THE OTHER BIG SECRET 2: RABBIT STEW / CH. 5:WEDDING DAY

LONDON, 9AM SATURDAY MORNING, 1ST NOV.

Rose, James, and Rick all went to meet the night train, with differerent reasons and concerns. Rose hoped her brother wouldn't put his if foot in it too badly, James was hoping that Mabel had managed to restrain Karella's dress sense, and Rick was a bundle of nerves.

Karella herself was also a bit nervous. She'd been looking out of the train window and seen just how big this city was. Mile after mile of houses and houses, and then blocks, reaching up like ugly grey cubist coral, which Mabel told her were more houses, but without gardens, or any private outside space at all. At the edges it had looked neat and tidy, now, as she got further in there was more and more ... grime, she decided the word was. It looked dirty. It wasn't that it needed a wash: it had obviously just rained, but it needed a good scrub. But no one was doing that. They just carried on with their lives, as though it didn't matter. Maybe it didn't to them. They stopped; everyone stayed seated and Karella wondered if this was normal.

“The signal's against us.” Mabel said “There must be another train. It's fairly normal.”

“It doesn't look very clean.”

“Ha! You should have seen it when every house was burning coal, along with the steam engines, of course. Fifteen, twenty years ago there were days you wouldn't be able to see your feet from all the smog.”

“What's smog?”

“Fog mixed with smoke. It's not a healthy thing to breathe, believe me.”

“I do. What happened?”

“They banned coal. Smokeless fuel only, which meant coal which has had the tar taken out of it.”

“But you have nuclear power!”

“Not enough of it. And electricity is expensive. It's much cheaper to heat a home with coal or there's gas these days. I think a lot of the electricity comes from coal, by the way.”

“More fossil fuel.”

“Yes. And too many people.”

“I see what Rose meant.”

The train was moving again. The infrastructure alone... it was amazing. She tried to calculate what the value of the iron or steel she was seeing would be at home, but it was beyond measure. The rails, the bridges, everything seemed to be made of iron or brick. Often iron and brick. No wonder her grandfather had spoken about how pleasant it was to live closer to nature. There didn't seem to be much of it left in this city. She'd had enough of being close enough to nature, it would kill you, but she hoped there was at least some around. She shuddered, knowing she wouldn't be able to live in grime like this.

“Bad?”

“It's dirtier than a teenager's bedroom.”

“This is probably the worst view of London you'll get.”

“I'm glad. If it was all like that, then...”

“Then what?”

“I almost said I'd prefer home. But I guess I'd actually ask if you had any contacts who don't live in this city.”

“That's clearer thinking, certainly. Most people wouldn't live here if it was this bad.”

“How does it get so bad?”

“Who'd clean it? I know you saw the toilet on this train. You came back white.”

“It's disgusting!”

“No one is allowed to walk on the tracks. The speed of the train spreads it sufficiently for biology to take place fairly quickly. And there's a sign saying don't flush when stopped, for obvious reasons. But for equally good reasons, who'd clean up a railway track that was still in use?”

“Not me.”

“Exactly. And most people forget about it, pretend it's not here. I expect with a bit of practice you'll be able to too. Humans are practical like that.”

“Maybe.”

The train creaked and groaned, as it went over some points. “How old is this... system?”

“Oh, I'm sure your grandfather would recognise it. Maybe some has been replaced, but I'd doubt all of it.”

“So this was all done within a few decades of his industrial revolution?”

“Well, probably more like a hundred years, and you must remember, at the time Britain was the centre of an empire. Half the world was involved some way in building this. Through taxes or cheaper labour freeing workers to work in the industries here, if nothing else.”

“I'm sure they're very pleased about their contribution to this grime.”

“Not very, most of them.” Mabel agreed. “Almost here.”

“I can see a lot of things better, having been on this journey with you. Thankyou.”

“What sort of things?”

“Like, how can there be enough people who need to use a pawnbroker for Rose's brother to live from it. Why Rose wasn't proud of her home city. That sort of thing. What grandpa meant when he said I'd be totally out of my depth here.”

