The wind runner book 10.., p.69
The Wind Runner: Book 10 (The Wandering Inn), page 69
Rissa grew slowly more cross-eyed as she listened to Olesm talk. She shook her head and waved her quill, interrupting him.
“I don’t need a summary. I’ll have to read it myself. Leave me to my work! Gah. You’ve written double-sided? I suppose it saves parchment, but I’ll have to use my lightest inks…come back with the rest of my money and I’ll have the first professional copy ready.”
“Yes, Miss Rissa. Thank you—”
The door nearly hit Olesm on the way out. The [Strategist] glared as Miss Rissa’s long-handled stick adeptly flipped the sign on her tiny shop. From ‘Available’ to ‘Reserved’. He yawned and glared up at the sun. It was barely past dawn; he’d been lucky to get here in time to get her services for the morning.
“Twelve silver? It’s not like I make that much for each magazine. In fact, I don’t! What am I supposed to do, charge a gold piece for each? You’re lucky I need you to send this to Lord Astoragon. Then I’m getting these done cheap at Jeckl’s. At least he’s not a jerk.”
He glared at the shop and then stomped down the street. He was hoping to sell at least two hundred copies all told, which would make up for the price of the initial twenty done by Rissa. It had been a while since Olesm had run out an edition of his chess magazine. Heck, it wasn’t long since he’d started making them. But Erin had encouraged him and…well, that was all he’d needed.
“Last time I sold, what? Eighty? They went out to Celum, and I think some people took more north. Somehow, one of them reached the Titan himself. If you add that to my dedicated mailing list…if I charge ten silver and I can get the Runner’s Guild to buy them off me—can I do eleven? Twelve, to make up for Rissa? If I sell two hundred copies—but what if I make too many? Then I’m down…”
The [Strategist] muttered to himself as he tried to do some math on the go. Liscor’s streets were still filling up, but he had a lot of work to do. And it wasn’t even his work day yet. Today and yesterday had been Olesm’s days off, and he’d hoped to talk to Erin. Since he hadn’t and had been hit with a bag and nearly blown up, he’d spent last night working on the chess magazine, which was really just a [Strategist] magazine now. Gloomily, Olesm walked down the street.
“I should really have a name. Olesm’s Insights. No. That’s terrible. Chess Monthly? But it’s not chess anymore, is it? Er, the Liscorian Perspective? This is why I need Erin. She’d have a catchy name like—”
“Olesm!”
“Hm?”
The Drake turned. Someone was calling out to him. He saw a tall figure striding down the street around two elderly Drakes arguing with an old Drake that Olesm recognized. Tekshia, Guildmistress of the Adventurer’s Guild, glanced up at hearing Olesm’s name and then let the tall figure with bunny ears pass. Hawk strode towards Olesm with alarming speed. But that was Couriers for you. Tekshia kept arguing with the other two Drakes, sitting at an outdoor restaurant or maybe a pub. Olesm turned to Hawk.
“Hawk?”
The Courier of Liscor wore a light vest and nothing else on his upper body. He had long pants on, tailored to fit his rabbit hindquarters. But they were simple clothes, meant for strenuous motion, not fashion. He was clearly working today, but Olesm saw no package in his hands.
“Anything for me?”
“Not just yet. I haven’t run in the last few days. Did a long run to Pallass and got back a bit ago through that magic doorway a few days ago. I decided to take a holiday for a bit—I’m about to hit the Runner’s Guild for work. I expect there’s at least a few deliveries waiting on me.”
Olesm nodded. Hawk, as the sole Courier living in Liscor, could do deliveries south of Liscor where normal City Runners couldn’t. With the Blood Fields active in the spring—especially after the battle between the Drake armies and Tyrion Veltras’ forces—it was too dangerous for anyone to go south. Which meant that messages and deliveries usually waited on Hawk.
“I imagine they’ll be relieved you’re coming in. But, uh, if you’re going to do a trip south, mind waiting for a day? You see, I just got my latest chess magazine done. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it…”
The [Strategist] flushed a bit and trailed off. What was he doing, talking to Hawk about his magazine? But if the Courier went, it would be days before Olesm could send a delivery south.
