"Name?"
"S- sorry?"
"The wonder, boy!" Marre slams his fist on the table. "What's the name of the wonder? Or did you think we were having a tea party here?"
His apprentice, a scrawny figure by the name of Telroe, apologises profusely, and spreads the list out on the desk.
"The Remnant Spreading."
A scribble as Marre makes a note. "Good. And what was it?"
"Human skeleton, uh, dating back to the- the time of Wonders. Dead, Kalef take them, before then, or at least during the tr- transition." Three months of this, and it still felt wrong to describe the fall of the Home Ceitu in such casual terms. He ploughs on regardless. "It was missing all bones between the hips and mid-chest, and they seemed to have been removed by a natural defect rather than any act of man. I asked the priests, and they say it used to be male. It was surrounded by a large quantity of rubble, which-"
They're cut off as Marre lets out a long, guttural sigh. "Boy, I don't know what you think you hope to accomplish here if you cannot follow simple instructions. I seem to recall asking you to describe the wonder to me, not reel off a list of details irrelevant to our goal. Now, might I trouble you to try again?"
"Y- yes, sorry. The wonder in question is a skeleton, missing the midsection, on which grows some kind of fungus — an unnatural growth, really — made of stone and metal in small amounts. The growth glows brightly, and expands irregularly to nearby materials. It's very thin, and it seems any small amount of pressure or disturbance is enough to damage it almost irreparably."
"Better. Poor, but better. Where is it now?"
"The skeleton lies at the camp. Small amounts of the growth are on carts with directions to head here."
"Get that skeleton next time you visit. 'Monopoly is the cornerstone of good business'".
The apprentice nods sagely, though they don't understand the words. 'Good business' was particularly confusing — to Telroe's knowledge, there hadn't been anything of the sort here for a very long time. Kalefheit, by and large, did not deal often in wonders, and whenever it did they were soon passed on with many a furtive glance and quickly-pocketed coinage. Still, Marre recited it often enough that it must be important.
"There were others I claimed, if you wish me to tell you them."
The merchant's eyes widen. "Say that again?"
"There were more wonders than just the skeleton that I claimed. Look, they're all here on the list."
"Under my name. You- you claimed the wonders under- oh Ceitu burn there must be half a dozen here! Not just normal, Uuklit, too! What in Abrit's domain were you thinking?"
"I asked the laws of the land, and the tribespeople told me anyone respected by the cityfolk as a merchant could take them, provided he left a seal as proof of his word."
"Oh gods, boy. Do you have any idea, even the faintest inkling of what you've done?"
"But you said-"
"I know what I said! I know full well what I bloody said! But I expected you to use your brain! Look around you!"
Telroe does so, and sees the same things as usual — bare wooden walls, threadbare tapestries and cloths hung from the beams and wound through the gaps in the planks, rickety shelving sparsely decorated with glitzy, dazzling nothings.
"You think, if I were 'respected by the cityfolk as a merchant', I'd be squatting in this craphouse, trading whatever the rich folk consider too drab and the poor too dangerous?"
"But you always say-"
"Advertising, boy! Of course I'm going to say I'm the greatest emporium of wonders this side of the new continent, but nobody with half a brain actually believes it."
He lets out a softer sigh, expelled from his lungs like a cloud of dust from a well-worn chair. He slumps backwards and stares at the ceiling, twirling the graphite rod between his fingers. "The trading laws of the tribes are complex, and breaking them is punishable by death. There's a world of difference between one and seven. Just read them to me, my eyes aren't as good as they used to be. And do it well, too — none of this bloody meandering nonsense."
"R- right. Sorry. The tribespeople call the second The Box of World."
"Worlds?"
"No, just the one. It's a metal box, which leads into a sort of maze. If the door's closed after you, you vanish. There are pipes inside that provide endless cold water."
"Useful. And it's back at the camp too?"
"Yes sir. Sorry."
"Mhm. Well, continue."