“You use that expression?”

“It was one of grandpa's. I can see the sense in it. I could drown in this city. Metaphorically, I mean. Go down, down, down until I was crushed out of existence.”

“People do.” Mable agreed. “What's the biggest crowd you've been in?”

“Maybe.. five hundred.” Karella replied.

“OK. There might be that many on just this train. And there might be other trains. They'll all know where they're going. Think of a strong riptide. If we get separated, then don't panic, just go somewhere there's not such a crush of people. Preferably without going through any doors. I'm saying that because you shouldn't go through some of them, and you might not know which ones. I can find you no problem, but I can't sprint like I used to, you know. Actually, I'll probably just sit down somewhere and set Rose on you. She's waiting.”

----------------------------------------

Rose saw them first, and waved. [Welcome to Euston Street Station. Try to avoid breathing. Fresher air is this way.]

Karella appreciated the jovial tone of the greeting. So, that was the woman who'd decided to abandon this place and set out into the unknown with James. If she hadn't lost so many loved ones, she might have decided that Rose was going in the right direction. Rose was a bit worried about something, Karella could see from her face. Maybe it was her. Beside Rose, she saw James, in the suit she'd had made for him. He looked like himself, even with the alien attire, and she guessed that the man beside Rose was her brother. She always judged people by their faces. His looked... reliable, Karella decided. That was a good sign.

James spoke. “Hi, cousin. I'm sure you're just dying to know what grandmother thinks, but first let me introduce Roseline Abbot, Medical Doctor, soon to be Roseline Turnbull, and Rick Abbot, who's generously been letting Rose and me sleep on the sofa and floor of his house respectively, after we decided we didn't want to stay with Rose's mum any more. Thank you so much for bringing her, Mabel. Shall we go outside?”

“Yes. I can't hear myself think in here.” Mabel declared.

Rose and James flanked Mabel, leaving Karella and Rick to walk behind. Karella wasn't sure if that was accident or design.

“Hello.” she said, “I don't know what they've told you about me, but it's probably all well-meaning lies.”

He smiled nervously, “I'm sure you can correct them now you're here in person. Urm, James did show me the family Bible. I'm really sorry for your loss.”

Her planned banter vanished, and she was at a loss for words for the next few steps. She heard his thoughts that he'd ruined everything, and shook her head to them. “Thank you.” she said. “It's good to know you know.” She realised it was true. By that one act, James had made sure that she would never need to say what had happened, and by getting it over with, she got the feeling that Rick was saying if she wanted to talk, he would be there for her. Or at least, he'd know what she was talking about. Ultimately, she realised, his offer of sympathy had given her freedom.

“Rose, this girl needs to see some clean and green.” Mabel announced, “Otherwise she might faint on you.”

“Regent's park? It's not too far.” Rick suggested, before Rose could reply.

Rose had been going to suggest they catch a bus to Wimbledon Common, but Rick was right, they could show her wilder bits of the city later. Regent's park ought to be clean, at least.

----------------------------------------

After staring out over the water to the manicured lawns of the park, Karella found a number of questions bubbling to her mind. She asked Rick the one which was probably most important. “How did you become a Christian?”

He laughed. “I was just building up the courage to ask you that. Mum and Dad worked out that if us elder kids went out to Sunday School and took the little 'uns, then the house was quiet, and they could have an extra two hours of sleep. So, rain or shine, off to Sunday School we went. We were probably a complete pain to the teachers the first year or so, but they put up with us, and we enjoyed the singing and so on. We liked going, our parents liked that we went for purely selfish reasons, and we listened, too. All six of us turned to Christ. Two of my sisters are helping teach Sunday school now, Rose went off to learn to be a doctor, then found out that she couldn't get a job, which hurt her a lot. But she always said it wasn't God's fault that people were afraid. I guess she's afraid of being cut up to find out how she can hear thoughts. Don't tell people you can.”

“You can't?” Karella asked. She'd guessed, but she knew some people pretended they couldn't.

