The Crossroads of Trade: Into Istanbul

I opened a stall in the heart of the market and put the slaves on display.

The ones I had been feeding and bedding down until they recovered were, for the most part, in decent shape. A few still bore the scars of blades—cuts, punctures—but a mark or two on a male slave hardly knocked the price down in any serious way. If anything, the steady meals and the rest had put flesh back on their faces, and that made the haggling go easier.

Marco's voice carried over the crowd.

"Have a look here. This one's in prime condition, I tell you. Still in his twenties. Thirty? Anyone with eyes can see he's in his twenties. Look at the skin. Check the teeth. Thirty—don't be absurd. Among men in their twenties, goods like these at this price are not easy to come by."

"This one was taken in the chaos of war. And what does that mean? It means he has combat experience. As you well know, what are the odds a slave-soldier comes back from a war alive? Yet here he stands, perfectly whole—which can only mean he received the blessing of the merciful God of Zahed. A lucky slave under divine protection. That's exactly how you ought to see him."

Slaves on display, the sales pitch, the arithmetic, and—whenever the air hinted the price might still climb—the haggling itself. Marco carried three roles, four, all by himself, and made it look easy.

Once he closed a deal, handing the sold slave over and dragging a fresh one out for display fell to IS-1 and IS-2, the women, and Maximus, who held the post of head slave.

Marco ran the work on his own initiative, so there was little left for me to do. I only had to stand off to the side and watch, then take the payment when a sale closed and hand back the change. Even that, though, demanded I keep my wits sharp. The slaves were selling like wildfire.

"Thirteen gold."

"Ah, yes. You bought him at twelve gold and eighty-five silver, so here's fifteen silver back. Have a fine day. Haha."

"Ah, yes. What? A discount? Marco—did you tell this gentleman we'd discount him? Ah, three of them at once. Yes, of course we should. Haha. Then forty gold for the three together. That's right."

In a single day I sold more than a hundred slaves. Total takings came to 1,575 gold—seventy-eight kilograms in pure gold alone. The magic pouch that held the coins felt heavy in the hand, though of course it nullified weight, so it couldn't truly have.

I closed out the first day's trade and returned to camp.

"No one comes in for a while."

I sent the women off and stepped alone into the sleeping tent. I dropped onto the carpet spread over the floor and turned the magic pouch upside down.

"All the gold coins. Out."

Through the gaping mouth, thick gold coins came tumbling in a rush. They chimed without end—ching, ching, ching—and heaped themselves high upon the carpet.

How much is all of this?

I began stacking the coins myself, ten to a tower, and lining the towers out across the floor. One, two, three… twenty-six, twenty-seven… a hundred fifty-seven, a hundred fifty-eight… At last the final tower was finished. Set down in straight rows and columns, they numbered more than a hundred and ninety.

One thousand nine hundred and twenty-eight gold in all.

Riding that high, I took stock of what I had left—something I hadn't done in a long while.

Even counting the gold coins alone—

God.

In Earth money, that was 10.604 billion won. It had not yet been two months since I started crossing into the other world. Fold in the side income and the assets I already held on Earth, and the books looked like this.

A sum with no reality to it. I could already quit any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠job, buy a decent building, and spend the rest of my life idling on the rent. Every office worker's dream was no longer a mere wish. It had simply become one option among others—and the thought that I was the one who had done it set my heart hammering. The excitement would not come down.

I gathered the coins again and stepped out of the tent, then called for the man who had worked hardest of all.

"Marco."

"Yes, Guildmaster."

"We ought to settle up as well."

"What? You mean right this moment?"

"Yes. Here. Take it."

I passed him a small pouch holding twenty gold coins. Small, but heavy. Marco took it, and a smile broke across his whole face. Twenty gold was about what it would cost to keep a small merchant house running—earn that much, and you were doing well. Set against the wages of his days with the Modric Caravan, it came to nearly fifteen years' pay.

"Thank you, Guildmaster. Thank you."

"Just keep on like this. I'll see that your bonuses stay fat."

"Yes. Tomorrow I'll sell even harder."

"Good. And I'll have somewhere to be in the morning, so you're in charge. Manage things properly."

"What? Ah—yes. Understood."

I was going back to Earth, but there was no need to spell that out. Marco would simply assume that, mage that I was, I had secrets of my own.

I ate supper and turned in early.

The next morning I set out with five of them: IS-1, IS-2, Maximus, and Trainers One and Two. I drove the Humvee out of Harpeon, and once we were clear of the holy capital I set a course northeast and opened up the speed.

