Chapter 10

A Salty Conversation

Rance awoke with traces of light in the east. He had been an early riser since his drill instructors had started banging trash cans and flipping bunks at 0 dark thirty during basic. He liked to think he was quick to learn, and this lesson had stuck with him.

He had mostly slept through the night. Once there was a snuffling sound outside his corral that sounded suspiciously like a bear. Rance had clapped, whistled and yelled “Hey bear” a few times until he heard some branches breaking headed away from his camp. That was the only thing that had disturbed his sleep.

The super shelter had done exactly as intended. Provided a barrier between his sleeping area and anything wandering by. If something tried climbing over it was sure to wake him and he would be ready to respond.

He nursed the few coals left in his fire to life again and set his pot of water to boil. He stepped out of the shelter with his staff and took care of his morning necessaries. He walked around the outside of his shelter while stretching his shoulders and twisting his waist.

He did this until he ended up in front of the spruce he had picked for his morning sparring session. He set his feet, adjusted his balance, and began, one, two, three…

His water was boiling when he felt he had done enough and returned to his fire. He took it off the fire and set it aside. He then took some of the willow bark from the sticks he had cut the night before and added them to the tea.

He knew willow bark contains salicin which is very similar to aspirin. His fingers had been a little achy the night before from working with milkweed cordage, and he wanted to treat any pain he might feel from the work out he had just finished. He knew it was probably psychosomatic, but he felt better treating himself in a way he understood at this point. Besides it was a healing herb and the system was clear that having it in his system would help in many ways.

As he sat sipping his tea and watching the sun clear the ridge to the east, he thought about what his next move should be. He ticked off a couple things to himself.

“One, the tools I have right now suck. I could make my own tools if I were in the real world, but I had spent many years learning the skills to do that. So anything I make right now won’t be any better and probably worse than what I already have.”

This was an issue he had mulled over while he was falling asleep the night before.

“And Two. My pack slots are mostly full, and it only took me a couple hours to fill them.”

With these two facts out there, while he wanted to stay and work on his skills Rance knew his best course of action would be to head into town and find out if he could sell anything he had gotten so far, and then find out what sorts of things he could buy.

Rance finished his tea and put the pot back on the fire.

“Might as well get some grub on the inside before I go.” He said

He took out his knife and some of his remaining pheasant back mushrooms and started shaving off slices into the pot as thin as the dull knife would allow. He added a little onion and garlic for flavor and a few more various wild greens for color, and let it simmer while he got ready to go into town.

He laid out the oil skin covering where he slept and emptied the main pouch of both packs onto it. He then rolled up the oil cloth he slept on top of with both blankets inside and put it in one of the packs. Next he added the spare knife to the pack along with one fire kit and one water skin. He put all ten coppers into one pouch and slipped it into his pack.

He stopped when his little pot of soup was ready. He sipped and chewed on this basic food hoping he would get better soon.

When he was done he added the pot to the pile and wrapped the whole thing up inside the oilskin. He carried it several yards away out of sight of the shelter and piled some branches on top of it and then added some leaves. It wasn’t perfect he knew but it didn’t stick out like a sore thumb either.

It was mid morning when Rance hitched up his packs, picked up his staff and headed down the valley toward Westerveldt. He remembered to include his digging stick in his pack since he planned on filling his two remaining slots on the way into town.

Rance concentrated on wild garlic and wild onion on his trek back. To most people they tended to look the same. Rance knew that wild garlic had hollow round stems while wild onions had solid mostly oval stems. In their wild state however most people used them interchangeably. He certainly had in his soup the last two days.

He saw several that had the flowering head on them but they hadn’t opened yet. These “scapes” were a delicacy fried in butter, but he wasn’t sure Otherworld would see it like that so he left them for later. Besides, his eight slots were now full.

With the sun shining and a myriad of birds flitting from branch to branch around him, Rance felt his spirits buoyed as he walked. He was actually whistling a Jaunty tune when he turned toward town when he came to the river road.

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His mood was lowered somewhat by the looks he received from others traveling the road.

“One more thing for the list,” he thought. “New clothes.”

Vevor was nowhere to be seen as Rance walked through the gate. He heard the banging of a hammer on an anvil coming from behind the livery as he walked up the main street to the square. “Curious,” he thought “I would have sworn there was a blacksmith in the square.”

When he made it to the square he saw that he had remembered correctly, there was a blacksmith here as well.

Rance had been trying to decide what to do first, sell his goods to Beulla or check out what the chandlery and blacksmith had to offer for sale. He decided on the chandlery first and stepped up and through the door.

The walls of the shop were lined with shelves. To the left; there were cubby holes along the whole wall with candles stacked within. Every couple of feet across the wall there was a scone with an unlighted candle in it. Each sconce held a different size or color of candle.