To his surprise, Hawk’s ears perked up. The Rabbit Beastkin gave Olesm an appraising look. They’d rarely talked, but as Liscor’s [Strategist], Olesm had gotten to know Hawk and made a few requests of him in official capacities over the years.
“Your chess thing? I heard about that. Mind if I see?”
“Oh! Of course!”
Flustered, Olesm presented him with the sheaf of papers, Jeckl’s copy that had offended Rissa. The Courier flipped through the pages, blinking at the chess notation. Olesm winced; it definitely wasn’t eye-catching stuff unless you were a [Strategist]. But he had a growing audience—some people had sent him a lot of gold in donations! The Titan had read his work! That had to count for something.
“Hefty. And this is going out by the Runner’s Guild?”
“Yes. I’m sending them by way of City Runner to various [Strategists] I know. I can’t copy too many, but…I’m hoping to do two hundred. Uh, I’d only be able to pay you to do eight or so! You can just bring them to Pallass’ Runner’s Guild. It can go to the other recipients from there.”
Hawk frowned.
“Hm. They can’t copy illustrations at the Mage’s Guild. At least, not unless the [Mage] knows a sketching spell or has [Artist] classes. Sounds like it’s worth my while, then. How much for six?”
“O-oh. Well, if it’s only six, wait, at your rates—”
Olesm fumbled, confused. Hawk laughed. He shifted, his wide rabbit’s feet restless as ever.
“I meant six for me to buy. On top of the eight you want sent out. How much are you charging? Two gold pieces per edition? If it’s only two hundred, this is a limited run, right? That drives up the price.”
He reached for his money pouch. Olesm gaped at him.
“Two gold pieces? No, it’s ten silver!”
“Ten silver?”
This time, the Rabbit Beastkin recoiled. He stared at Olesm and shook his head.
“For this? And you’re selling only two hundred? Olesm, friend, you’re going to get ripped off that way. How much do you think these things are worth?”
“Uh—not two gold pieces.”
“Well, no. But people will pay a premium to get a copy first. Once it gets spread about and people make more copies, it’ll be worth less. But Olesm—remember that ring and the note I gave you from you know who?”
Hawk waggled his ears at Olesm. The Drake stared at them and jumped.
“You mean from—”
“—ah, no names. Courier’s code an’ all. But yeah. If he read your copy, you bet it’s popular. I heard some people were making copies in Baleros of your older editions. And this? This is new. So it’s worth me paying for—if you’re not about to spread them via [Message] spell or something.”
Hawk gave Olesm a stern look. He was lecturing, but only slightly, and Olesm listened. You could learn a lot from a successful Courier, and Hawk was rich.
“There are clients in other Walled Cities who made me an offer to get them one of your chess magazines if you come out with one. They’ll pay double for exclusive stuff like this. As long as it’s exclusive. Don’t let the Mage’s Guild get a hold of one of your copies unless you want to lose all your profits. And don’t trust the City Runners not to sell it to the first Mage’s Guild, or even the one in Liscor. Some might even get it copied by a [Scribe] too.”
“But isn’t it easy for anyone to copy? I mean, I’d expect that…”
Olesm trailed off weakly. Hawk nodded.
“So would I. So the trick is you make a few copies, say, forty? And you send them off and get paid a premium. Then, after four days, you make up a batch—your two hundred—and sell them to the Runner’s Guild and Mage’s Guild in Liscor and Pallass for cheap. That’s what I’d do.”
“Wow. But people will pay that much?”
Hawk gave Olesm a strange look.
“The Titan reads your magazine, Olesm.”
“But—I know that, but—it’s just a small enterprise! I just started a few months ago, I’ve put out like four editions!”
“And the Titan—damn, I said his name twice—reads your magazine. That means every [Strategist] and, er, chess lover around the world will want a copy of your magazine. How many do you think there are? Thousands. Tens of thousands. That’s your audience. You won’t reach most of them yourself; your magazine’s going to be copied. But you can have an exclusive list who’ll pay you in gold for early access. Don’t take that for granted. So, about the copies?”
