The next couple of weeks saw us island-hopping around tropical plantations in a south-easterly direction until our hull was filled with exotic luxuries. The few times I was allowed shore leave didn’t provide many trade opportunities. I didn’t bother trying to trade with the puffed-up, overbearing, ruffle-necked masters of the estates. Instead, I would take a short dip and then wander off on the excuse of needing to walk more than twenty feet in one direction without coming to a wall. It was inevitable that I would run into the local workers before long.

“Don’t Move! I’m warning you!”

I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned to face the lanky, balding man wearing little more than a burlap sack and shaking a hand-axe in my direction. The blade was knicked and rusty.

“Who are you!” He demanded, shaking the axe at me as he did so. I put on a wide grin and spread my arms to show I wasn’t holding a weapon.

“I’m Patrick, world-traveling minstrel. I’ve just come on that ship and I’ll be leaving with the tide.”

I pointed over the slave's shoulder at the ship which was clearly visible, towering over the little fishing vessels tied up at the dock next to it.

“Best get back aboard your ship then. No good comes from wandering eyes and sticky fingers roaming about our isle. We’re good folk here. We work hard for our keep and we don’t need any part in your troubles.”

I tried to laugh disarmingly. Going by the look on the man’s face, I wasn’t very successful.

“I bring no troubles. In fact, I bring wares! Would you like to browse my selection?”

“Bah! Begone you!” He wiggled the axe at me again “No slave is allowed to handle coin, you won’t fool me with such a simple trap!” He looked triumphant like he had cornered me with inescapable logic. I shrugged, trying to disarm the situation.

“Who said anything about coin? We could trade items of equal value…”

“And just what do you expect we have in the way of trading goods? Think I have fine Pernassian rugs laid away? If I have to tell you to git one more time I’ll let my axe do the talking!”

“What about fruit?” That gave the man pause.

“What about fruit? He asked

“I couldn’t help but notice that my captain didn’t take on any fruit even though I’ve already seen a few fruit trees in just ten minutes of walking. Don’t tell me you just let all that food rot.” I scoffed. That offended the man’s sensibilities.

“We would never be so wasteful. We eat all the fruit we can. It’s just useless as a trade good. No fruit could survive weeks in a damp, hot ship’s hold.”

“Well, I’ll trade for it. It looks like you could use a new edge on that axe. How about I give you a whetstone for a crate of fruit. You get a tool that can keep your other tool sharp for just about forever. All it costs you is some fruit that can’t be traded!”

The man only grew more suspicious.

“That brings to mind a question. If it can’t be traded, why do you want it?”

“I have a healthy appetite and ship’s rations just aren’t cutting it.” It wasn’t really a fib, so long as I considered it a random comment instead of an answer to that particular question.”

In the end, I walked off with a dozen Mangoes. My inventory seemed to prevent or at least slow spoilage so it seemed like a worthwhile investment.

Each time I went ashore I expanded my selection of fruit until I was weighed down with Papayas, Star Fruit, and Guava as well. The only problem was how tempting it was to tear into them when I was gnawing at my well-preserved biscuits. Only the lack of privacy kept me from eating them on board the Sea-Cow. I wasn’t exactly willing to share with the crew so it was better if they never knew I had so many sugary treats.

Six and a half weeks after departing from Navarone, the cliffs once again loomed in the distance. It looked like my last guess was off. It should take closer to 6 months to finish my contract than 8. That was still a long time but with the promised payoff of thirty silver and what I could make on the side, I would be well situated to live comfortably for a while as I got my bearings.

That was pretty far off in the future still. What had me excited was the upcoming trip to the adventurers guild. Duncan was taking a trip to the local Merchants Guild and was willing to show me how to get to the Adventurers Guild on his way.

Adventurer’s Guilds were special as it turned out. They weren’t just glorified pubs with billboards covered in miscellaneous requests. They could only be built over specific places of power called ‘Fountains’ where the influence of the earth-mother could be felt. It was the nurturing power of the earth-mother which rewarded people for their adventurous spirit. Granting them strength and abilities for their hard work.

Basically, I could trade in skill levels for related abilities. I could also trade in my exp and level up! I couldn’t wait. My skills had built up over all my time in this new world and I was ready for one hell of a shopping spree!

The morning dragged on forever as the cliffs crept closer. When we got into the cavern and the sail went slack we ran out the oars and began hauling on them. After a few hours of walking the handle to the back of the boat, then pushing it through the water as I walked back up the deck, we made it to the docks.

