Islands in the Sky

3.11

Sema went back to her boat, and sat on it for a while, thinking how strangely things were valued here. She had a boat, and she had well-made wardrobes too, but they were both worth more as firewood.

She supposed she understood why. She supposed it made sense, with the absence of trees, and the need to bring all the wood from elsewhere.

She thought about that. About trees, and where wood came from. About her boat, and how it was worth more as firewood than it was worth as a boat.

It was worth more as firewood, if it was here.

If it was here, at this dock, in this city.

Wood was worth nothing elsewhere, she thought. Wood was only worth something because of where it was. Because of the way it was transported around.

She thought. She thought carefully.

She began to wonder if she had an idea.

She stood up, and climbed back onto the dock, and walked down it to the dock manager’s house.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Oh,” the dock manager said, and made a surprised face.

Sema was confused for a moment, since she had walked right up to him and spoken, but then she understood. He was pretending. He was teasing her. Because this time she wasn’t sneaking past and he could see her, she supposed.

“Yes,” Sema said. “Hello. May I speak with you?”

“Have you made up your mind already?”

“Not yet. But I wondered. The other wood, the firewood which is so valuable. Where does that wood come from?”

The dock manager looked at her, as if he didn’t understand.

“You said wood had to be brought here,” Sema said. “To the city.”

“Yes,” he said.

“So where is it brought from?”

“From islands with trees.”

Sema nodded. That was obvious enough. So obvious she wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or not.

“But who by?” she said. That was the question she actually wished to ask.

The dock manager waved his hand at the docks all about them. “Ships,” he said. “Merchants.”

“They bring firewood from other islands?”

The dock manager nodded. “Among other things. All the other things.”

“Of course,” Sema said. She understood that. “But the islands. These are islands just anywhere? Islands anyone can go to?”

“I suppose they are,” the dock manager said. “As far as I know.”

Sema thought about that. She stood there for a moment, thinking, now almost certain that she had an idea. She looked at the dock manager, and decided it would be better to sit down. She crouched, so she was looking at him more easily. So she could speak a little more quietly, and a little more pleasantly.

“I wondered,” she said. “Why I could not go and fetch firewood, and bring it back here, and sell it? Perhaps sell it to you, to sell to other people, from here at the end of the dock, in exchange for a share of the trade?”

Now the dock manager was thinking too. He thought, and actually seemed interested for a moment. But then he shook his head. “The city needs a huge amount of firewood,” he said. “They bring it in shiploads. Not little boats like yours.”

“But a little load is still worthwhile,” Sema said. “If it is worth selling my boat for firewood.”

“Oh,” the dock manager said, and suddenly seemed less certain of his rebuff.

“A smaller load is just worth less, surely?” Sema said. “But still worth something?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“So it would be worth a few people buying it. A small number of people. For a small number of coins.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps.”

“And worth bringing here for those few coins,” Sema said. “Enough coins for you and I. Just not enough for big merchants and shipowners.”

The dock manager didn’t answer. He was staring at Sema. He seemed to be thinking quite carefully.

“So where does the firewood come from?” Sema said. “Where does it come from exactly. Who gets it? Who would know?”

“And I tell you for a share?” the dock manager said.

Sema nodded.

“A good share,” the dock manager said. “If I am to sell it for you.”

“A fair share, since I must go and get it, and bring it here. And you will be sitting here guarding the dock anyway, so it is no real inconvenience to you.”

The dock manager thought.

“Perhaps we can decide that later?” Sema said. “The actual shares. Once we know if this is even possible? Perhaps we can find out if such a thing as this is possible, and then decide the trade between us? Could we do that?”

The dock manager nodded. “Very well,” he said. He pointed down the dock, the other way from that Sema had gone earlier. “Quen Tosal,” he said. “The man’s name is Quen Tosal. Walk for ten minutes that away, and then ask someone where he is. He has a ship, and a warehouse. Ask someone down there, and they will know.”

Sema nodded, and stood up. “Thank you,” she said.

“And tell Quen Tosal I sent you,” the dock manager said.

Sema nodded. She thought she understood. The dock manager could get a share of the trade from her, and another from Quen Tosal. She understood, but she didn’t begrudge him that.

“Thank you,” Sema said again, and turned to leave.

The dock manager shrugged, losing interest again, Sema thought. “We shall see,” he said, calmly. “We shall see.”