Through the narrow streets leading to the great plaza of Karth, swarmed
a colorful crowd--buyers, idlers, herdsmen, artisans, traders. From all
directions they came, some to gather around the fountain, some to
explore the wineshops, many to examine the wares, or to buy from the
merchants whose booths and tents hid the cobblestones.
A caravan wound its way through a gate and stopped, the weary beasts
standing patiently as the traders sought vacant space where they might
open business. From another gate, a herdsman guided his living wares
through the crowd, his working animals snapping at the heels of the
flock, keeping it together and in motion.
Musa, trader of Karth, sat cross-legged before his shop, watching the
scene with quiet amusement. Business was good in the city, and his was
pleasingly above the average. Western caravans had come in, exchanging
their goods for those eastern wares he had acquired. Buyers from the
city and from the surrounding hills had come to him, to exchange their
coin for his goods. He glanced back into the booth, satisfied with what
he saw, then resumed his casual watch of the plaza. No one seemed
interested in him.
There were customers in plenty. Men stopped, critically examined the
contents of the displays, then moved on, or stayed to bargain. One of
these paused before Musa, his eyes dwelling on the merchant rather than
on his wares.
[Illustration]
The shopper was a man of medium height. His rather slender, finely
featured face belied the apparent heaviness of his body, though his
appearance was not actually abnormal. Rather, he gave the impression of
being a man of powerful physique and ascetic habits. His dress was that
of a herdsman, or possibly of an owner of herds from the northern
Galankar.
Musa arose, to face him.
"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Or a finely worked bronze jar from the
East?"
The stranger nodded. "Possibly. But I would like to look a while if I
may."
Musa stepped aside, waving a hand. "You are more than welcome, friend,"
he assented. "Perhaps some of my poor goods may strike your fancy."
"Thank you." The stranger moved inside.
Musa stood at the entrance, watching him. As the man stepped from place
to place, Musa noted that he seemed to radiate a certain confidence.
There was a definite aura of power and ability. This man, the trader
decided, was no ordinary herdsman. He commanded more than sheep.
"You own herds to the North?" he asked.
The stranger turned, smiling. "Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes, I come
from the North." He swept a hand to indicate the merchandise on display,
and directed a questioning gaze at the merchant. "It seems strange that
your goods are all of the East. I see little of the West in all your
shop."
* * * * *
Normally, Musa kept his own council, assuming that his affairs were not
public property, but his alone. There was something about this man,
Lanko, however, which influenced him to break his usual reticence.
"I plan a trading trip to the Eastern Sea," he confided. "Of course, to
carry eastern goods again to the East would be a waste of time, so I am
reserving my western goods for the caravan and clearing out the things
of the East."
Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointed to a small case of finely worked
jewelry. "What would be the price of those earrings?"
Musa reached into the case, taking out a cunningly worked pair of shell
and gold trinkets.
"These are from Norlar, a type of jewelry we rarely see here," he said.
"For these, I must ask twenty balata."
Lanko whistled softly. "No wonder you would make a trip East. I wager
there is profit in those." He pointed. "What of the sword up there?"