A Gift Named Sahalcha
When Pushan Hadaru put the question to him, Ugunai made his position plain.
"We must not accept Hwang Ga's offer. No Joseon merchant has ever set foot in this land of Jianzhou, and it should stay that way."
"Ah, so that's what's troubling you."
Pushan Hadaru shook his head with a faint grimace.
"Still, we do need goods ourselves. Here, Wumubin."
"Yes, Lord Pushan."
At his master's call, a gaunt man as thin as a skewer, wearing a scraggly goatee, answered. His voice was thin and high, and he dressed in Ming style. In truth, he was the only man in the room who was not a wild tribesman — the sole Ming native among them. True to his Chinese blood, he excelled at numbers and reckoning, so Pushan Hadaru kept him on as an accountant and made decent use of him.
Use of him, at least, was a generous word for it. In practice, he was treated as a handy servant.
"How much longer can we stretch what's left of our stock?"
Wumubin bowed his head and thought for a moment before giving his answer.
"By next month it will be difficult to go any further, Lord Pushan."
Pushan Hadaru shrugged as if to say, there, you see?
But Ugunai did not yield the ground.
"Hwang Ga will be no different. My lord, if we allow Hwang Ga to trade on this side of the Amnok River, it may not matter today — but it will matter tomorrow."
"No matter how many times Hwang Ga tries, he won't manage it in Jianzhou without our cooperation. You know that, don't you? Do you imagine there are chieftains who'd take in Joseon men? No — before that, could they even survive? Nine out of ten outside traders setting out for the first time from Hwangseongpyeong never come back, even when they're our own people. And a clueless Joseon man would fare better? To say nothing of—"
Pushan Hadaru swept his gaze around the room.
"You all saw him, didn't you? That strapping Joseon young master! I thought Hwang Ga had a good eye for people, but it seems I was wrong."
A chorus of dry, unsettling laughter rippled through the room.
Ugunai pressed his lips shut, visibly displeased.
He did not take Hwang Ga's cunning lightly. Temusi-i was certainly a green boy, but if Hwang Ga had singled him out, there had to be a reason. Still, he had no evidence that would convince Pushan Hadaru of the unease gnawing at him.
"So Hwang Ga wants to end this fight in exchange for our taking in that Joseon boy — Temusi-i, or whatever his name is. That's his wish, is it?"
"Then which territory will we give that Joseon boy?"
"Now that's a fine question."
Pushan Hadaru nodded at the question one of the merchants threw out.
"We can hardly hand over a good territory, can we? But since it's meant as a gift of reconciliation, we can't snub them outright either. No — we'll have to pick somewhere that looks profitable but is, in truth, hard to squeeze anything out of."
The men fell to thinking. Then someone spoke.
"What about Sahalcha, up in the northwest?"
"Sahalcha? Isn't that the place that used to yield fine sable pelts?"
"It is. But that's all ancient history now. The Sahalcha folk are famously difficult to please."
The merchants laughed.
The Jurchens were insular toward outsiders, but their relations with one another were scarcely better, tribe against tribe. Merchants who traveled from village to village were skilled at flattering everyone and made friends far and wide — yet even among them, the people of Sahalcha were notorious for their surly tempers and almost impossible to win over.
The trouble was that the goods of that land — black sable pelts and blue-sable pelts — were among the rarest and most expensive furs to be had.
"Besides, isn't Lee Man-ju planning to punish the Sahalcha people these days?"
"Ah... right, that's true."
Pushan Hadaru's expression darkened somewhat.
"I hear the Sahalcha folk failed to deliver their proper tribute, so the Elder is making an example of them. And as you all know, the sparks flew onto us too."
The merchants traded awkward coughs. They too paid hefty taxes to Lee Man-ju, and not long ago he had abruptly levied a special tax on them. He had revealed no reason for it, but the quick-eared among the merchants could guess: war funds for the campaign against Sahalcha.
"In any case — a snot-nosed boy treading carelessly into that ground will be struck by lightning before he knows it. Plenty of greenhorns have been swept into the fighting there and lost both their fortunes and their lives."
Pushan Hadaru grinned.
Even seasoned traders, lured by the promise of valuable pelts, came back from Sahalcha empty-handed after butting heads with the stony-hearted villagers. These days, a wrong step there was likely to get you stabbed. The fate of an inexperienced Joseon boy — an outright foreigner, no less — needed no oracle to divine.
