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Authors: T.B. Christensen
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attacked in the last couple weeks. The only safe time to travel is during the light of day. The gates have been ordered to stay shut from sunset to sunrise. I’ll see what I can do though. I can’t leave you out here with bandits about. Just wait a minute.”
The guard slipped back through the door and left them standing there wondering if there really were bandits nearby. John said that they had not seen any bandits so far and probably would not now, but he would still rather sleep in a comfortable bed tonight than on the ground again. After several minutes, the gate still had not opened. Hank suggested that they might as well find a good spot to set up camp, but as they turned to leave, the gates slowly began to creak open. The gate stopped when it was just wide enough for the wagon to slip through and immediately began to close again after they squeezed by. They thanked the guards and slowly made their way deeper into the city.
On either side of the street, shops were beginning to close up. People dotted the streets as they finished up the errands of the day. Here most of the shops were two stories. It felt strange to have buildings towering all around him. Back at home only Hand’s mill had been taller than a single story. All of the buildings here seemed to be at least two stories. They turned down the first street that crossed the one they were following and headed north towards the warehouses. Hank explained that all of the warehouses were built around the northern gate. By the time they reached the warehouse where they sold their sheepskins, it was beginning to get dark. Even in the dark Traven could see that the warehouses towered above all of the shops around them. Traven was sure that some of the warehouses had to be at least four stories. The height of the buildings was somewhat offset by their width. They didn’t seem quite so tall with their bases being even wider than they were tall. They all seemed so immense to Traven.
Hank and John turned into one of the smaller warehouses. A short, balding man was waiting for them just inside the large doors.
“I was wondering if you fellows were going to make it or not. I have some weavers that will be glad to know your shipment has arrived. You’ve brought the first shipment of wool that’s come into the city since the bandits started raiding the highways. It’s unfortunate, but it means more money for us,” he said with a wide grin. “By the way, who’s the boy? He isn’t one of yours is he?”
“Oh, sorry,” John replied. “This is Traven. He was traveling with us. He’s headed to a merchant school in Calyn. Traven this is Mr. Sottle. He has been doing business with our family for years.”
Traven shook the old man’s hand and followed as he led them up some stairs to where he lived. Hank and John continued to talk with Mr. Sottle as Traven followed them into a small room and sat with them. He didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about. He was tired, and they were discussing boring things like wool prices and quality. The room was not as small as Traven had at first thought. It only seemed small in comparison to the rest of the building. On the far side of the room there was a small table covered with papers where it appeared Mr. Sottle did his clerical work. There was also a small dinner table and a wood carving of a hawk in flight. The eyes of the hawk glittered back at him, and he realized that they were actually jewels. As he took a closer look around the room he realized that Mr. Sottle was definitely not a poor man. The legs of the table were spidered with veins of gold, and the fragile looking vases around the room suddenly took on another meaning. He could now see all of the treasures displayed around the room. Maybe he really would be wealthy once he completed merchant school. He was pulled from his thoughts abruptly by
The guard slipped back through the door and left them standing there wondering if there really were bandits nearby. John said that they had not seen any bandits so far and probably would not now, but he would still rather sleep in a comfortable bed tonight than on the ground again. After several minutes, the gate still had not opened. Hank suggested that they might as well find a good spot to set up camp, but as they turned to leave, the gates slowly began to creak open. The gate stopped when it was just wide enough for the wagon to slip through and immediately began to close again after they squeezed by. They thanked the guards and slowly made their way deeper into the city.
On either side of the street, shops were beginning to close up. People dotted the streets as they finished up the errands of the day. Here most of the shops were two stories. It felt strange to have buildings towering all around him. Back at home only Hand’s mill had been taller than a single story. All of the buildings here seemed to be at least two stories. They turned down the first street that crossed the one they were following and headed north towards the warehouses. Hank explained that all of the warehouses were built around the northern gate. By the time they reached the warehouse where they sold their sheepskins, it was beginning to get dark. Even in the dark Traven could see that the warehouses towered above all of the shops around them. Traven was sure that some of the warehouses had to be at least four stories. The height of the buildings was somewhat offset by their width. They didn’t seem quite so tall with their bases being even wider than they were tall. They all seemed so immense to Traven.
Hank and John turned into one of the smaller warehouses. A short, balding man was waiting for them just inside the large doors.
“I was wondering if you fellows were going to make it or not. I have some weavers that will be glad to know your shipment has arrived. You’ve brought the first shipment of wool that’s come into the city since the bandits started raiding the highways. It’s unfortunate, but it means more money for us,” he said with a wide grin. “By the way, who’s the boy? He isn’t one of yours is he?”
“Oh, sorry,” John replied. “This is Traven. He was traveling with us. He’s headed to a merchant school in Calyn. Traven this is Mr. Sottle. He has been doing business with our family for years.”
Traven shook the old man’s hand and followed as he led them up some stairs to where he lived. Hank and John continued to talk with Mr. Sottle as Traven followed them into a small room and sat with them. He didn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about. He was tired, and they were discussing boring things like wool prices and quality. The room was not as small as Traven had at first thought. It only seemed small in comparison to the rest of the building. On the far side of the room there was a small table covered with papers where it appeared Mr. Sottle did his clerical work. There was also a small dinner table and a wood carving of a hawk in flight. The eyes of the hawk glittered back at him, and he realized that they were actually jewels. As he took a closer look around the room he realized that Mr. Sottle was definitely not a poor man. The legs of the table were spidered with veins of gold, and the fragile looking vases around the room suddenly took on another meaning. He could now see all of the treasures displayed around the room. Maybe he really would be wealthy once he completed merchant school. He was pulled from his thoughts abruptly by
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