After the memorable trading session Arthur became something of a celebrity among the local merchants. He also gained a lot of respect among his traveling companions, enough to be seen as a fellow trader.

During the three months on the ship he'd been looked upon with a mixture of awe and distrust by the other traders. Creating a new market and making a fortune at the same time changed that.

In ten years of trading no one had thought of selling anything but the metal wanted here. That would change when news returned back to Earth. Well, it was only to be expected. Even leaving his old life behind him he was news in the making.

The days took on a routine of their own with Harbend already waiting in Arthur's living room when he woke but never sharing his breakfast. After that they'd go out and Harbend showed him various parts of the city.

This day started no differently and by midmorning they sauntered past a peculiar building displaying an enormous entrance but almost no windows. The first three floors were made of the smooth, white stone Arthur had come to expect, but above that another two wooden stories rose, and he could see they were recently added.

He crossed the street passing nimbly between coaches running in both directions. Coming to the sidewalk Arthur peered across the street to get a better view of the strange building.

"Splendid construction, eh?" Harbend said, coming up to his side.

"You know what it is?"

"Theater. The finest there is. They change the top floors for each play. Something to do with decor, but I would not know. Never been into the business myself. Have you?"

Arthur basked in the thoughts of immersing himself in the fantasies created by an author from another world and didn't listen to Harbend's last question.

"Have you?" he repeated.

"Oh, not really. Yes, in a way, but not with a famous script, or no, that's not entirely true. I've never been part of an ensemble or had a major role in a play if that's what you ask."

Harbend gave him a surprised stare in return. He apparently hadn't expected such an elaborate answer. "I could get us an invitation."

"Yes, yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, please, if it's possible."

"You do realize you probably shall fail to understand the play?"

"I know. It doesn't matter," Arthur answered, still spellbound by the opportunity of being part of an audience rather than standing in the limelight.

#

They spent most of the day obtaining clothes more suitable for a visit to the theater. That meant Harbend leading Arthur to different tailors, leaving him with the instructions to say nothing and move whatever body parts the tailor wanted moved, while running away on errands of his own.

When Arthur was left to the all too personal manhandling by the fifth tailor in quick succession his temper began to turn ugly, and he forced Harbend, when he finally returned, to explain what was going on.

"They are tailors. Unlike you outworlders we do not have warehouses where prospective customers can wander in and choose some clothes never fitting properly anyway."

"I understand that," Arthur responded testily and tried to pretend he didn't feel the hands taking measures of his legs. "But why do you have to drag me around half the city like this?"

Harbend stared back in surprise. "I told you magic is banned in Keen."

Arthur didn't understand. "So?" The hands neared his crotch and he barely avoided a twitch.

"Gods! You want me to bring you to the theater this evening. As a trader you of anyone ought to be familiar with the logistical phenomena of production time."

Understanding finally dawned on Arthur. "And they each make one piece?"

Harbend declined to answer the question.

#

Harbend led his client through a maze of narrow streets. He had one last errand to finish before he could devote himself to preparing Arthur for the evening.

They cut through the southern parts of Verd choosing a route he'd never shown Arthur before, and there was good reason for it Harbend thought grimly. Magical wonder of the world or not, the city still had its poor majority. Right from the planning of it, thousands of years earlier an emperor, more practical than idealistic, had ordered it built with just that in mind.

The few boulevards here were not laid out for beauty but to contain fires should they occur. The streets between them were narrow and crowded with loudmouthed, uncouth people, animals and the occasional cart, all smelly and all dirty. The very buildings were darker, gray rather than the granite red and marble white that was the hallmark of the capital. The streets themselves were flawlessly clean though. This was Verd after all.

Harbend recalled Nachi, his own faraway capital. Larger than Verd and with access to several of the finest magehealers Khi had educated. Dirt everywhere despite a huge workforce employed to transport the unwanted garbage out of the city, dumping it on stinking piles burning perpetually.