On the right the shelves were larger and held what looked like bundles of various types of wicking. There were also containers that were labels “Tallow Deer” and “Tallow Sheep” among several other types.

The back wall shelves were split by a doorway into a back room and was fronted by a counter. The upper shelves contained oil lamps ranging from mostly cheap basic looking models to three or four that appeared very fancy. There appeared to containers of lamp oil on the lower shelves, and several spare globes off to one side.

A grey haired man with small spectacles looked up from polishing one of these globes with a rag. He looked Rance up and down, and frowned.

“I don’t be needin’ no trouble from your kind.” He said.

“I seem to be turned around.” Rance said. “Is this all you sell?”

“You daft boy?” He said, voice rising “What do you think a Chandlery sells?”

“I..I..I’m sorry.” Rance stuttered a little taken aback by the hostility. “I always thought a chandlery was a sort of general store.”

“Well it aint! Try the general store. Now GIT!”

Rance put up his hands in a placating manner and backed out of the door.

Shaking his head he turned to the tavern. At least Beulla and Vevor had been sort of welcoming.

The first thing he noticed as he entered the tavern was the wave of sound and that it was mostly full. Almost every seat was taken with people eating and talking. “Must be noon day rush,” Rance thought.

He found a seat near the small stage and set his packs down against the wall and leaned his staff by them. He caught Bella’s eye and she came over when she got a free moment.

“Ya got any more rabbits for me?” She asked.

“Not this trip,” Rance answered “But I do have a couple things you asked for. Can I get a bowl of something and water to drink?”

“I’ll get back ‘round to ya in a bit.” With that she turned her back on him and made another round of the room, filling ales and taking away empty bowls that once held the mid-day meal.

The crowd thinned as Rance sat waiting on his meal. “Must have timed it right at the end of lunch rush.” He thought.

The tavern had almost emptied when Beulla plopped down a bowl of gruel and a mug of tepid water. “Thank you.” Rance said. He was determined to keep up his manners even if those about him were rude or crude.

Beulla had made it back behind the bar when the front door slammed open and a voice rang out. “Beulla! An ale and a bowl of slop!” Vevor had arrived.

Vevor noticed Rance right away and pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. “Back to town already? I figured as much.” He said in a gruff voice. “I suppose you be headed out on the next supply train to somewheres less rustic.” A sarcastic smile breaking across his face.

“Why would I do that?” Rance said after he slurped a spoonful of porridge. “Uhg needs salt,” he thought. “Buella” he said looking at her “Do you happen to have some salt?”

“Aye” she replied as she set an ale and bowl in front of Vevor, “but it’ll cost ya.”

“How much?”

“Extra copper.”

“Well Crap!” Rance said “I guess I’ll take some.” He said after he thought about it and realized a copper was the smallest unit of exchange.” Rance filed away in his mind that salt was a semi-rare commodity in this area. He couldn’t do anything about it now but it may turn into a future opportunity.

“Most of your kind move on pretty quickly once they spend a night or two on the frontier.” Vevor answered his question from earlier. “Even if they spend the coin to rent a room from Buella here, they are usually headed out of town on the next supply run.”

Beulla set a small wooden container with a lid in front of Rance. “Only a pinch now, ya hear?” she said with a scowl.

Rance took the container, unscrewed the lid and looked inside. It contained a dirty translucent grey sand-like material. He set the container and lid on the table, dipped his fingers in and took out a pinch of the “Salt”.

Beulla snatched up the container almost before his fingers had cleared the rim. She turned away muttering as she screwed the lid back on.

Rance placed the pinch of salt in his left palm and tapped his fingers there to get the clinging substance off. He then licked the two fingers he had used to pick up the salt.

“MMMMM” he said, surprised. “Good”

“Course it’s good you chowderhead.” Beulla grumped

Rance looked more closely at the salt in his palm. It looked like the Celtic Grey sea salt he had seen on the shelf of the health food store back home. He sprinkled it into his gruel and stirred it around. This time when he took a bite the taste had improved manyfold.

“Oh, that's so much better.” He said “It’s still gruel, but it tastes a lot better now.”

“If you’re done wastin’ money I some questions for you.” Vevor started to say.

“Wasting money?”

“Spending an extra copper on salt.” Vevor said “Unless you got coppers to spare.”

“Have you tasted that,” Rance said pointing with his spoon to Vevor’s own bowl of gruel. “With any salt?”

“Well…no”

“Here” Rance said, pushing his bowl forward. “Free taste.”

Vevor reached out with his spoon and shoveled a heap of gruel into his mouth. Staring Rance in the eye while he did it. Rance saw the change come over Vevor has he met his gaze.

“Buella!” Vevor roared pounding on the table. ”Bring me that damn salt!”