your pouch through, but small enough to be hidden by your belt. When you get back to your estate and get some matching material, fashion some loops like mine to pass your belt through. That will keep your belt from sliding and revealing the hole in your tunic.”
Rejji thanked Wendal and strode back to the Inn of the Rose. He quietly sat where the innkeeper had preferred him to sit and waited. The service was prompt and Rejji smiled when he saw he was being served the same as everyone else. He ate quickly and silently and was relieved that the man in the black cloak had not shown up. He went upstairs and mended his tunic and went to bed.
Rejji woke early in anticipation of a profitable day. He whistled as he headed downstairs and found a plate of food and a bag meal waiting for him at his usual spot. Even the desire of the innkeeper to be rid of Rejji did not douse the excitement he was feeling as he hurriedly ate and left the inn. He was early enough that most merchants were still setting up as he strode towards Wendal’s stall. Several of the merchants he had sold meals to the day before waved to Rejji as he passed and the Pikata slave waved merrily back at them. Rejji thought he caught sight of the mysterious man in black again, but the arriving crowd milled between them and when Rejji looked again, he was gone.
Wendal was humming a merry tune when Rejji arrived and Rejji saw a rather large diamond going on display that had not been there the day before.
“That is large,” commented Rejji. “Where do you get these things? You are stuck here all day.”
“The market is only part of my business,” reflected Wendal. “After the sun descends I must meet with other traders to find merchandise to sell.”
“That does not leave you much time for other pursuits,” noted Rejji.
“This is what I want to do with my time,” smiled Wendal. “It is what I live for. Every time I make a good deal, I am blessed with a feeling of great satisfaction. I suspect you will come to know that feeling.”
“I did feel great yesterday,” nodded Rejji. “Today will be even better. I will start well before high sun this time and probably do twice as much business.”
It was not long after the stalls were all set up that a boy came down the row talking to each merchant.
“I am taking meal orders, Sirs,” the boy said. “Would you care to order a midday meal?”
Rejji stared, his eyes wide in surprise as Wendal asked, “ How much is the meal?”
“One gold, Sir,” the boy replied. “It will be fresh from the Wine Press and delivered around midday.”
Wendal looked at Rejji’s bag from the Inn of the Rose and said, “Yes, I think we will take one.”
The boy nodded and scampered off to the next stall.
“How can they do that?” Rejji blurted out. “That was my idea. They would never have thought about it if I hadn’t bought there yesterday.”
“Any inn you went to would have seized on the idea,” commented Wendal. “You forgot the rule of controlling the supply. In fact, I would not be surprised if tomorrow doesn’t bring other inns to compete for the meal business. It was a brilliant idea and I am surprised nobody thought of it earlier, but food is a common commodity and you remember what I told you about that yesterday.”
“Yes,” frowned Rejji. “High volume and low profits. Very competitive. Still I wish they had waited one more day. This is my last day here.”
“If they sell three hundred meals,” Wendal continued, “they will make ninety gold more than selling through you and the merchants will pay half the price. They will probably pay the boy two or three gold coins, which he will be thrilled to get. Everyone will be happy except you. There is a good lesson in this for you, Rejji. Learn to control your supply.”
Rejji was quiet and Wendal knew that the lad was saddened by losing the business that he had discovered. “I am sorry that you will be leaving,” Wendal stated. “I have come to enjoy your company. When will you be coming back to Khadoratung?”
“Probably never,” frowned Rejji. “It is most unusual for them to allow a slave to come on a trip like this. I think the Bursar wanted my company, but I doubt I will be working for him much longer. I suspect I will end up in the fields.”
“That is depressing,” Wendal stated. “To put you in the fields would be a waste of talent. I don’t think that will happen though.”
“Why not?” asked Rejji.
“Because you have too much talent, and someone will recognize that,” smiled Wendal. “You do not think like other people. That is your blessing. Lords don’t like to have slaves that are smarter than them either,” he grinned. “Somehow you will figure a way out of your dilemma. One last rule for you to remember. Never give up and never stop learning.”
“I wish I could be as positive as you,” commented Rejji. “I am going to spend some time browsing the market. Maybe it will take my mind off things.”
Wendal merely nodded as Rejji walked off and started to peruse the merchandise at the other stalls.
Rejji spent most of the day browsing. He looked at the type of stalls that he thought Brontos would supply and asked questions about the origins of some of the merchandise. After a few hours he was able to tell where most of the goods came from just by looking at them. Several times during the day, Rejji had the feeling of being watched. He always turned quickly, but he never did spot the mysterious stranger in black again.
As the sun descended, Rejji returned to Wendal’s stall and said his farewells. He then strode to the Inn of the Rose, had his final meal, and went to bed.
Rejji awoke to a pounding on his door. He slipped out of bed and opened the door to find the Bursar standing there. Rejji gathered his things and followed the Bursar outside where a huge wagon with four horses was waiting. Rejji recognized the traveling merchant’s wagon as the one he had seen at the estate the day he was sold.
“This is our ride home, lad,” Wicado said. “Climb up and let’s be on our way and then you can tell me how you fared in the market.”
Rejji took out his notes and explained what the row and stall numbers meant and what the prices were for each commodity that the Bursar had asked for. Rejji further explained his theory on the placement of the stalls and Wicado seemed genuinely interested. The merchant listened to Rejji’s tales but never spoke.
The trip to the Pikata estate took much longer than the barge trip had. They stopped each night and camped. Wicado and the merchant kept up a constant banter about the doings of the various clans, with the merchant asking questions and the Bursar gleefully providing the answers. Rejji was amazed at how much about the clans Wicado knew and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about.
Rejji did get to talk to Wicado some, particularly about Fakara and what was to become of Rejji, but the merchant and Rejji never spoke to each other. When they finally arrived back at the estate, the merchant and Wicado were good friends. Wicado climbed off the wagon and started to head into the mansion with Rejji and the merchant in tow. Suddenly, Wicado stopped.
“Rejji,” the Bursar said, “I have quite a bit to do today with reports and getting this merchant set up. Why don’t you go and greet your friends. I won’t need you for anything. Report to me in the morning.”
Rejji smiled and nodded and turned towards the clova flock to check up on Bakhai before going into the mansion. He was amazed to see how well the flock was doing. The clova were fat and healthy. He looked around the field and could not find Bakhai. Rymaka was not around either and Rejji wondered if there might be trouble. Then he remembered that Wicado had said he would speak to the Seneschal about Bakhai on the day they left for Khadoratung. He wondered if Bakhai might be in the stables as he had suggested.
Rejji was just about to leave the clova field when he heard a scream. He whirled towards the trees at the far end of the field and saw two soldiers wrestling with something brown. He heard the scream again and it sent chills down his spine. The scream was female and Rejji knew the voice. It was Mistake screaming and his mind flashed back to the conversation he had with her when she had proposed hiding out here during the day and escaping at night.
Rejji’s heart sank as he realized that he had returned too late from the capital and Mistake had decided to escape without him. He turned and ran towards the screams.