"The third is a wooden staff. They call it, uh, 'Illarth', which translates roughly to 'Force Bringer'. It can strike a man down with a single swing, and leave that man so broken that not even the Everman could bring them back."
Telroe was proud of that one. Truth be told, they hadn't seen the thing in action, and it looked shorter and more bulbous than any staff they'd seen before, but it was always wise to trust the tribesmen. They were usually right.
Marre had more pressing concerns, however. "This one, scribbled out."
"I- I-." Telroe stops, and takes a deep breath. "I am a demon, a thing of power, capable of invading the tongues of others with views to cause confusion and hatred among them." They duck as a letter-opener sails above them. "Sir, please!"
"You bring this darkness here? To me!?"
"I'm fine! I'm me, sir, Telroe, it's just-" They pause again. Choosing their words carefully, they press on. "Speech is… difficult. One cannot… talk, as if they were themselves. It's… not… dangerous?" He looks up at his master. Realisation settles like dust on his features.
"You mean to tell me that I-" Stop. "I-" Stop. "If I were to speak, my tongue would be twisted? Despite the great distance between me and myself-" Stop. "Me and… the camp? Attributes of myself, myself being a thing of influence over the mind, force this effect over any distance?"
Relief washes over the apprentice. "I do, sir."
"Well, despite the curious effects, which I'll admit would likely grant us considerable attention, it is probably for the best that you never brought… back from the camp… certain… objects?" A pause. "Yes. Probably for the best. Next?"
"Arm of Iron, a rusted limb that moves slightly on its own, and Glass Broken, some clear shards that defy the eye and mind."
"They can be held normally?"
"As far as I know, yes."
"Get them, and a small amount of good metal. Something brass or bronze. Find a blacksmith who can be trusted, and ask for a crown. Mount the shards."
"Why?"
"Glass Broken is good, but 'Strelnikov's Crown' is far better."
Telroe gapes. "You'd lie?"
"Embellish. We're trying to make money here, after all. There are two more wonders on the list that I can see. Pretend I am a customer. Describe them to me."
"Wood That Exudes-"
"Try again."
"Wood That-"
"Come on, 'noun that verbs' is two centuries out of date! I might be your only source of income for the next six months — impress me."
"Timber! From the Forest of Lita!"
"Good! Gods always get attention. What does it do?"
"Secretes a small quantity of sap, containing materials similar to whatever you press to its surface."
"Dull. I'd be out of here as quickly as possible if I were a customer. 'Not worth my time', I'd be saying. 'Barely even-'"
"Reproduces any substance at will!"
"Good, boy, good! Maybe a little too embellished, but we'll make a merchant of you yet!"
"And of course," says Telroe, getting into the swing of it, "we have the Sphere of- of Eternity. Wherever you go, whatever you do, the ball will follow; an artifact both mind-bending in its impossibility and, um… beautiful in its simplicity?" Telroe looks up hopefully. "I think it's stuck to a slave boy at the moment, but we should be able to barter for his life.
Marre grins, hoists himself to his feet, and pulls a bag of coins from the drawer of his desk. He places it in the hand of his apprentice and places his other hand on their shoulder.
"Go to the market. Hire three bodyguards, adept at swordplay. A mage too, if you can find one. Take the quickest cart heading to the ruins, and make sure you arrive in the early morning. Impressions are everything. Let the tallest guard do the talking, tell him to say you come from the city. Take the wood, the glass, the arm, the staff if you're careful and the skeleton if you can pack it well. The box as well — leave one of the guards to make room, if you have to. Give the tribespeople the remainder of the money, and if they ask you for collateral, offer to stay with them until I arrive with the rest of the payment. Don't make a fuss, but give as good as you get." He turns around and laughs, spreading his arms out as if to encompass the city through the grime-covered window. "Seven wonders! In all my life… Hah! I may not be respected right now, but by the gods I will be after this!"
The old merchant bustles Telroe out of the door, still chuckling to himself. "Get out there, boy. Get out there and make me my fortune!"