Despite his business in the city, Duncan didn’t have any cargo that would make it past the warehouses, taverns, and distilleries that clogged the cavern’s shore. Instead of the magical lifts, we took a winding staircase carved into the wall while the rest of the crew took care of the deliveries.

The stairs seemed to go on forever but thankfully, there were little alcoves carved into the staircase where we could rest. Duncan and I sat on a stone bench overlooking the cavern as porters with impressively thick legs toted heavy packs up the stairs past us. None came back in the other direction. Duncan noted my curiosity.

“They’re the counter-weights,” He said.

“Hmm?” I asked, unsure what he was talking about.

“They are the secret to the magic lifts. I’m no mage but as far as I understand, it would take a tremendous amount of power to lift cargo all the way up to the city. Instead of relying on mage-power, which is expensive, they use man-power. Each lift has a twin. When one goes up, the other goes down. It’s not too different from a pulley system. When a platform at the bottom is loaded with cargo, any traffic that wants to head back to the cavern gets on the magically conjoined platform. These slaves make up the difference until the platform going down is just a little heavier than the one going up. Mages keep the platforms from getting up to dangerous speeds and the slaves climb back up the stairs.”

“Oh. That seems a little convoluted. Why not just have these porters carry the goods up directly?”

“You ever try and carry a keg up a staircase? What do you think would happen if you dropped it? This way is a lot safer for the goods and the workers.”

“Why use magic at all? What’s wrong with a good old fashioned winch?”

“‘Cause good strong rope is heavy. Enough rope to reach all the way down to the water would weigh more than the cargo you’re trying to lift. Then there’s the risk of the rope snapping and then all your cargo would be lost in the blink of an eye.”

“It still seems like a lot of trouble for a flashy effect.”

Duncan laughed unexpectedly.

“This is nothing Lad, People will do just about anything to build a town around a fountain. You should see the hoops they jump through to bring goods into Atlantis!”

“I still don’t like it” I muttered.

“Which part?” Duncan asked.

I eyed my Captain, feeling bolder now we were back on dry land I waved at the people marching by.

“The slaves.”

“Oh, you’re one of those are you?” Duncan regarded me thoughtfully for a long second before continuing, “Don’t worry. Give it a few months and you’ll grow the callouses you need to deal with them.”

Duncan spat over the edge, hiked up his trousers and set off up the endless spiral again. I followed him.

Approximately one forever later, we emerged into glaring sunlight. White-washed walls gleamed from every direction and I had to squint until my eyes adjusted. The stairs ended in a sort of pergola. On one side, we had a view over the city as it sloped downhill towards the wall that encircled the portion of the city facing the mainland.

Gleaming silver and bronze ornaments shone from almost every rooftop. Some looked like simple plating cut into abstract designs, others were three-dimensional stars or whimsical wether-vanes. The curtain wall itself looked more like an art installation than a military fortification. It seemed like it was made from a line of giant clam-shells stood up one next to the other, glued in place by seafoam and pebbles. A shimmering that looked an awful lot like heat-waves rose above it but they had a bluish tint which suggested that there was a magical component to the defenses.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted by and then the wind shifted, bringing something that smelled an awful lot like barbecue to my attention. Duncan pulled me along when I didn’t respond to his voice. Apparently I was blocking the exit for a little too long. The slaves had their own sub-terranean exit from the stairs but other cheap-skates wanted to get past me and to whatever business they had in the city.

We walked down the few steps on the other side of the pergola leading onto a busy street. Colorful banners and signs hung from the walls to the point where they provided a good amount of shade but I still couldn’t read any of the strange runes printed on them. The people were dressed in a crazy assortment of styles as you might expect in a major port-town but about half of the crowd wore long, flowing robes. Many wore the same dark blue but there was still a huge variety due to the intricate patterns embroidered into the robes. Some were small while others were expansive. Some used thread that was just slightly lighter in color than their robes for a subtle effect. Others used gleaming silver thread that kept glinting in the corner of my eye and catching my attention.

There were also mages, I assumed they were mages, walking around in white robes with embroidery ranging from grey to gold. There was a single person on this street wearing black robes with maroon embroidery.

I had grown used to grime and sweat as facts of life and I suddenly felt very out of place in the gleaming magical city. My bare feet, untamed hair, and open shirt didn’t exactly scream mentally stable. Buttoning the shirt helped some but I was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of how long it had been since I last brushed my teeth. I kept expecting a security guard to appear and escort me back to the undercity.