“But how do you know?” asked Isra.
“There are detailed maps available for the public to view,” said Alfric.
“And you viewed them,” said Isra. “And you remembered everything about them.”
“Well, yes,” said Alfric. “Not entirely, because Interim is one of the largest nations in the world, almost thirty thousand hexes not including all the oceanic territory, but I tried my best to remember everything about this general area.”
“Mmm,” said Isra.
“Did you want another civics lesson?” asked Alfric.
“No,” said Isra. “One a day is fine.”
Alfric couldn’t tell whether that was a joke or not.
Their long silence resumed.
“Say,” said Alfric. “Where are you from?”
“Not far from Pucklechurch,” replied Isra.
“I mean, where were you born?” he asked.
“Not far from Pucklechurch,” Isra replied a second time.
“Oh,” said Alfric. “I just meant… you have a light accent. And we don’t get many people with our color of skin in these parts.” His own skin was a shade darker than hers.
“My mother and father were from Tarbin,” said Isra. “They moved before I was born.”
“Tarbin,” said Alfric, nodding. “My own family is from North Tarbin, though we crossed the sea five hundred years ago.” There were relatively few nations left in the world, but North Tarbin had been holding on for a long time, and it was Tarbin they were holding off against.
“My father taught me about Tarbin, but that was years ago,” said Isra. “I haven’t spoken the language since he passed.”
Alfric didn’t speak any of the languages of North Tarbin. It was a point of pride among his family that they were as Inter as they came.
The silence descended again, this time like a thick and suffocating cloud, but as a small mercy, it wasn’t too long until they saw the hex boundary, and then Alfric could pretend that they weren’t talking because they were focused on getting there. If it were anyone else, Alfric would have filled the air with unimportant thoughts about Tarchwood.
The warp point at Tarchwood was larger than the one at Pucklechurch. It was fully enclosed, and it had an attendant, though she was sitting slumped in a chair when they entered and only reluctantly got up from her seat to usher them to the side. Alfric nonetheless thanked her and offered her a tip, but she didn’t seem to understand, and he sheepishly stuck the ring back in his pocket.
Tarchwood was built on the edge of one of the huge Proten Lakes, and the hex had ended up so that it was a short walk to the city proper, which had mostly clumped up by the lakeshore. There were a few taller buildings, though of course nothing like the enormous city of Dondrian or even a more residential area of Dondrian. Here, finally, there were people, lots of them, and though they didn’t have quite the numbers or variety that Alfric was used to, it was something that came close to home.
Isra moved at the same pace she’d used on the roads, but there was something wary and tentative in her movements, to say nothing of her face. Alfric thought she had the look of someone trying very hard to fit in and not show fear.
“I’ll take point,” he said. “I know the names of the shops and how to navigate a city.”
Isra nodded and seemed somewhat reassured that the only thing that would be asked of her would be to make sure he didn’t steal anything. He would have to be a fool to do that though, given what he knew her bow was capable of.
Tarchwood had more wooden structures than Alfric was used to and more than had been used in Pucklechurch. Dondrian had a fire some five hundred years prior, and wooden structures had been outlawed. Looking at the buildings, he couldn’t help but think about that and see the three- or four-story buildings as tinderboxes. Putting out fires had become a lot easier since that time, thanks to advances in both magic and coordination, but Alfric had always been more afraid of fire than other people seemed to be. Fires could also, of course, be undone, but Alfric found little comfort in that.
Not that there seemed to be much risk. It was a somewhat wet day, and the air was damp against his skin, as though it had just finished raining moments ago.
“Here, I think this is a likely place,” said Alfric when they came to a small shop. The sign professed that the store had many things, among them novelties and henlings. “We’ll see what we can get for what we have.”
The owner of the shop was a tall man with large ears who eyed them as they came in, particularly Alfric. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“We’re dungeoneers looking to make a sale,” said Alfric. “We have a large number of books and hope to sell them as a lot.”
“And the contents?” asked the big-eared man. He was looking back and forth between the two of them.
Alfric shrugged. “We don’t know. From what I saw, it seems to be a mix, but I’m not sure.”
The big-eared man sighed. “Then you’re just starting out?”
“Yes,” said Alfric, frowning. “Sorry if there’s something I’m missing here.”
“How many do you have?” he asked.
“Six hundred,” Alfric replied.
“All right,” nodded the shopkeeper. He held out a hand. “Mergan,” he said. Alfric might have guessed that: the sign outside had said ‘Mergan’s Emporium’.
“Alfric,” Alfric replied. He nodded to Isra. “This is Isra.”
“Where is your party stationed out of?” asked Mergan.
“Pucklechurch, for now,” said Alfric.
Mergan nodded. “So there’s a good chance that you’ll be dealing with me on a somewhat regular basis, unless you end up more west. Well, the thing you need to know about books is that their worth depends largely on what’s inside them. There are entads for translation, and I have one, but the market is pretty small, mostly made up of specialists and hobbyists. Six hundred books might make you a fortune, if they’re the right ones, or they might only be good for washing the pages clean and writing something else there. With six hundred, that would still make you a good amount, but there’s no one in Tarchwood who does that work, which means that if I bought them, I would have to ship them off to somewhere else. Beyond that, I’d be the one taking a risk, so your price would be quite a bit lower. Now, I’m always looking for up-and-comers, and I hope we can have a relationship of some kind. I’m also hoping that if I do right by you, you do right by me. If we don’t get along, there’s another shop in Tarchwood that deals with dungeon things, though they’re more on the entad side, or you could go the other way, to Liberfell, which has its own buyers. All right?”
Alfric nodded. He appreciated the forthright information. “I’m more used to how things are done in Dondrian,” he said. “So any guidance you can give would be more than welcome.” From experience, he knew that some people would sit through a talk like that trying to keep themselves from sighing with boredom, but he had always been an eager sponge, appreciative of others sharing what they knew.
“Dondrian,” said Mergan, shaking his head. “I’d thought you might, given your manner and the darkness of your skin.” It was common there, a third of the population, almost all of them originally from North Tarbin a long time ago. Mergan glanced at Isra. “The both of you? Siblings?”
Alfric looked at Isra. His skin was darker than hers and their features quite distinct, but he could see how someone might think that. Most of the people in this particular province of Interim were light-skinned, with a somewhat sizable contingent from Kiromo, and to them, he and Isra might have seemed similar.