The next day, we were back in Covehold bright and early to see the procession of small boats coming down the river and heading out of the bay towards the sea. While the sun was still on the horizon, individual boats were already coming in a steady stream from the river, most using oars and the current to propel themselves, although I saw a few boats where it looked like a Whisperer—or maybe a Mentalist?—was doing the work of moving the vessel around.

There were a few boats docked in the newer docks that Ravia had called the Rickets. From the crowds of people around what looked like carts, they were either there to eat a quick breakfast of whatever was being served or to buy lunch for later.

The older, stone-built docks were still empty, but there was some activity at the warehouses fronting them. As I had learned last time we were at Covehold, the warehouses were where the trade goods of the ships coming in from the old continent were stored, along with the goods they would be coming to pick up. Yhorj guided the Coldhold towards those docks as I sat on the roof of the cabin, trying to spot Ravia, or at least any sign he was already there. The level of the water was low, but we'd managed last time, so it shouldn't be all that different now.

Fortunately, none of the smaller boats approached us. Perhaps they wanted to get as much work done before it got hot, or get as far out while the waves were still relatively calm. Maybe they had favorite spots they wanted to get to.

At last, I saw movement at the little building that passed for the dockmaster's office. There were carts coming in, being pulled by pairs of men, with another pair pushing from behind. These carts were full, however, and as I watched they headed towards one of the warehouses near the middle of the line. Early morning was when most of the cart and wagon deliveries around the town were done, because that was when there were the least people on the streets. It was apparently a very small window, because if people were waking up to do deliveries they were waking up to go to work, but those people generally moved in the same direction as the carts, so it all worked out. It was later when people went to market or left their houses to loiter in the relative cool of the streets that they became congested.

I kept looking towards the dockmaster's office, but there didn't seem to be anyone else but more of those carts. The wide front door of a warehouse was opened, and the first cart entered, presumably to start unloading so that their goods would be ready to get picked up when a ship from the old continent arrived. It was hard to tell what the contents were—the carts had high sides, presumably to keep things from rolling off—but I knew that the most common product sent back to the old continent for beads were seel furs, because they could be washed regularly enough that they weren't damage by the transoceanic voyage. The price for the furs was, according to Lori when I had brought it up once, artificially inflated because of its relative rarity of coming from the new continent, which apparently appealed to people with 'more beads than brains' as she had put it.

As someone who'd never owned anything with fur on it—down-stuffed was much easier to clean, in my opinion—I didn't know whether or not there was enough of a qualitative difference between old continent seel fur and new continent seel fur for there to be some kind of basis on the price. If there wasn't, could a Deadspeaker just… do something to the old continent seels before skinning to fix it?

My musings on the seel fur market were interrupted as I saw someone waving to us from the stone docks. His clothes were dyed, which—oh, that was Ravia! "Yhorj, head for the dock," I called down as I waved back to acknowledge I'd seen him. "Take us to that one where they're waving, he's the one we're meeting. "

"Yes, L—er, Rian! Heading to the dock!"

"Everyone else, get the things ready to move out, we're going to be unloading soon." Ravia should have brought his own containers for the salts since we needed our barrels. I'd made sure that was understood in our discussion yesterday, but… well, things happen.

By the time we were drawing close to the dock Ravi was standing near, he'd been joined by someone wearing a wide-brimmed reed hat with a band of cord wrapped around it. It was a cheap, simple, and in combination with the hat a practical means of denoting position. I wondered if it was something from one of the demesnes in the old continent—despite the scarcity of oceanic travel, there was river boats and river trade—or just something they'd made up here.

"Hey, Ravia," I called once we were close enough. "Sorry, I didn't recognize it was you!"

"Perfectly fine, Rian," Ravia said. "The dockmaster says you can moor here, though we'll need to secure your boat."

"Don't worry, we remember. Hello, Yhoe! Nice to see you again!"

The dockmaster blinked in surprise that I'd remembered his name, but looked pleased nonetheless. "Master Rian, was it? I'm afraid you have to pay a berthing fee if you're going to dock."

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"Don't worry, I know," I said. "I remember from last time. Is the price and duration still the same?" At his nod, I called out, "I'll have the beads ready, though I'll need you to change a few."

At his nod, I went down to get some beads from the stash I'd put together from yesterday's adventure in street-level mercantilism. I'd only had twelve of Lori's wispbeads on me yesterday so that my belt pouch would still lie relatively flat under my shirt. After I'd figured out how to not have to give a free sample in the later workshops, I'd been able to sell all the beads for a total of four large small-mid denomination beads and a small mid-large denomination bead. I didn't recognize the name of the demesne the beads were cast—I'd never heard of Iliari Demesne—but they had a little Taniar Banking Authority mark on their bead, so that meant they were value regulated, and even as I thought that my brain began to ache, so I stopped thinking about it.