“No one can. Well known 'fact'. Except for you and Rose and James. The only people who can in stories are aliens, maybe mermaids, I can't remember, and witches, who don't exist either, we hope.”

“You hope mermaids don't exist?” she asked, with a little smile on her lips.

“Well, I was mostly thinking of witches. But, yeah, mermaids... everyone agrees they're pretty, and sing really nicely, but ... some of the stories about them don't sound so very nice, luring sailors to their doom or causing storms. But on the other hand, I suppose if the only land-people you ever met were pirates, slave-traders and drunken sailors, maybe you'd think drowning a few would make the world a better place.”

She didn't reply for a while and he was about to ask her about her faith when she said “I was wondering if a tidal wave would make this city a better place, looking at the griminess of everything I saw from the train. But it looks like you do know what cleanliness is. At least in some places.”

“You're in favour of clean, then?”

“Yes. Isn't everyone?”

“Not so you'd notice. Well, I guess it depends where. I don't know anyone who'd eat from a plate they knew was dirty, some people would be horrified if they had a dirty kitchen but would put up with some dirt in the rest of the house, lots have spotless houses and dirty yards or gardens. Some people think their gardens should be as... sterile as this, I guess, where not even an earthworm dare step out of line. To me, this much grass needs some kids playing on it.”

“They're not at their lessons?”

“Oh probably. But I see signs saying keep off the grass, and I think they're there all year.”

“Oh. I thought they were just for the autumn.”

“Maybe they are. I don't know.”

There was a pause, and Rick finally got to ask “How did you become a Christian?”

“I lived with my grandma. She ended up being such an evangelist that they gave her the name Evangelia. Quite a change in her, really.”

“What was she before?”

“Oh, all sorts of things: first a warrior, then a general, then an evangelist, a politician. Now she's... I'm not quite sure what you'd call her. She gives good advice and people leap to obey. I do wonder what she says to me coming here.”

“I take it you didn't tell anyone?”

“No. I just loaded up with trade-goods and food like normal, and came this way. I'd expected to find James' boat on the way, or near where I left mine. I was going to wait for him and quiz him.”

“I am very confused about something.” Rick said.

“Yes?”

“You've got ocean going boats, it seems, but James said you lived in an isolated village, and never met outsiders.”

“Both are true. We normally try to avoid your boats. Call it racial xenonoia if you like.”

“Xenonoia?”

“Grandpa invented the word. A terror of outsiders which goes beyond xenophobia into paranoia.”

“So... you coming here... that sounds like a pretty drastic step.”

“Oh, it was. I hope you don't mind. I'm going to keep a lot of secrets from you. From everyone.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“But Rose knows?”

“Oh I expect so. Probably not all, James probably left a lot to tell her on the journey, if he has any sense. But hiding secrets from Rose is a bit like hiding in the sand from a hammerhead.”

“Urm, pardon?”

“Oh. I guess you wouldn't have that expression. Urm...”

“It means a waste of time?”

“Totally pointless exercise.”

“Eating soup with a fork?”

“You'd use that expression for hiding something?”

“Probably not. Hiding an elephant under a handkerchief?”

“Better.” she agreed.

“You mentioned trade goods?”

She shrugged, “Nothing very special, I expect.”

“You see that necklace Rose has on?”

“Yes. James said he was keeping it for someone special.”

“Well, I guess he was right. He gave it to Rose in my shop, after he'd bought it back.”

“So?”

“I thought it was extravagant then, I mean, I didn't know what was going on between them, but I thought, that much gold? That's worth a lot.”

“What about the emerald?”

“I thought it was glass. James is good about being low key, not attracting attention. But you see, I had it in my shop. Hold on, I'll go back a bit. Three weeks ago, James came into my shop. Opened his briefcase, took out some ordinary looking jewelery and I offered him about half what I thought it'd be worth melted down. He pulled a face, like he really didn't want to do something, and added that necklace. I honestly thought, here's a guy who's not sure he's going to see those things again. But they looked good workmanship, so I let Rose haggle me up almost to the scrap value. She'd do that: I gave her a tip based on the extra profit it gave me, and the customer thought they were getting a good deal. James was so happy he apparently bought her a meal. Then last week, he comes back and buys it all back, claiming it was just so she could get her tip. I told her not to give away trade secrets.”

