Alten took a few orders that winter, and there appeared to be sufficient demand for us to open a shop. We were swamped with customers almost immediately, and competitors began to spring up.

I had a few qualms when Davon brought a lean, evil-looking, and half-drunk Nadrak to our shop the following spring. The Nadrak’s name was Kablek. He was loud and boisterous, and he didn’t smell any too nice. ‘All right, Davon,’ he was saying as the two of them entered the shop, ‘show me what you were talking about. I still say that it’s the fur that matters, not the hide it grows out of.’

‘The fur isn’t worth much if it falls out, Kablek,’ Davon explained patiently. ‘Your trappers don’t take proper care of the pelts back there in the mountains. A green, half-rotten hide isn’t worth bringing out of the woods.’

‘An honest trapper doesn’t have time to fool around with the pelts he takes.’

‘What’s he doing in his spare time? Getting drunk? It’s up to you, Kablek, but you’ll get a better price for your pelts if your trappers stay sober long enough to scrape the hides and soak them in tannin before they rot.’

‘A trapper doesn’t have room on his pack-horse for a pot that big,’ Kablek scoffed.

‘He’s always got room for two kegs of beer, doesn’t he?’

‘Those are just staples, Davon – part of his food supply.’

‘Tell him to drink water.’

‘That’s against our religion, I think.’

Davon shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, Kablek. Sooner or later I’ll find some Nadrak fur-trader who can see beyond the rim of his beer tankard. Whichever one of you figures it all out first is going to get my exclusive business.’

‘All right, show me these pelts you don’t like.’

‘Back here,’ Davon said, leading the weaving Nadrak back into the workroom. They were back there for about a half-hour, and Alnana, Alten, and I could hear Kablek quite clearly. His language was very colorful. Then the two of them came out again. ‘I didn’t realize they were quite that bad,’ Kablek admitted glumly. ‘Tell me exactly what the trapper ought to do to take care of that.’

Davon explained how the bark of certain trees preserved animal skins. ‘If your trappers do that as soon as they take the pelt, I’ll be able to finish the process here,’ he concluded. ‘Believe me, Kablek, it’ll at least double the price you’ll get when you bring them here to Darine.’

‘I’ll see what the trappers have to say about that.’

‘If you refuse to buy rotten pelts, they’ll get your point almost immediately.’

‘I’ll try it,’ Kablek grunted. Then he squinted at me. ‘Are you sure you won’t sell this one to me?’ he asked Davon. ‘You’ve got two, and no sane man needs two of them.’

‘I’m sorry, Kablek, but she’s not for sale.’

Kablek gave him a sour look. ‘I’m going back to that tavern,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you next spring.’ Then he reeled out of the shop.

‘What was that all about?’ I demanded.

‘He didn’t believe me when I told him that the pelts he was trying to sell me weren’t very good.’

That’s not what I meant, Davon. What is it that’s not for sale?’

‘You, Aunt Pol,’ Davon said innocently. ‘His offer was very attractive, though. You should be flattered.’

‘What?’ Alnana almost screamed.

‘It’s a peculiarity of Nadrak culture, dear,’ I explained. ‘Women are considered property, and they can be bought and sold.’

‘Slavery?’

‘It’s a little more complicated than that, Alnana. I’ll explain it to you someday – when we’re alone.’

A month or so later, a demure young woman with dark blonde hair came into the shop, ostensibly to look at sable muffs.

‘That’s the one, Pol,’ mother’s voice came to me.

‘I sort of noticed that myself,’ I sent the thought back. ‘It’s almost like a bell ringing, isn’t it?’

‘You’re getting better at this, Pol. A few more generations and I’ll be out of a job.’

The blonde girl’s name was Ellette, and she and Alten evidently also heard the bell mother and I’d been talking about.

They were married the following winter, and Alten didn’t seem too unhappy about giving up bachelorhood.

We were all quite happy in Darine, but just between you and me, I had some reservations about the situation there. The family was still just a little too prosperous – and too much in the public eye – to suit me. There were also inevitable contacts with foreigners. Kablek was a friend of the family, and I more or less trusted him – as far as I’ve ever trusted any Angarak – but I’d have felt much better had we never met. The best-intentioned Angarak in the world will still tell any Grolim who comes by just about anything the Grolim wants to know. I decided during our stay in Darine that port cities should be avoided, and large interior cities as well. Villages would undoubtedly be safer. Townsmen are too busy and too self-important to pay all that much attention to strangers, but villagers don’t really have that much to talk about, so every passing stranger is the main topic of conversation in the village tavern for a week or so. That in itself would give me plenty of warning, since there are ways for me to listen in on such discussions without being forced to endure the sour reek of stale beer. Village life can be boring, but the safety it’d provide would more than make up for the tedium.

The family prospered in Darine, and we lingered there for probably too many years. In 4071, Alten’s wife Ellette gave birth to a son, whom Alten insisted on naming Geran in honor of his grandfather. I didn’t really think that was a good idea, all things considered, but Alten was adamant. Davon continued to buy furs from Nadraks and occasional Drasnians, and Alten continued to convert those furs into garments that sold very well. Alnana died in 4077, and Davon went into a steep decline after her death. That’s more common than you might think. Sometimes grief will carry you off faster than any disease.

It was in the year 4080 that one of those itinerant pestilences which roamed the ancient world sprang up again in Darine, and it wiped out half the population, including Davon, Alten, and Ellette, who all died within a few hours of each other despite my best efforts to save them. That was one time when I didn’t flee from some inquisitive Murgo. I fled that disease instead. Immediately after the funeral, I closed up the house and the shop, took whatever money was lying around, and young Geran and I left Darine, going to – where else – the safety of my house by the lake.