No matter how many magehealers made their living there death tolls from diseases were always greater than what he'd seen in Verd during his years here. Only the rich lived longer in Khi, but then Verd had no magehealers to ease the dangers of advanced age.

Eventually he dragged a bewildered Arthur from yet another narrow street to the open place just inside the southern gates. Krante Gates, referring to a large town an eightdays days ride or so to the southeast, attributing more of its fame to legend than any advantageous attractions it had to offer now.

Farmers were bringing in their wares through the gates. Mostly food of different kinds but also bales of linen, leather and wood that would eventually find their way to craftsmen who would turn it into clothes, shoes, furniture and a mass of other items to be sold here.

A squadron of the Holy Inquisition in red and black made their way through the gates cheered on by children staring wide eyed at the display, and a larger infantry unit, all in yellow, waited for their turn to march in the opposite direction.

The regiments prepared to vacate the exercise grounds south of the gates, and soon the last of the soldiers would be sent out to help with harvesting, infantry and cavalry alike.

Stables west of the gates, the only buildings almost perpetually dirty despite the magic of Verd, waited for the only eightdays during the year when they were clean and used as storage in preparation for the great market marking the end of summer. With only Inquisition troops and the Imperial Guard left in the city it would take on an almost unnatural absence of uniforms.

Arthur trailing his steps Harbend walked straight to the enclosed area where every visitor was searched for magic and followed the road to the outer gates. One of the few places where he wasn't pestered by peddlers wanting to make a customer of him. As always during daytime the gates were open and he passed under the archway and started searching for the female courier he knew would be waiting. Ah, there she was. He ran between a few carts to meet her and gave her a small package.

"To Hasselden as usual. It should cover their expenses the coming three eightdays. Send my best wishes."

"As you command, sir." She turned her horse and rode down the road.

Harbend stared after her as she headed for the western leg of the highway. With the money he made from selling Arthur's books maybe, just maybe he'd be able to send enough to last half a year rather than a few eightdays.

He'd have abandoned his office in Hasselden years earlier, but honor demanded otherwise. Winter storms forcing prey close enough to the coast for sea hunters to catch made it possible to keep it. The tender meat alone covered much of the expenses of a business no longer visited by traders from Khi. Much, but far from all.

"Now, my dear Arthur, we should have the rest of the day to ourselves," he said turning to his client who, he knew, by now was building up his frustration again. "For my store in Hasselden, and my employees running it for me."

"I see," Arthur said, and Harbend noted how the mounting frustration was gone in an instant.

Good man, he thought. The outworlder obviously knows the importance of taking care of his own.

Harbend made to return through the gates and caught himself smiling. "Arthur, I thank you for your patience. You must be starving. Let me show you the difference between a tavern and a restaurant, with you searching for dining halls early in the mornings and all."

Arthur's stomach rumbled in agreement and they were about to return when he pointed. "What's that?"

Harbend peered at the construction above the gates. Enormous square frames draped with cloth, linen he knew, painted either black or yellow. "That is the farwriter."

"Farwriter? Sounds familiar." Arthur squinted as he looked up in the air. "Oh, it's a telegraph!"

"Telegraph?" Now it was Harbend's turn to be confused.

"Same word, different origin. Telegraph is the correct one though," Arthur explained.

Harbend digested this as they watched one set of frames being taken down while another was winched up, displaying a different pattern of yellow and black.

Arthur slowly turned, but Harbend, anticipating it, stopped him.

"No idea." Harbend grinned. "You need to be standing on the battlements, and you need a..." He searched for the word, "a televiewer."

"Telescope." Arthur laughed suddenly. "Far seer! Well why not? Makes sense I guess. Now, Harbend, my stomach and I would very much like to see this restaurant of yours. How far is it?"

"Some one hundred lamps or so."

"Lamps?"

"Yes... oh sorry. Local measurement of distance. Took me a while to get used to as well. All lamp posts are placed at equal distance along roads and streets."

"I see," Arthur said and started examining two nearby lampposts.