Vroooom—!

We ran the imperial road, then at some point peeled off into the forest. Better a place where people seldom set foot. For about an hour I climbed with the wheels crushing grass, until I found ground fit to hide the Humvee. A bulging rock made a roof overhead, and brush grown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up on either side screened the view. I nosed the vehicle in underneath, pulled a camouflage net from the trunk, and covered it.

I left the work to the slaves and checked a map of Earth on the smart pad. Somewhere around Polonezköy Nature Park, more or less. After a look at the surroundings, I called Aphago.

"Time to cross."

"Then I shall open it."

A moment later a dimensional gate shimmered before my eyes, a silver curtain rippling in the air. The camouflage work finished just in time. As a test, I sent IS-1 through first. He passed the gate and came back a short while later.

"No sign of anyone on the other side. Just forest."

"Then we cross."

I walked through the gate. As expected, we came out deep in a nature park thick with trees. I had Aphago log the point, then we walked out of the park on foot. It ran about two kilometers across, and opening time had not yet come, so people were scarce. After roughly an hour on foot I reached the roadside, caught a taxi, and headed for the city.

Once we were inside Istanbul I opened a phone line first, then rented two vehicles: a compact luxury Mercedes van that could move the whole party, and a full-size Lincoln SUV. They sat in the premium tier, so the rates stung, but the more money you appear to have, the fewer nuisances come calling.

I drove the rented SUV on to a department store in the heart of the city. I was already dressed in clothes I had brought from Earth, but I bought a fine suit in the luxury section and put it on. I meant to fit Maximus as well, but a height near two meters and a frame built like a wall made that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠impossible off the rack. Instead I had him measured, ordered a custom suit, and left the store.

Vehicle, communications, clothes—those were settled. Now it was time to set the business up in earnest.

The first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stop was a law office downtown. I chose a firm housed in a building that looked expensive from the street and went in. The staff welcomed me warmly: a man in a designer suit, with what were plainly retainers filing in behind him.

The office was done in a clean modern style. I sat across a table from the lawyer, and the slaves stood at my back like a folding screen, glaring at the man in front of me. Meeting those eyes, he swallowed a tension that had risen for no good reason.

What kind of people are these?

He kept it off his face and asked, all courtesy.

"Yes. What brings you in?"

"I work in mining and trade. I move between the Middle East and Europe."

"Ah. I see."

"I'm looking to extend the business as far as Istanbul, and I mean to leave the petty matters in your hands."

"Petty matters, you say…"

"Renting an office and a house, to start. The legal work. Business registration. That sort of thing."

Renting an office and a residence was something a specialist property firm could have handled perfectly well. Go that route, though, and the things I would have to mind would multiply, the hours spent would multiply with them, and that much less time would be left for my own work. Putting a lawyer in the middle was simply a way to cut the waste. I also had cash enough to dump the tedious parts on someone else.

The awkward seat, in this arrangement, belonged to the lawyer. It is not easy to confirm whether the other party can actually pay a fee, or whether his identity is solid—and harder still when he is not a citizen, but a foreigner. The man worried in silence.

Judging by the clothes, he doesn't look like the sort of bastard who'd play games and lie. But what the hell does this operator even do? Can I trust him? He won't set me to work and then vanish without a word, will he?

I knew very well what he was fretting over. And I settled the fret simply.

"Well. If we want this easy on both of us, it's better I put a deposit down in advance. Wouldn't you agree?"

At the word deposit, the lawyer brightened.

"Ah! Yes, of course. A deposit would, first of all…"

Before he could finish sizing up the figure, I threw the number at him.

"One hundred thousand. I'll pay in euros. Fees after that, we settle each quarter. How does that suit you? When I go in to do business, it sometimes takes months."

At one hundred thousand euros, the lawyer's eyes widened. That was roughly a full year of his own income.

"Maximus."

Maximus came forward with the bag he had been carrying and opened it. It was packed with bundles of cash, and the lawyer's eyes went wider still. A fortune of a million euros at least, stacked neat inside.

That startled face made my shoulders lift for no particular reason. So this is how rich men feel.

I drew out ten bundles—ten thousand euros apiece—and set them down in front of him on the spot.

"Consider the deposit paid with this, for now. Next—and this is the first request—let's change some money."

The lawyer nodded and hurried back with a contract. With the difficult problem out of the way, the retainer was signed in one smooth rush.