The berthing fee wasn't very expensive, but it was still a lot when one literally had no beads that were accepted as currency, hence all the jumping and climbing yesterday. The fee was mostly so that when the trading ships came—they'd probably already had some as soon as summer started, which reminded me I needed to talk to the local factor of the Golden Sweetwood Company—they wouldn't just occupy the dock indefinitely. After all, no one built such an extensive and sturdy stone dock to deal with a handful of ships a year. When we'd left, trans-oceanic shipbuilding and shipping was a growing industry. One that had a high mortality rate as centuries of strictly riverine experience was finding that their institutional knowledge couldn't be completely applied to the ocean.

Said the man who had gone to sea on a riverboat made of ice.

The still-low tide meant that the dock we were berthing next to was more level with the roof of the cabin then the main deck. While that would change later, we would lose a lot of daylight if we waited that long, and Ravia no doubt had other things to do. So once the ship was secured properly—not just with one mooring rope but several so it wouldn't drift too close or to too far from the dock—the dock's gangplank was secured to the roof of our cabin. The heavy wooden support beams would be strong enough to bear the weight of the traffic, but we'd have to secure the gangplank to the deck later when the water rose again.

The men began bringing up the cargo. Skins and furs were first, passed along in a relay line until they were deposited onto the cart that Ravia had brought along while I paid for the berthing fee. It took most of the beads I'd managed to get yesterday, but that was fine. We would be getting more from our contract with Ravia.

"Sorry I can't give you a tour right now," I said as the men emptied the hold of the skins. "But once the hatch is clear we can go and have a look."

"I look forward to it," Ravia said, looking at the boat with great interest. "How do you propel it? Even for a Whisperer, something of this size would be prohibitively difficult."

"Our Dungeon Binder had some ideas, which they keep imbued constantly," I said vaguely. "I'm not a wizard, so I don't really understand, but it works as long as we only do what they told us to."

Ravia blinked. "Your Dungeon Binder is directly imbuing your boat?"

"How do you think we keep it from melting?"

The merchant stared at the boat. "But… how…?"

"They didn't explain," I said, giving him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I really can't tell you anymore. Our Dungeon Binder isn't really the kind who tells me what they're doing, they just do it. Do you know the type?"

Ravia snorted. "I'm familiar with it. Well, I suppose they need to get their amusement somehow."

I nodded. "By the way, do you have an appointment after this? I wanted to talk to you about something that might be of profit for both of us."

"Nothing I can't put off a little, provided I had good reason…" Ravia said.

I took a deep breath. "How would you like to be our partner in being the distributor for a new product that will likely be in high demand?"

"I'd tell you I'd like to, but every few weeks some demesne or other on our trade route discovers how to make a product they're sure only they can make, which is invariably reverse engineered within a week of hitting the market," Ravia said with a smile that had the implied undertone of 'that's so cute'. "Unless you have a mine for croco, magan or anatass in your demesne, it's hardly worth the bother."

I blinked, then sighed. "All right, I deserved that." I tilted my head. "What kinds of products?"

"Oh, people have been tapping all the trees, and one found a sap that makes of a decent substitute to sweetwood sap," Ravia said cheerfully.

"What, really? There was none of that in the almanac."

"Oh, they debuted their product when spring broke. Unfortunately, the tree is relatively common in the area. With enough people tapping every tree around, they very quickly narrowed down which it was."

I sighed. "I have to get a description, it would be nice to have something besides honey for sweetener." I shook my head. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd like to ask you to look over our product in any case. Even if someone manages to figure out how to replicate it, here and now, I don't think anyone has. And it's still valuable, sellable product despite that."

"I suppose, though I will be the judge of whether it's valuable, Master Rian."

I nodded. "Of course. Still, I think you'll agree this is will be a good product to sell. Tell you what, if you don't find it impressive, I'll give you a mican."

He gave me a bemused smile. "A mican?"

I shrugged. "Have you had a mican today?"

Ravia laughed. "I suppose I haven't. Very well. And if I am impressed?"

"Then I'd have won, because you'll be giving me a lot of beads to buy and sell my product," I said. "That's far better than a mican."

"No, no, that won't do. I insist on proper terms."

I shrugged. Well, if he insisted… "You recommend a Deadspeaker who's amenable to be recruited to a demesne."

Ravia considered that. "Fine. A simple recommendation it is. You will have to recruit them on their own."

We shook hands in agreement for the little wager.