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Part X

Afternoon of Tertius, Fourth Day of Autumnmoon

From the ashes of war, a new economy sprung forth, bringing renewed life to the Northern Continent—and it all took place in an area called the Herdrick Bazaar. From its location inside the city of Saladin, it took only a week to travel to any of the neighboring countries, providing a central rendezvous for merchants to trade wares before setting off for their routes. Vinetans traded with Kitezhians before heading to Angkor, Angkorians traded with Vinetans before heading to Koba—and so on.

The bazaar itself stretched nearly a league in length, with merchants adding to it all the time. It became the city's central arc, and the surrounding boroughs expanded around it. Hundreds of shacks and booths ladened the main street, and scores of people busied themselves in the areas in between. Merchants, travelers, locals, and foreigners all bustled about, looking for the best deals in town—of which there were many.

After sitting down for their first good meal in days, Bram and Uriana followed their new acquaintance, Matthias the Gray, to this great marketplace, where he hoped to collect vital provisions. From there, they would finally have a chance to travel north to Kitezh.

"We're looking for an herbalist," the old wizard explained. "I won't go anywhere without restocking my medical supplies."

They asked the first few merchants they came across for the location of a good shop. A woman selling ceramic pots told them to look nearby to the east, where they found a small first-aid tent. Though they carried no herbs, the nurse referred them to a shack a few hundred spans in the other direction. Bram thanked her, and the group headed west. They passed by multiple locations selling medical supplies, hypodermic needles, salves and potions—leaving Bram to wonder why Matthias was so intent on finding an herbalist, when so many other items were in plentiful supply. He knew wizards were particular about their spell components, but reaching Kitezh was feeling ever more urgent as the afternoon went on.

Finally, they reached a surgeon who claimed to know exactly where to go. "You want herbs? Then you need to find Géorg Töller. I purchase supplies from him for my anesthetics." He pointed with hands that were dark red and sticky from earlier procedures. The lack of a cleaning station seemed conspicuously absent for someone still intent on performing sterile operations. "He is back on the east side."

Bram turned to Matthias and spoke under his breath, "How long do you intend to travel back and forth across the bazaar?"

"My legs are tired," Uriana complained.

"Fine!" Matthias snarled. "This will be the last place. If it doesn't have what I'm looking for, then we'll go without the blasted herbs!"

The name of the shop was Töller's Herbs. It was a small shack consisting of a wooden half-wall and a canvas on top. A tarp hung from a central pole that spanned the length of the tent and served to separate the front of the store from a back room. A number of display cases stood in front, furnished with green and violet leaves, roots of varying shapes and sizes, and a multitude of different-colored powders. A sharp but sweet odor permeated the air. The display cases appeared to be unattended, leaving Bram to wonder how a conscientious merchant would be so careless.

Matthias explained that crime in the bazaar was practically nonexistent due to ever-vigilant civilian patrols. Merchants felt at ease about leaving their wares in locked, glass containers without fear of theft.

Unfortunately, Töller Herbs appeared to be closed.

"Hullo," Matthias called to the back of the tent. "We'd like some service, please."

"Forget about it," Bram counseled. "There's no one here."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't forget!" the old wizard shot back, stomping his foot for emphasis. "I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

Uriana giggled from Bram's side, reminding everyone that the shy little girl was still there. She seemed to find it funny that an old man like Matthias was putting on such a childish tantrum.

"Sorry, we are closed," a voice with a thick Kitezhian accent called from behind the flap. A man emerged with one arm, carrying a bulging burlap sack. He was either the aforementioned Géorg Töller, or someone of lesser conscience, ready to make off with most of the supplies.

"Are you the owner of this establishment?" Matthias inquired.

"I said, we are closed," he glibly responded.

Matthias took a step forward. "It'll only take a moment—"

The man sidestepped around Matthias. "Sorry, but I am in a hurry."

"Sir—" Bram quickly cut off the stranger's hasty retreat. "First, I'm going to need you to verify that you're the owner of this establishment."

"Of course," he responded, sounding indignant. "I am not a thief!"

Bram approached the one-armed man closely. "In that case, Mister Töller, let me explain something to you. We desperately need to reach Kitezh, and my friend here won't leave until he gets what he wants. We've been searching for hours to find an herbalist, and you're the first one we've found."

The so-called shopkeeper seemed unimpressed, so Bram put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close. He spoke under his breath, leaving no room to mistake the threatening tone in his voice. "I should mention that I'm also used to getting what I want."

Mister Töller looked into Bram's eyes and seemed to recognize his deadly serious gaze. "I see," he responded, his own face hardening. Clearly, he would not be intimidated so easily. "In that case, you should refer to me as Géorg. Anyone wishing to threaten me should at least use my first name—no?"

"As you wish, Géorg," Bram responded, his voice filled with condescension. "Now, would you please help my wizard friend to find the herbs he requires?"

Géorg perked up. "You say your friend is a wizard? Can he cast white magic?"

"Of course I can!" Matthias responded, standing tall with arms crossed. Bram gritted his teeth, sensing another mood swing.

"I will make you a deal," Géorg proposed. "I have a patient in need of medical attention. If you agree to help her first, then I will sell you herbs—yes?"

"He accepts," Bram answered for Matthias, ignoring the look of outrage on the gray wizard's face.

"I want the herbs now!" Matthias insisted. "I get what I want, first, and then I'll be willing to heal your patient."

"Done," Géorg agreed. "Tell me what you need."

Bram sighed in relief, glad to have finally brokered the deal. Even Matthias looked more composed, as he smoothed out the wrinkles from his tattered gray robes. Standing a few inches taller, he addressed the herbalist in a dignified voice.

"Well, then," he began, "the first thing I need … is thistlewort."

Géorg shook his head. "Sorry, all out."

Bram groaned.