Chapter 6

Peter entered the back door of the workshop. He made his way to the storeroom where he’d heard activity and discovered young Stren sorting and racking metal rods and pipes from an armload Klup was holding. Despite being a well-built young man, the sixteen-year-old was wisely using the much-stronger troll to do the bulk of the heavy lifting.

“Good morning, young Hammson ... Good morning, Klup,” he said politely.

The shy boy simply nodded while Klup showed a toothy smile and grunted. Peter paused a moment to watch the two work and to verify that his order had been fulfilled correctly by Gerston. From the amount of new material already in the rack, the stowing of his order was almost complete. He also noted that the older teenager looked even stronger than he’d last remembered, filling out just like his dad with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. Of course, Tevi would be interested in making a man out of the lad.

Peter realized that he had better soon begin looking for a craftsman off-island for the young man to apprentice under. There was only so much work to do here on the island and Peter knew that nothing good came from boredom. At the same time, he knew that Hamm was getting older and would miss the help. Stren’s father would see the logic of having his son go off to become an apprentice, but was also too proud to admit that he sometimes needed the help the lad provided here on the island.

Maybe a swap would work? Peter could look for a master tradesman with an excess of younger sons. An offer to indenture one of them here on the island where he could learn while helping Hamm could be made. Such a trade could eliminate or drastically lower the apprentice fee Peter would in turn have to pay for Stren. Hell, he needed two; a brother and sister pair would be an ideal replacement for Stren and poor little Rosie.

After verifying that the metals already stowed were correct and that they were being sorted properly, Peter made his way out into the sunny front yard where he had heard the adults talking. Gerston, Neverlate, and Hamm were standing around the back of the dwarf’s heavy cargo wagon eating sausages and Jaciee’s buns. A large open clay jug of ale was being passed between them.

Peter’s villein noticed his approach. “Milord!” Hamm said, before knuckling his brow in deference.

The others turned and nodded respectfully.

“Good morning, Gentlemen,” he said, walking around the front of the wagon to get to the side exposed to the sun. He moved carefully around Gerston’s team of short, stocky, naroxen. As he did so, the blind-but-magical beast’s jackass-like ears swiveled to track him. He also heard the high-pitched clicks the beasts used to echo locate and follow him.

Beautiful winter day, is it not?” He commented as he shook their hands in turn.

They agreed that it was and Peter noted that the ferry operator Neverlate, being an old seaman, looked to the sky reflexively to gauge the weather.

“Lord Bent,” Gerston said, after swallowing the last of his bun. “I take it that you’ve inspected the delivery the lad and the she-troll are currently racking in your storeroom?”

“Yes, I have,” he replied. “Everything looks agreeable. The copper pipe seems very well made.”

He’d said the last while pointing to another dozen long sticks of pipe still in the wagon.

“Aye!” Gerston replied, nodding eagerly and fingering one of the smaller copper pipes. “I think me’lads have finally perfected the art of using the fine steel draw mandrels you supplied us last season.”

“How are they holding up?” Peter asked.

He hoped that the valuable parts had not all been broken or worn out. Bringing the precision machined tool-steel assemblies through the rift from Earth had been very costly in terms of his life essence and he hoped to avoid having to repeat that venture again for as long as possible. Still, he now had a working hot-water shower as the result of the effort and that alone would have been worth it.

“Very well, Lord Bent. Two sets of mandrels were broken early on before me’lads learned the knack of working the water rams. But since those mishaps, all has gone well. I would guess we’ve drawn over a thousand yards of copper tubings and three times that of wire.”

“And the dies?” Peter asked.

He remembered that the dwarves intended to begin using the wire-pulling dies on steel as copper wire had less purpose on this world where all free electricity was drawn to the planet’s core by magic.

“Working perfectly, Lord Bent,” The dwarf replied with clear pride. “Aye, three thousand yards at least so far, two of that quarter-nail sized in steel!”

If the dwarfs were now able to easily produce steel wire in bulk, life in Kreven would soon change. Peter had already shown them how to clip the wire into short, sharp-ended pieces and weave the barbs between two long, twisted strands. Pasturing livestock would soon be easier and more productive using the new easily-moved fencing.

The dwarf pointed to two small wooden kegs, “The heading dies also are working well. There be your hardened wire nails ... shake-sized and even the bigger sizes you requested.”

The kegs would spare Hamm hours at the forge making traditional square-cut nails. They paused while Stren and Klup returned for another armload of pipe. The dwarf and Hamm assisted with the unloading and soon the she-troll’s arms were filled to capacity. After Klup and Stren had returned to the workshop, the conversation resumed.

“Yer she-troll looks to be due to squirt out a litter soon?” the dwarf asked. “What be yer plans for her brood if you don’t mind me ask’n, Lord Bent?”

“I would be interested in offers for up to three of the pups, depending on if they survive until weaning,” Peter replied, sensing haggling about to ensue.

“We’ll, me lads would shite bullion if I brought troll pups home,” he replied, rubbing his beard. “Would you consider a commission arrangement if I could arrange buyers to pick up the pups here?”

“I would be happy to pay five percent,” Peter said, to start the bargaining.

Gerston acted like he was choking and countered with twenty-five percent. Peter predicted they would settle at fifteen.

“How fast would a troll-pup be able to learn to row and pole my barge?” Neverlate asked, interjecting himself into the haggling.

Peter smiled at Gerston’s frown. The dwarf realized that without an agreed deal, he’d lose out on any commission if the ferryman bought all the pups now.