“That's a good tip.” Karella agreed.

“Yeah. She was expecting the money sort. And he said something like 'we can't have her not getting anything for all her hard work' and gave the necklace to her. Apparently he'd decided to do that all along, but I didn't know that, and nor did she. So, I thought, he's just given her a necklace that's worth about a week's wages.”

“A week?” Karella sounded surprised.

“Yeah. Silly wasn't I? Then Rose tells me that she's asked him to take her away, and somewhere in me doing my big brotherly bit about can you really look after her, he said something about spotting the difference between emerald and glass.”

“You really thought it was glass?”

“Yes. You didn't?”

“Never.”

“Maybe I should offer you a job then.”

“We'll have to discuss wages, won't we? But finish your story first.”

“Anyway, James had acted like the necklace had sentimental value. He gave it to Rose like he wanted her to have something even if they split up, which was mighty nice of him. Especially since that necklace sold in the right place, with all the right paperwork certifying it was genuine would probably buy my house, my shop, and half the houses in the street. And I thought it was maybe worth a week's wages.” he shook his head in wonder. “What I'm saying is sometimes we hold things and look at them, but don't see them for what they are, don't value them properly. Rose values that necklace because James gave it to her, so I don't think she'd sell it for anything. At one point, James almost parted with it for barely half a week's wages because he thought he'd need the money and he rightly thought I'd ask questions he wasn't willing to answer if he told me it was real.”

“I think I get your point. My trade goods might be worth more than I think?”

“But they might also cost you giving answers, if you sold them to someone who didn't already trust you, know you, and so on.”

“So, this is a bid to make yourself my exclusive agent?” she asked.

He laughed. “No, well, not really. It's much more a bid to become a good friend, and maybe more, so I can give you what they're really worth, when you're ready.”

“Thank you, Rick. I think I like you.”

“Well I know I like looking at you, but that's different, isn't it?”

“I understand it helps though. You're not so bad looking yourself.”

“Thank you. But I think we're smart enough not to make promises based on looks and my little sister's matchmaking, aren't we?”

“I hope so. Personality, integrity, faith, they're fairly objective. But understanding, trust; those are rather important too.” Karella agreed.

“So, we need to spend time together, don't we?”

“I think so, yes.” she agreed.

“How much do you know about our culture? In terms of getting to know each other?”

“Has much changed since my grandpa was here?”

“Probably lots.”

“Not much then, except what Rose told me. Roughly six months' engagement minimum, after you're all decided? Except I gather that morals are slipping.”

“Possibly. Or maybe people are more open about their bad morals.”

“Openness wasn't a problem in my grandmother's day.”

“Oh? I haven't heard about that.”

“I'll tell you one day.” she promised.

“So, one option is you get a job and we spend quite a lot of evenings doing things together. Another option is I give you a job and then maybe you have more evenings free to get to know this strange city.”

“You're not offering your services as a guide?”

“Happily. The issue with the second one is if I offer you a job, and it turns out you're no good, that could spoil a wonderful relationship, couldn't it?”

“Only if I don't agree.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“No, but... I do value honesty. About people, anyway.”

“Not about what you're buying and selling?”

“Well... that's an interesting question isn't it? How much honesty, how much not mentioning things?”

“That's why I like pawn-brokering. There's more honesty about it than market-stall work.”

“You've done that too?”

“Yes. Are you an embellisher, a skipper, a traveller, or a bit of all three?”

“I don't really know the terms. Would I sell glass as emerald? Never.”

“Would you sell silver-plate as silver?”

“What's silver-plate?”

“Base metal, thin layer of silver.”

“Oh, we call that something else. No.”

“Would you knowingly sell a musical instrument that wouldn't keep it's pitch, because it was made of the wrong materials?”

“I wouldn't buy from that maker again.”

“But if they had a hundred of them for sale, and they told you?”

