The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 8

 

8 – Mosek – Return to the Grand Market

As he walks slowly through the tunnels, Mosek uses his staff for balance. Shaatka silently pushes the cart, whose wheels squeak a bit on the travel-worn path.

“Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry that I am moving so slow.” Mosek.

Shaatka Niiwazi sympathetically smiles, “I am honored to help however I can, Hairy Old Bear.”

“I wish I were younger and stronger. You’d make an enjoyable bedmate.”

“Even at full strength, I think I would exhaust you.” She teasingly responds.

Mosek, smiles, it’s the first joke she’s made on her way to the Grand Market.

He looks appreciatively at her strong, but fluid form wearing the linens and silks of a Protector. “You are probably right. I’ll have to find me a lonely Mama Bear within the Clans.”

Her small glow-moss lantern hangs from a hook on the cart, casting moving shadows along the tunnel walls.

“Instead of entering the Market with the cart. Let’s take the Merchant’s Tunnel. Peacekeepers will inspect the cart before we cross the border.” He explains.

She nods and points to her unstrung bow and arrows sticking out of the central portion of the cart. “Will these cause problems? I could have left them with others.”

He thinks for a moment as he sees the first markers.

“You are a Protector, and you are guarding me, so it shouldn’t be an issue. But I’m glad you are thinking.”

“Will you need me to cross the border?” She asks.

“Maybe. I might have one of the Bimkor help me, but I haven’t arranged anything.”

She nods as she steadily pushes the cart.

The light of the Cavern changes from solely Shaatka’s lamp to the brighter blue-green lanterns and yellow oil lamps of the Market staging space.

“Mosek!” an older Naawaii-wakwan loudly says as he stops unloading his cart.

Shaatka stops and watches as a variety of Bimkor rush to greet him.

Children hug him, then run under the red rope of the not-yet-opened Market entrance.

“Happy to see you.”

“Heard you were crushed.”

“Blessings of Bruna”

“Her Holy Blood healed you.”

The rush of voices merge around him.

 

After a moment, Shaatka steps forward. “Please let him rest a moment.”

Mosek lets out an exaggerated sigh as he feels overwhelmed. “It took almost twice as long to return. I wanted to be here yesterday.”

On the Market side of the red rope, a small crowd gathers. A slightly impatient dwarf says, “When you have time, we have accounts to settle.”

“He will, he always has.” A goblin instructor from Two Forges says, and then yells to Mosek. “Take your time. Your slate is probably filled with more than we expect.”

 The Market Peacekeepers raise the rope. “Market is Open,” they call.

 Mosek motions for Shaatka to push the cart to the Merchant’s tunnel, but the impatient Metal merchant comes up to Mosek. “I understand you were hurt, but you had been gone so much longer than usual. Your account is overdue.” He points to Shaatka. “Have your goblin woman unload and bring things straight to my table.”

Shaatka silently grips the handles of the cart and tightens her lips.

But Mosek nods and leans on his staff. “You are correct. I have been gone for a long time, and accounts need to be settled. Return to your stall. We will be there after we unload.”

The grumpy dwarf comments “Don’t take too long.” As he returns to the Grand Market.

In a soft voice, Mosek explains. “You might hear some ugly slurs. I didn’t realize my delay had caused problems. If you can carry and deliver the goods to the tables, I’ll bring the slate and my purse.”

She nods and removes the items he points to, laying them on the ground. “We’ll deal with the Smith Guild first. They are apparently the most worried.”

He looks at the slate, and most of the metal tools are marked Khur-dathun. Shaking his purse he counts the gold coins. He’ll purchase them directly. There are a few cooking utensils that were purchased with chitin and woven blankets. Some rolls of spider silk, dried mosses, and lichen were traded for School-made items. Mosek has Shaatka separate the items based on which merchant needs to be paid. “Before the Guild gets too impatient, let’s pay them first and then return for the others.”

She nods, picks up the items, and a few unsold tools.

Shaatka puts on a pair of carapace slit shades to help with the bright lights of the Grand Market. She notices she is one of the few wearing them, so her eyes will probably adjust quickly, and she feels more comfortable wearing them.  Mosek doesn’t react.

 With his slate in one hand and his staff in the other, he slowly enters the market. He feels hands patting him on the back, while others are extended for a shake. He smiles, holds up the slate, and nods to the Guild run tables. Soon the novelty of his return as lessened.

At the Smithing Guild Table, he smiles at a scowling old dwarf, flanked by his apprentices, all wearing guild badges.

“You called, and I am here,” Mosek says in a joking manner. He passes his slate to the Guild Dwarf, who starts counting off items. Shaatka places each item on the table as they are called off, starting first with unsold items, then moving to the carapace pieces, bone dust flux, and finally the woven blankets.

The Guild apprentices look with wonder at the strange shimmering silk blankets.

“Without a mechanical loom?” one whispers. The other nods before the Guild master grumpily says, “Silence. We are balancing the ledger.”

He then gets to the items marked Khur-dathun. He scowls. “I suppose I am to take a loss because you were hurt in the wilderness and they treated you.”

Mosek shakes his head, pulls out his purse, then counts out gold coins.

The apprentices gasp, not expecting to see coins from a Bimkor trader.

“You’ll not lose a thing, Guild Master. All accounts are settled.”

A few of the other customers notice the gold coins and then look at Shaatka standing silently.

“Never seen a Deep-deep trader pay in gold”

“Pay it. They wired him up with it.”

“Are those official royal marks on them?”

“She’s wearing a prybar.”

“Paid for it with gold?”

The Guild Master sweeps up the coins and then hands back the slate. “Mosek Broad-Path. Your account with the Smithing Guild has been settled.”

Mosek nods and motions for Shaatka to lead the way back to the cart.

 

A Priest of Durn softly places his hand on Mosek. “When you have completed your commercial obligations, please find me. I have a healer who wishes to inspect your injuries. We have to verify that you do not carry any infection or rot before you move into the Clan strongholds.”

Mosek nods and grips his staff. “Of course. I am a Child of Durn and obey his laws.”

 

Shaatka is more comfortable when they take the items to the Two Forges School stall. The Master Instructor there speaks directly to her in Mishikwe, asking whether she is enjoying the market and if her journey was peaceful, before focusing on Mosek and balancing the books.