“Fifteen percent!” The dwarf said, holding out his meaty hand.

“Done!” Peter replied. “But only five percent for any sold to Neverlate.”

The dwarf frowned so Peter added. “Come on, Gerston. We both depend on the ferry and Neverlate is not getting any younger.

“Okay! Okay ... deal,” the dwarf agreed. “But you get to castrate the male pups before they are sold.”

Peter would have done that anyway. The last thing any of them needed was more horny boar trolls running around the area in lust. He noticed Neverlate’s slightly put-off expression and remembered that he’d insinuated that the old man was old.

“And, I will sell to you for a third less than any other offers Gerston manages to come up with,” Peter said to the older ferryman.

Neverlate perked up at having secured a sure bargain. That diversion over, Gerston returned to unloading his cargo. He slid one of the four wooden crates closer to Peter and pried open its lid. Inside were canvas sacks filled with bronze nuts and bolts.

“The ‘hardware’ you requested, Lord Bent.”

It looked like the dwarves had been busy with the hardened steel taps and dies he’d also brought from Earth last season. Peter inspected an assortment and passed them to Hamm who nodded in approval. Neverlate took interest in the shiny hardware.

“Six-sided bolt heads?” the old seaman commented with a raised eyebrow.

“They are easier to tighten in close quarters than four,” Peter replied. “Also, the nuts and bolt heads are more compact.”

“Lord Bent is right,” Gerston said. “At first me’lads were skeptical, but after forging the tools and using them, we agree they are easier and faster to use.”

“Is demand growing?” Peter asked.

“Aye,” the dwarf replied. “And with that, the profits ... speaking of which.”

He slid over the last, smallest wooden strongbox. Inside were more sacks. The dwarf grabbed one and tossed it to Peter. Inside were a double handful of wren-egg-sized rubies. He held one of the rubies tightly inside his closed palm for a moment, and as expected, felt the natural Kreven magic inside. He’d need Rhecate’s help to remove the magical ‘taint’ from the gems before he could transport them back to Earth.

Peter depended on the gems to fund the bulk of his activities there. Still, despite the added costs and risks of dealing with the half-crazy witch in preparing them, there were enough gems here to easily add seven figures to his Earthly bank balance.

The other sacks contain emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds,” Gerston explained. “All told, your share of the profits is a third more than last season.”

“Good ... Good,” Peter said, tucking the sack back in the strongbox. “Hamm, would you see this payment off to my study?” Peter asked.

“Yes, milord,” his villein replied instantly.

The burly man refastened the lid and hefted the box casually onto his shoulder. Knowing that with a long return journey ahead the metal trader would want to depart as soon as his wagon was empty, Hamm bid farewell to Gerston and the ferryman before departing to the manor with the gems.

Stren and Klup returned for the final load and left with the three remaining heavy crates. The teenager was burdened with just one but the she-troll easily carried the other two.

“Damn! Trolls are strong!” Neverlate commented, studying the pregnant troll now with a buyer’s eye.

“Yes, without the she-troll’s help, my four naroxen would have never gotten this laden wagon up the hill to Lord Bent’s yard.”

The ferrymen looked thoughtful, considering how much easier operating his barge-like boat would be with a troll’s assistance. That, or how much money he could save if he used troll labor and fired his current polemen.

“Lord Bent,” Neverlate said. “If I should indeed want to purchase two of the pups, how long would it be until they could work the barge?”

Peter considered. Male or female troll pups grew quickly but the old man would not be able to control them on his own, not without first having them conditioned by the death plant.

“I’m afraid five seasons,” he replied. “And even then, I will only sell you females if enough are born.”

He held up his hand to forestall the ferryman. “But, understand, with that wait, you will be purchasing well-tempered and easily-controllable she-trolls. I would guarantee that they would be reliable, hardworking, and would remain faithful to you only.”

At first, the ferryman was distressed at the delay and at Peter’s assumptions but then he calmed and then sighed. “Yes, I would need that for sure.”

“Also,” Peter continued. “Understand that while she-troll workers do not require regular monetary wages, any savings would be partially offset by the increased cost of providing meat for their diets.”

Neverlate pondered the matter for a long moment. “They will eat fish I assume?”

Peter nodded. He could already imagine how Neverlate might farm out his trolls to help the fellow fishermen unload their daily catches simply for a small share of the take.

Neverlate seemed to smile and come to an understanding. “Alright, Lord Bent. If one or two she-troll pups are born, please reserve them for me and see that they are trained. I trust your price will be fair.”

They shook on the deal. Peter had used Neverlate’s ferry service for over five years exclusively, ever since the retired seaman had come to the Mirror Lake midlands district and set up his business. In all that time, Peter had never questioned the man’s rates or terms. Likewise, Neverlate knew that if he did not pay Peter’s asking price for the trolls, he’d risk losing the Cursed Island’s ferry business to one of his competitors.

“Before I forget,” Peter said. “I had Belle leave a satchel of letters down at your ferry. Please see they are delivered to the post once you arrive back in Priam’s Cove. One of the letters is for Berg’s Livery. If you could drop that one off personally immediately after your return, I would be in your debt.”

Berg was already aware that Peter would have need of a team, driver, and carriage sometime this week. With the seeding complete, Peter’s timetable had advanced a few days and they would be traveling to Priam’s Cove tomorrow and would need a carriage. The letter stated as such.