"One lamp should be around forty or fifty of your meters," Harbend answered the unspoken question. "Too long for a hungry walk anyway. I shall get us a coach."

Well inside the gates they started for the main boulevard when Harbend was suddenly pushed aside. He staggered and when he found his balance again he stared into the face of an officer in the yellow and green of the Free Inquisition. He was about to retrace his steps when the man grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.

"Watch where you go you bastard!" the officer growled.

Harbend tried to pull free, but to no avail.

"Not so brave are you now?" another soldier laughed. "Should have stayed home in Khi where you don't trouble decent people."

"And the meaning of this outrage?" Harbend asked hiding the mixture of anger and fear rising within.

"No need we have of magic loving whores your kind thief of food from starving children," a third answered, accent and grammar declaring him a former citizen of magic loving Ira.

The most dangerous kind. Anger gave way and left fear as uncontested ruler of his mind. Outcasts turned fanatics were always welcome to join the Free Inquisition, and here he was surrounded by the very unit Arthur had humiliated at the sky port.

"... devil take them or I'll start breaking arms," Arthur's voice shot in and the sudden need to translate the meaning of outworlder words snapped Harbend out of his rising panic.

"Just angry soldiers," he said. Relief flooded him as he recognized the protection of Arthur's presence, then only stunned disbelief as the soldier from Ira drew and attacked the outworlder trader. Time slowed as he watched the saber descending.

No sound, no smell, only a bitter taste of metal in his mouth, and then Arthur sliding towards the soldier in a fluid motion ending only when he was too close for the bladed weapon to be of any use. Grabbing the sword arm with both hands Arthur twisted, forced the soldier up, around and down in a vicious circle ending with an ugly, meaty sound as he came crashing down on the street face first.

There was silence.

Arthur continued moving across the prone body.

Silence gave way to a horrible, cracking sound as he forced the arm over the back of the soldier, and then only a shrill scream of pain.

Time returned to normal.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean that," Arthur gasped as the arm fell limply to the ground, sword clattering out of reach.

Oh, he just lost balance, understanding dawned on Harbend, and then used the arm as leverage to avoid falling over. Harbend had wondered, and now he was gratefully convinced that the rich and mighty of the outworlders received at least some proper training befitting men of their station.

He stared at the fallen soldier, numbly noticing the Staff master doing the same, and in the meantime a crowd slowly gathered.

"Go! This is a matter for the Inquisition," the officer ordered.

The crowd, more fascinated than afraid, slowly started to disperse.

Bad, very bad! They pretend we're mages and we're in trouble.

"Halt!" A different voice this time.

"Go screw your horse!" the Staff master responded.

Harbend dared turning. A staff displaying the winged swords of mounted infantry rose into the air. Dragoons, only found in Keen, and with harvest festival only eightdays away Harbend didn't need to identify the insignia to recognize the presence of the Imperial Guard.

"I'll confer those words to the council, no, better yet, you shall do so," the newcomer said, and now Harbend could see a graying officer riding up beside the standard bearer. "Escort our uniformed guests to the gate."

A growling murmur of laughter followed by the clattering of hooves announced more soldiers making ready to obey the order to round up Inquisition troops. There was no love between Imperial Guard and Free Inquisition -- only the Holy Inquisition held their foreign counterpart more openly in contempt.

Harbend let out a long sigh accepting that they were safe.

"Any witnesses?" the officer demanded, and at that the crowd melted away. No one was interested in wasting half a day waiting for a questioning.

"I saw what happened," someone shouted from behind the horses.

And of course the singular idiot to prove you wrong, Harbend mused. He raised his face to his rescuer, but the graying officer was searching for whoever had volunteered.

"Oh, you." Turning his stare back to Harbend the officer smiled thinly. "You should leave unless you have a statement to bring before the council."

Harbend blinked. The officer didn't move. Unwilling to push his luck Harbend grabbed Arthur's arm and led the bewildered trader in search of a public coach.