City of Eyton: When the Boys are Away...

Posted on Mon Nov 8th, 2010 @ 5:52am by Captain T'mpest Michaels

1,438 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Structured Shoreleave - Marchwiel

ON

Helda and T'mpest cleaned up the small house and headed into the heart of the city. As it was too early for the archives to be open for visitors, Helda took T'mpest to a large open-air market to shop.

The market consisted of hundreds of stalls with white cloth for three of the walls and the roof. Often a table stood at the front with a display of goods for sale. Food, clothing, shoes, trinkets, all could be found if you knew where to look. Helda had obviously been here many times ash she navigated from one section to another, bartering for meat, vegetables, flour and other staples.

They left one section of the market and crossed a busy street to get to another. On the other side was a row of buildings with more permanent establishments. One in particular caught T'mpest's eye. It had a sword in the window.

"Helda, I'd like to go in there," T'mpest said, indicating the store. Not wanting to argue in the middle of the street, she dodged behind a wagon and walked into the store, hoping Helda would follow her.

An older man sat at a table polishing a long sword. "Good morning," T'mpest said. She reached into her bag and pulled out her dirk. "This belonged to my brother. What would you offer me for it?"

Helda's eyes grew wide. "Why on earth would you sell your brother's weapon? Does he know you have it?"

"He's dead," T'mpest lied. "I want to sell this and buy Zhutov a present. He prefers a different type of weapon."

Helda was skeptical, but she said nothing. Damia was an odd female. But, as she appeared to have trained under her village's wise woman, it was understandable.

The man looked the dirk over carefully. "What does your husband say to this?"

"My brother was a hunter. My husband prefers the sea. This is too unwieldy a weapon for gutting and skinning fish."

The man nodded in agreement. "I'll give you 20 shellah."

T'mpest had no idea what a shellah was, or what the value of the weapon, but she knew how to barter. She laughed once. "You must be mad. It's wroth 60 if it's worth anything."

"Sixty!" The man looked appalled. "It's not worth half that. But I will be generous as you're a female. 30, but that's my final offer."

"I am the only daughter of my father. I have three brothers. I have gone with them to the city on many an occasion. I know you are mistaken. It's worth twice what you offer, but for the sake of your gray hairs, I will accept 50." She caught a flicker of humor in the man's eyes. He was obviously an old pro at this game and was enjoying bartering with a female.

"Thirty eight," he countered gruffly.

T'mpest picked up the sword and ran a practiced hand over the blade. "It's made of good steel. The blade is sharp and the balance true. I will accept nothing less than 45. That, or I go elsewhere."

The man stood. "You do know your steel," he said. "You drive a hard bargain, but the blade is worth the price. 45 it is."

He gave her the money and another five for the sheath. T'mpest left the store with mixed emotions. She was sorry to lose her favorite weapon, but now she had the proper currency to buy books. That made her happy. "Helda, where is the nearest place to buy books?"

"Books? I did not take Zhutov for a reader."

"He was at sea for months at a time. Often he would go days with no catch in sight. Books helped him pass the time. He is particularly fond of history." The last part, at least, was true. Vladimir did like military history.

Again, Helda nodded, glad she and Retock had not moved north. Their customs were most odd. Imagine someone reading for the entertainment of it. "There is a place in the next block. I have not been inside, but they have books in the window."

"Excellent. We can go there, then I'll help you take our purchases back to the house before I go to the archives," T'mpest said as they walked down the street.

The bookstore was everything T'mpest hoped it to be. She first went to a section of fables and selected a book on tales of the seas. Then she picked several books of folk tales. She added a couple of general history books and one on philosophy. The archives would give her a real history of the planet, but here she could get a good feel for the culture and their beliefs. She finished with a book on the five sisters and other deities. Satisfied, she made her purchase, ignoring the surprised look of the proprietor. She persuaded him to sell her one of his handcarts so she wouldn’t' have to carry them.

Helda had long since given up pretending interest in what T'mpest was doing. She was sitting outside, pealing an orange when T'mpest found her. "Add your bags to mine and we'll take them back to your house. I want to surprise Zhutov when he gets back tonight."

On their way through the market, T'mpest purchased several luxury items. A bolt of soft brown wool, two of green cotton, one a heavy pant weight, another for summer wear. She added a thick quilt, spices and, finally, two bags of chocolates and mixed nuts. She pretended all this was to start a home with Zhutov. In reality T'mpest planned to leave all but the books and one bag of chocolate with Helda as a present.

The two women carefully put the supplies away and headed back out. Helda was looking tired so when they reached the archives, T'mpest insisted Helda go back to the house and take a nap. "I will spend the rest of the day looking through old manuscripts. I know my way back. I will return by nightfall," she assured the other woman. When Helda finally agreed, T'mpest watched her go, then walked inside to persuade the Elders that she needed to see the old records.

It wasn't as hard as she'd feared. The old man at the door had great respect for wise women. He showed T'mpest into a small room and brought in a stack of manuscripts. When he was satisfied T'mpest know what she was doing, he went back to his table in the front.

T'mpest spent several hours pouring through stack after stack of manuscripts, scrolls and registers. When she found something of particular interest, she slipped her tricorder out of her bag and scanned the pages. At other times she would write down names, dates and locations in a notepad she always carried with her. Time passed as she went as fast as she could to get through as much material as possible.

"This is the last stack of histories," the old man said and he set them on the table. "Your wise woman will never need all that you've seen today."

"True, T'mpest agreed. "But there are bits and pieces in many of the books she will find of great value. As they aren't all in the same book, I must needs look through them all."

The man shrugged and shuffled out of the room.

The light was growing dim when T'mpest finished scanning the last book. She slipped her tricorder into her underskirt and sat back with a sigh. If she had a week, she might be able to get enough information to satisfy her, but it was the best she could do for one day.

"Good," the old man said as he shuffled back into the room. "I'm late for dinner. I'm surprised your husband hasn't come looking for you by now."

T'mpest looked at the narrow window. He was right. She was late. "Oh, dear. He'll be angry with me for not having dinner on the table," she said, standing quickly and picking up her bag. "Thank you so much for all your help." She gave him a gold coin. "For your kindness, she said, smiling.

The man looked at it in first surprise, then pleasure. "Thank you," he said as he picked up the stack of manuscripts and took them to the back. He returned a minute later to escort her out the door and lock it behind them.

"Goodnight," she said as she pulled a cloak –- a new one she'd purchased that day – over her shoulders and hurried to Retock and Helda's house.

OFF

Lieutenant Commander T'mpest Michaels
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Ranger

Helda (NPC)

 

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