Once they had finished their coffees, they got the day underway. First, they tramped through the snow to Goldhammer’s bank. Thrawn Goldhammer himself was there in the front of the bank, a broad, stout dwarf with a long, plaited golden beard.
He was one of the richest and most magnificent denizens of the city, but despite that he still had a reputation for taking a careful interest in the day-to-day running of his business. He did not actually serve customers - or at least, he only served the most wealthy and noteworthy patrons - but he enjoyed being seen in the premises of the bank that he had started.
Cal and Jason withdrew the money from their accounts and combined it in a heavy leather bag. They made their way back to the auctioneer’s agent’s office, handed over the gold, and received the signed and sealed ownership deeds in return.
“That’s it really done now,” Jason said. “No going back.”
Cal nodded and looked at his friend to see if there was any worry in his eyes. There was a little. That was understandable, Cal thought. 1500 crowns was a big investment that Jason had put in, and he’d only get it back if Cal did well. Jason’s business had been prosperous recently, but 1500 crowns was a lot of money, and Cal knew that it was imperative he pay the loan back before All Gods Day.
Jason narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking at Cal. Then, he suddenly laughed.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said, putting his worries to one side and slapping Cal on the back. “You’ll do fine. Come on, let’s get to work.”
There was plenty of work to do. They got back to the shop and got started. Before much time had passed, they were both working with rolled-up shirt sleeves and sweating despite the cold outside. The first job was clearing the access to the back court. They shifted all the lumber out of the little hallway, separating what would only be useful as firewood and what might be used for building in the shop.
Jason cleared a space in the corner near the fireplace and stacked the wood that was only good for burning. The rest, he carried through into the front shop and leaned it against the counter. Meanwhile, Cal sorted through the rest of the junk in the back hallway. Most of it really was trash, but down in the bottom of the pile he found something that might be useful - a box full of old, blunted cutlery.
“What on earth do you want with that?” Jason asked when he saw Cal bringing the box into the workshop and sorting quickly through the contents.
“Some of it is silver plated,” Cal explained. “It’s not enough silver to be useful to anyone else. It wouldn’t be worth the time of a smith to separate the silver plating from the steel underneath, but there’s an enchantment I can use to quickly strip the silver from the steel and create a couple of ingots.”
Jason frowned. “Isn’t that a Level 3 spell?” he said. “I’ve heard of that.”
Cal gave his friend a look. “It is,” he said, “but I know how to do it. Read a description of it in Spellworker’s Weekly and worked out the theory of it easily enough.”
“That’s illegal, though,” Jason said in a hushed voice. “You can’t use Level 3 spells; you’re only certified to Level 1.”
“I can’t legally make and sell any enchantments that are above Level 1,” Cal said. “But the law on what I do in my own time is much more of a gray area. Technically I’m not allowed to use that magic, yes, but nobody is going to enforce it. If I went up to Level 4, that would be a risk, but not Level 3. Nobody will know, and there’s probably enough metal in this old cutlery to create a couple of steel half ingots, at least a silver eighth, and maybe a gold eighth too.”
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“Really?” Jason said as he looked in the box. “I’d never have thought there was that much, but you’re a better judge. I’d like to see you do that magic.”
“I’ll need some cores first,” Cal said.
* * *
They worked for a few more hours, and by early afternoon they had made good progress. The front shop was cleared of broken display cases, and the nasty, moldy rug had been rolled up and carried out back. The little door out into the back court was clear of junk and they could access the back court properly now. This was essential, as they’d have to stash a lot of the rubbish from the shop out there until they could get it uplifted and taken away.
They lit a fire in the workshop, cleaned out the iron kettle, and heated water. Jason, anticipating the need for cleaning supplies, had brought a stack of clean rags and some rough liquid soap. He and Cal made use of these to wash down the front windows. They had finished the first one and were moving on to the door and the second window when Alyn, the baker from next door, appeared.
“Hello!” he said, waving to them and looking inside the shop. “You two have been busy. Cal, do you still want to come with me to meet my wholesaler? I’m about to go.”
Cal looked at Jason. “Sure you’re okay with staying here while I do that?” he asked.
“Of course,” Jason grinned. “I’m enjoying myself. Go for it.”
Alyn the baker proved to be a chatty, easy-going companion. He hailed a wyvern cab on the Sandweaver Street and gave an address in the east of the city, near the docks, a good few miles from the Merchants’ Quarter. As they rode through the wintry city, they got to know each other a bit better.
“I’ve been living and working in the bakery for over ten years,” Alyn told Cal, “but I’ll not be doing it for much longer, I don’t think. I’m getting old, and I can’t handle the early mornings anymore, particularly not at this time of year. When I retire, I’m going to spend a month just catching up on sleep!”
Alyn was interested to hear Cal’s story. He nodded thoughtfully as Cal explained how he had always wanted to be an enchanter but had never had the money necessary to get the higher level exams.
“My old uncle Elias raised me,” Cal said, “and he had a bit of money and some connections, so he was able to help me to get my level one enchanting exam out of the way. But after that, the exams become really expensive, and I decided that I really needed my own shop before I could start saving toward the higher-level exams.”
“I’ve heard that Pedantus Guild exams are very expensive,” Alyn said. “I never quite understood why. Seems like it stops talented young people like yourself from getting ahead.”
“I suppose so,” Cal said, “but it also stops people who aren’t really committed from becoming enchanters, and overall, I think that’s a good thing. Enchanting can be a dangerous business, and you need to really know what you’re doing. If it was easier to become an enchanter, people might end up selling all kinds of junk enchantments, and that could be really dangerous.”
Biddle and Kronk’s Exotic Goods was located in an impressive warehouse building near Saltseller’s Dock. Alyn was well known there, and the two proprietors of the warehouse greeted him genially and were pleased to welcome Cal on Alyn’s recommendation.
Biddle and Kronk were a strange pair. Kronk was a halfling, a small, officious, rotund fellow with curly red hair and mismatched eyes. Biddle was a tall, misty figure who seemed to need quite a powerful effort to make himself visible. He was a wraith, the ghost of a human who had been stabilized by magic to be able to continue a physical presence.
“So, you’ve taken over the Northwood Enchantery?” Biddle said in his misty, faraway voice. “The old proprietor was a strange one, old Darkworth, not a man I liked, and someone who was not well liked in the city either. But you seem like a different sort altogether.”
He smiled through the mist that surrounded him and gestured for Cal to come through into the next room. “We carry a small range of monster cores that come in on our shipments of coffee, flour, and sugar,” he explained. “We offer good prices and consistent stock, though not a particularly large range. We ask that you make a cash purchase first, but once you’ve spent 250 crowns with us, we’ll be happy to allow you to open an account, payable monthly or fortnightly as you prefer.”
Cal smiled. “Thanks,” he said, though inside he felt deflated. He’d hoped that he might be able to open an account with the wholesaler straightaway, but he knew that was probably a bit overly optimistic. Even with a recommendation from an existing customer, few wholesalers would be likely to hand over stock on trust to an unknown new shop owner.
Cal looked over the small but select assortment of cores that Biddle had available. The wraith was right; the selection wasn’t extensive, but there was plenty to be getting on with here. 10 or 15 of these cores would have been enough for Cal to make a very good start at stocking his shop, but these cores were out of his price range for now.