Hawk patted Olesm on the shoulder in a friendly way. The [Strategist] stared at him, mouth agape.
“Well I, uh, well, I’m having more copies done. But—but I’ll have some tonight! Definitely! I can contact you—”
“I’ll stop by and delay my run until then. Let me know, alright? And remember, keep them away from [Mages] unless you want to ruin my profit margin—and yours!”
Hawk strode off. Olesm gaped at him. Hawk was delaying his run for some of the chess magazines? The Drake felt a surge of elation and fear. Then he had a thought. He turned and rushed back towards Rissa’s shop.
“I’m bus—”
The Drake [Scribe] snapped as the door flew open. She stared at Olesm and glared.
“What? Do you have more of my money?”
Olesm shook his head, panting. He pointed at the papers on her desk. She was already halfway through one copy. He’d seen Rissa work, and she was fast. All those Skills. He coughed and spoke hurriedly.
“Those twelve silver coins—they’re for exclusivity, right? You’re not making anyone else any copies. Right?”
He saw the [Scribe] freeze for a second. She glanced down at the papers and confirmed Olesm’s worst fears.
“Well, I—this is hardly enough money to be exclusive. And you didn’t ask. I have my work to do, but I suppose if anyone asked—”
“You can’t do that! Those are mine! You can’t copy them! What were you going to do, make more copies for the Runner’s Guild? The Mage’s Guild?”
He saw the older Drake woman bristle, but her tail was twitching rapidly.
“That’s highly—what an allegation! What I do with works provided to me is my business. If you wanted me to keep it exclusive, you should have made that clear. And if you want me to avoid making other copies, the price will be sixteen—”
“No!”
Olesm lunged for the desk. He tore his precious copy of his magazine away. Rissa made a startled noise.
“Give me that! You paid me—”
“And I want my money back! You’re no longer hired!”
“You can’t unhire me!”
The [Scribe] tried to get up, but her padded clothes made her awkward. And she was hardly fit; she swiped for the copy Olesm was stuffing into his belt pouch. He tore frantically at the half-finished copy on her desk, ripping it to shreds.
“They’re mine! Anyone who wants a copy has to pay me! Me! And if you think I’m paying you sixteen silver—”
“You’ll pay me more than that! How dare you! I have every right to make whatever copies I please—”
The door opened. Olesm stopped dancing about, waving his magazine copy over his head. Rissa stopped reaching for it and trying to stab Olesm with a quill. They turned towards the door. Ilvriss, Wall Lord of Salazsar, stared at the two of them and coughed.
“Swifttail.”
“Wall Lord!”
Olesm stared and then realized he was still fending Rissa off with one hand. He straightened, blushing fiercely.
“I was, uh, just—”
“I believe I heard. Miss Rissa Inkscale?”
“Yes? The best [Scribe] in Liscor at your service, Wall Lord Ilvriss. I was just having an incident with a disagreeable client. How may I serve you?”
Rissa hurried behind her desk, beaming at Ilvriss and giving Olesm a death-glare at the same time. Ilvriss eyed her and then turned to Olesm.
“I have some work I needed copied. Minor sketching. But if you’ve reserved Miss Inkscale’s services, Swifttail, far be it from me—”
“No. No, I was, uh, cancelling my order. And I’ll need my money back.”
Olesm glared at Rissa. The [Scribe] purpled, but she dared not object in front of Ilvriss. The gold coins and silver appeared back on the counter—minus one of the gold coins Olesm had paid her. He gave her a flinty look, but took it anyways. Ilvriss stared at the papers Olesm clutched to his chest.
“Am I to assume you’ve come out with another edition of your…magazine? I recall you telling me about that. General Shivertail made a passing remark on the subject.”
Olesm jumped. Zel Shivertail had read his magazine? He stammered.