"Whatever happens to the Joseon boy out there is his own affair, so Hwang Ga can hardly blame us for it. Very well! We'll give that friend Sahalcha."
Pushan Hadaru rendered his verdict. Even the cautious Ugunai raised no further objection. In his own judgment, even if Temusi-i had some uncanny talent, he could not guarantee the boy would come back alive, let alone turn a profit.
With the discussion concluded, Pushan Hadaru's party emerged from the inner chamber, and Pushan Hadaru put on a deliberately benevolent smile.
"Forgive us for keeping you waiting, Lord Hwang."
"Not at all, Lord Pushan."
Even as Hwang Ga answered in kind, he sensed something suspicious stirring beneath the surface. Did this pig eat something wrong in there? All of a sudden it's 'Lord' this and 'Lord' that. His eyes slid across the others. If the pig had eaten something wrong, it seemed he hadn't eaten it alone. Everyone except that fellow Ugunai was smirking.
"So. What have you decided?"
"We accept your proposal."
Pushan Hadaru said it with an air of studied dignity.
"However — there is a condition."
"And that is?"
"That friend of yours, Temusi-i. If he wants to trade in Hwangseongpyeong, he comes under us. Anyone just starting out in Hwangseongpyeong joins our association. He pays the entrance fee, too."
Hong-wi turned to look at Hwang Ga. Hwang Ga gave a small nod.
"Once you've entered another man's house, you follow the master's rules."
"Then we understand each other."
Pushan Hadaru grinned widely.
"And even if you plant someone other than this friend, Lord Hwang, you'll consult with our people each time you do it."
"Of course."
"Now, to the heart of the matter. If we take this friend in, what do we get in return?"
"Our goods, same as ever, will be handed over to you."
"Is that all?"
"Looked at properly, isn't it a fine arrangement? You lose the middleman skimming his cut off the top. I can't say how much Solgo pocketed between us, but—"
"Only if you don't use your new monopoly as an excuse to raise your prices."
Ugunai cut in with the rejoinder.
"We can't take a beating every time either — our own mouths have to be fed, you know. And if we're unlucky enough to get caught by the authorities, the loss falls squarely on us."
"That's your problem, not mine."
The standoff tightened once more. It was Pushan Hadaru who extended his hand first.
"If it's a reasonable margin, we can let it pass. But taking Solgo's business away and then expecting everything to stay exactly as before — that's crossing the line. As you said yourself, you've swept away the middleman, so if you quote the same price as ever, where's the fun in that for us?"
"Then I'll guarantee a special discount of up to five percent off the old price."
Pushan Hadaru shook his head.
"You'll cut twenty percent. How am I to know when you'll quietly sneak your prices up? And whatever happens along the way, you will not use it as a pretext to raise them."
Hwang Ga shook his head in turn.
"Rather than that, I'd sooner fold the whole business. Smuggling is a trade where you can't see one step ahead, no? The expenses pile up something fierce. You, of all people, could reap a windfall as easily as not, depending on how you play it."
"Tut, a windfall. We get fleeced by chieftains left and right, and paying tribute up the line gives me headaches. Not to mention the cost of guarding against bandits."
The two men's bickering dragged on for a while. It was a pointless exchange — neither had any business knowing the other's grievances. If Hwang Ga ran at a loss, it was nothing to Pushan Hadaru, and the reverse held just as true. Businessmen, after all, knew better than anyone that there was no need to worry on a businessman's behalf.
"Seven percent off the old price. And if prices ever need to rise, we renegotiate."
Pushan Hadaru answered Hwang Ga's offer flatly.
"Fifteen percent off. Renegotiations as they come."
"How about ten?"
Pushan Hadaru brought his fist down. The bargain was struck.
"That settled — Temusi-i, was it? Where will you place this friend? We barely scrape by feeding our own people as it is; taking in a new one is no light burden."
"Jianzhou is wide, wide land. There's room enough for one more caravan to drive in, surely."
At Hwang Ga's retort, Pushan Hadaru curled his lips into a mischievous smile.
"Well, there may be... As it happens, a seat has just opened up in Sahalcha."
"Sahalcha."
Hwang Ga fell into thought.
"Isn't that quite a journey north?"
