Face of Glass

3: The Merchant

All eyes were on the Steelman. It was not just the shoes on the man’s feet that demanded attention, but his whole costume. He was wrapped in a peculiar cloth, densely woven and stained with strange colours. There was no trace of grass or reed to be seen, though fur and hide fringed his garments. On his fingers and his ears and at his shoulder there were ornaments of gold. All eyes were on this man, but it was not he who spoke.

“Oltak of the Red Turtle greets you kindly.” The speaker sat behind the Steelman, but his dress suggested that he was another tribesman. Nevertheless, his accent sounded foreign. ParuMe couldn’t place it: he might have been from the far south of the island, or maybe even from different shores altogether. “He greets you, SutaKe the Immortal, and he greets your people. He hopes his visit finds you well.”

“This is kind indeed.” SutaKe picked up a wooden bowl from the floor. ParuMe saw that it was filled with sweet nuts. SutaKe passed the bowl to Oltak, who took a nut and passed it on to SiloKa. Oltak put the nut in his mouth only when the warrior beside him had also eaten from the bowl. The nuts travelled the ring of warriors, and ParuMe realised that it would soon be passed to him. He could see no reason why he should not take one when so often he and KanaKa had shared one plate. Indeed, it seemed likely that to refuse would cause offence. Still, he glanced out through the door of the Great Hut. HanaRa was sitting on the ground, far away, staring back. She nodded and mimed eating. The bowl came. ParuMe took a nut and passed it on. Nothing was said.

“You must have travelled a great distance to make this visit, Oltak of the Red Turtle.” SutaKe spoke to the Steelman himself, though ParuMe was sure only the interpreter could understand him. “Have you come to trade?”

The interpreter passed the question on. Oltak whispered back an answer, loudly enough for ParuMe to note the odd, guttural quality of his speech. It was incomprehensible to him.

“Yes,” replied the interpreter. “Oltak of the Red Turtle has great things to barter, many great things. He thinks you will be pleased with what he offers.”

“This is good.” SutaKe took a cup of cold herb tea from the floor and passed it to Oltak, as he had with the nuts. ParuMe watched. This time, the Steelman could not wait until SiloKa had tasted first, but to refuse would dishonour the chief. Without hesitation, he took a sip and passed the cup on. Not so wary, then, ParuMe thought. But as the cup approached him, ParuMe wondered what to do. Not once had he drunk from the same vessel as KanaKa. He looked to HanaRa for support.

“No,” she waved. “No.”

ParuMe passed the cup on without drinking. Nothing was said.

The cup was returned to SutaKe. “Now,” he said, setting it on the ground once more. “Let us hear the details of your trade.”

The interpreter looked to Oltak for a response. “Oltak of the Red Turtle has travelled a great distance indeed. As you may know, he comes from a vast land to the North—a truly vast land—where there is great prosperity. Bountiful fields stretch out to the horizon and beyond in all directions. The people there build their homes out of the very earth, cool in the sun and strong against rain, though there the weather is always mild. I have seen it with my own eyes: this is a marvellous place.”

“Yes,” said SutaKe. “Such people must have a great deal to offer in trade.”

“They do.” The interpreter nodded. “Yet for all their prosperity, there are things they lack. The Red Turtle was moored on your island once before, and Oltak wondered at the things that grew here. He wondered at the spices and herbs, the sweet fruits and rich nuts. He was amazed by what your people could coax from the land. He remembers you.” The interpreter gestured to the chieftain’s obsidian mask, drawing his fingers back to his own face and looking at Oltak. The Steelman smiled and nodded in recognition.