“Wh—yes! I did come out with a new edition. But, uh, I’m trying to figure out a way to market it. And having it copied—”
“Exclusivity. I quite understand. Well, her work is hardly high-level [Scribe] quality, but if that’s the issue…”
Ilvriss tapped a claw on his chin as he thought. Olesm waited nervously. So did Rissa, who was quite cowed by the Wall Lord’s presence despite this being her shop. Ilvriss just had that effect. He was the picture of a Wall Lord, grand, commanding, and, Olesm had to admit, handsome. Olesm only got called cute by the Drake girls, but Ilvriss was like the [Lords] you heard about in stories. A real Wall Lord of a Walled City in the flesh. In Liscor. And, what was stranger, he knew Olesm’s name and took an interest in Olesm’s life.
The younger [Strategist] had no idea why, but Ilvriss had taken an interest in him and treated him almost like a protégé at times. Like now, in fact. Ilvriss came to a decision and nodded brusquely at Olesm.
“Allow me to lend you my personal assistant. We can discuss a moderate fee for the transaction later, but I think this would be a useful instructive moment. Assuming you don’t object to slightly lower-quality work?”
“What? No, not at all! I’d be honored!”
“Wall Lord! I—”
Rissa cut off as Ilvriss gave her a cool glance. Too cool, in fact. Cold. Olesm wished he could give someone that look on command. Ilvriss snapped his fingers gently.
“Miss Inkscale, I’d like to request your services for a series of prints. Monster sketches, mainly. The copies of which I have…here.”
He placed a sheaf of sketches, all on snow-white paper, on Rissa’s desk. The [Scribe] blinked, and Olesm caught a glimpse of several disturbing creatures as she paged through them. They looked like crude illustrations drawn by someone with no talent. Even so, they looked quite disturbing. And undead. Ilvriss tapped the papers.
“I know you’re no [Artist], but I’m told you have the [Illustrator’s Vision] Skill. Are you able to see the intention behind these?”
“I—yes, Wall Lord. Horrific beasts. Still sketches, though. I’m getting imaginative images rather than anything concrete. Whoever made these didn’t see them, only heard them, I’m afraid.”
“That’s what I expected. Nevertheless, if you’d be able to transcribe the internal images, I’d be most grateful. By tonight? I will pay for speed, hard work, and exclusivity.”
Rissa blushed a bit. She straightened and looked at Ilvriss.
“Of course, Wall Lord. It would be my honor. I can have the sketches done by then. In color?”
“I understand there’s very little. Black ink will suffice. My assistant will come by sundown to collect them. Good day. Swifttail? With me.”
Ilvriss gave Rissa a slight bow and a smile that had her blushing. Then he swept out of her shop. Olesm, in awe, watched him go. Then he saw Rissa glance at him.
“Well? What are you standing around here for?”
She snapped at him. He jumped and hurried out after Ilvriss. The Wall Lord was waiting for him. Olesm had to admire that. He’d gone in there, hadn’t haggled, just made his request and left. He wondered if money was even an obstacle for Ilvriss. Would Rissa even overcharge him? A Wall Lord?
“I hope I didn’t interfere too much, Swifttail.”
Ilvriss glanced at Olesm. The [Strategist] blushed again.
“Not at all, Wall Lord. It was my fault. I didn’t realize my magazines were so…”
Valuable? It felt ridiculous to say that to Ilvriss, who had gemstone rings on his claws and wore silk clothing day to day. But the Wall Lord only nodded as if it were reasonable.
“It’s hard to appraise the value of something new. Your magazine is a new commodity, but, I think, gaining in worth. You’re aware the Titan of Baleros praised it? That alone makes its earning potential substantially higher. From what I heard, you’re aware you should be making it exclusive?”
“Yes, yes—I just met with Hawk, actually. And he said…”
Olesm hurried after Ilvriss, talking quickly and summarizing his chat with the Courier. Ilvriss nodded. He was leading Olesm back down the street, towards the City Hall. It was slow going, even though both Drakes knew where they were going. That was because Ilvriss had to stop every few seconds to greet someone.
“Mister Rekil. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Good day, Miss. And who is this young one?”
“Guildmistress Tekshia. An honor.”
“Wall Lord.”
The old Drake was still sitting with her two companions. One of the old male Drakes looked up, munching on some kind of pretzel.
“Is that Wall Lord Ilvriss? Fine fellow! Good job on those Walled Cities, young Drake! I visited Salazsar once. Beautiful place. You still mining those gemstones?”