Pushan Hadaru nodded.
"You have to head northwest to reach it. The roads are rough — but play your cards right, and even a newcomer could turn an easy profit there. It's a country that yields fine black sable pelts and blue-sable pelts."
"Is that so."
Hwang Ga's brow creased. Black sable pelts and blue-sable pelts — among all animal furs, these were extraordinarily precious. He too had long heard of the pelts that came out of Sahalcha. Yet for the past several years, for whatever reason, they had been all but impossible to lay eyes on in Hwangseongpyeong.
"And you'd introduce this friend to such a honey pot. How very generous of you."
"It's merely a proposal. If he'd rather go elsewhere, I won't stop him."
"I'll bear it in mind."
Hong-wi answered. Pushan Hadaru gave a thin chuckle.
"He speaks our tongue tolerably well, but his manner of speech is truly peculiar. The Sahalcha folk get called peculiar a great deal too, you know. I'm sure they'll treat him well."
The mockery fairly dripped from Pushan Hadaru's words.
"But even the most seasoned merchants find no profit there these days. Coming out with nothing but your life would be the lucky outcome — losing it is easy enough. If your life means anything to you, you'd do well to turn back now."
"Your counsel is most appreciated."
Hong-wi parried with an easy eloquence. Pushan Hadaru let out a laugh — a snort, perhaps, or something between the two.
"You'll need guides and porters, I expect? Since you're joining our association, I'll arrange capable men for you."
Pushan Hadaru said it as though dispensing charity.
"That would be welcome."
"Now that the matter's settled, let's all share a cup."
Pushan Hadaru personally filled the cups brimming and passed them to Hwang Ga and Hong-wi. They clinked their cups together readily enough, but each was entertaining thoughts of his own. Hwang Ga was already turning over the shape of his future business, while Pushan Hadaru wore a fat grin, busy devising ways to put Hong-wi through the wringer.
Spring was only just ripening into its fullness.
Hong-wi and his party set to work organizing the caravan. The goods for trade were not hard to come by. The supplies Hwang Ga had stockpiled in Hwangseongpyeong over the winter were considerable indeed: grain with rice at its head, salt, and a wealth of practical necessities — cloth, farming tools, and more.
The wild tribes, cursed with barren soil and poor farming technique besides, were always short of food, and with the hungry spring upon them, grain would sell anywhere. Salt, too, was indispensable not only for cooking but for raising livestock, and inland regions struggled to obtain it. Bulky and heavy it might be, but in the hands of a capable trader it could yield a handsome profit. The other necessities might not have commanded much value in Joseon, yet in this land of scant productivity they would sell like wildfire.
"Just like in Joseon, food runs short here every spring — only worse, since the soil is so lean. In Joseon there are at least the relief granaries to fall back on, but here such a thing could never exist. So time your sales to the season. Around the fourth or fifth month, and it's a sure thing."
It was Hwang Ga who offered the advice — he had spent his boyhood in the wild lands, near the Amnok River though it was.
"Aiming for the fourth or fifth month sounds ideal. That's when the hunger season bites hardest, so even if the Sahalcha folk recoil from outsiders, it should be fine."
"No doubt you're right."
Hong-wi and Hwang Ga settled the list of goods to be traded together.
"All of these supplies, for now, I'll lend to you."
"Thank you."
"Thank me nothing. This is simply an investment."
Hwang Ga gave a dry snort.
"Pushan said he'll prepare the guides and porters. I don't know whether the men he introduces will be any good... but here we've no choice but to trust him."
"Do you think he'll try something?"
At Hong-wi's question, Hwang Ga shrugged.
"He might. If that man were wishing for your success, Temusi-i, then I'm the King of Joseon."
Hearing that, Ho-in flinched.
"But he won't play it too dirty. This is a matter of trust. Still, steel yourself. Call them guides and porters, they're wild tribesmen all the same — set an inexperienced Joseon merchant among them, and they'll try to eat him alive."
"How exciting."
Hong-wi smiled faintly.
"Exciting, he says... We'll need to secure packhorses and weapons separately. Good ones have been hard to come by lately, so we'll have to bring them in from Joseon as well."
"Weapons, perhaps — but surely horses can't be hard to find in this land of the wild tribes?"
Hong-wi asked. The wild lands were famous far and wide as a country of horses.