“What sort of instrument maker would make that many bad ones? Oh! Mass production? We're not used to that.”

“Oh. Urm... hold on.” He fished in his pocket and gave her an old pocket watch. “I'm selling, you're buying.”

“I've no idea what it's worth.”

“I'll sell it to you for five pounds.”

“Oh really?” she asked, peering at it. “Not exactly in perfect condition, is it?”

“Well no.”

“Scratches on the glass.”

“True. But it keeps time.”

She looked around, and compared the time on the watch to that on a clocktower. “Not very well, according to that clock. I'll give you one pound for it because I like you.”

“It was my grandfather's.” he said.

“Sorry, that just means you want to keep it, not that I want to buy it.”

“It can be adjusted, look!”

“You know that but haven't done it? Don't you take care of it at all? And look at that grime in it, you don't do you! What a way to treat your grandfather's watch!”

“Oh all right. One pound, fifty pee.”

“How many pee in a pound? What happened to shillings?”

“We've gone decimal. One hundred new pence, also called pee, in a pound.”

“Well, that's easier. OK. I offered you a pound before I saw what a mess you've made of it! I'll offer you eighty pee.”

“What! You can't go down!”

“I just did. What have you done to the hinge? It looks like you've used it to open something. Seventy pee.”

“I'll offer you it for a pound, or I'm leaving.”

“Seventy five pee, or I'll let you.”

Rick laughed. “OK, you can haggle, I'll give you that. Now, can you sell?”

“Can you breathe?” she challenged back. “One pocket watch, deplorable state, but I have it on very good authority that it belonged to your grandfather. Is that his name on the inscription?”

“It is.” he groaned.

“Now, the previous owner, the complete slob, couldn't be bothered to clean it or make it run true, but see here? It says 'seven jewels', that's good, normally I've only seen five before now, so I think given the family connection and the basic quality, that if this watch was clean and set up properly, it'd be worth ten pounds to a family-loving man like you, but since it's in such a poor state, why don't we just settle on three? Just look at the workmanship on it! This was almost certainly hand made by a craftsman, you realise, not mass-produced rubbish like they make these days. And look at the date: it's been working since 1905. You show me a watch on the market today that'll run for seventy years at that price and workmanship!”

“You're saying it'll last another seventy years?” he challenged.

“I can't make promises, but this is clearly a very good watch. I mean, look at the abuse it's taken but it's still going strong. A lesser watch would have given up years, no, decades ago.”

“Three's too much.”

“All right, since I came all this way down from Scotland to meet you, I'll sell it to you for two pounds fifty.”

“You're not going to budge, are you?” he said, looking at her speculatively.

“Not very far.” she agreed with a smile, looking at the mechanism of the watch.

“How much will you go to?”

“Two pounds twenty five pee.” she said absently. “Last offer. I happen to know your grandfather has other descendants who might not be so money grabbing as you.”

“You're pretty good. Can I have my watch back?”

“When you've settled up.”

“Pardon?”

“You sold it to me. You bought it back. I presume you're buying it back. I can try to sell it to Rose if you like prefer. One pound and fifty pence, please.”

“But it was just a test!”

“So? Don't the best tests have something at stake?”

“It was pretend.”

“Really? That's the first time I've heard that word. You mean it wasn't for real? I thought it was for real. Hey, Mr Duck, did you hear him say it was pretending?”

“I'm going to make you work for this.” he said, handing her the money.

“I thought I already had.” she said, with a dazzling smile. “So, this is what your money looks like, looking at the green-printed paper and the multi-sided coin. Thank you. I'll treasure it until I need to spend it.”

“You're outrageous.”

“Thank you.”

Rose wandered over.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“She's just swindled me out of one pound fifty.” Rick said, smiling broadly.

“He sold me your grandfather's watch and then bought it back. It's not my problem if he can't haggle very well.”

“You sold her Grandad's watch? Why?”

“I wanted to find out what sort of trader she was, I found out, but it was meant to be all pretend. I failed to specify that, unfortunately for my wallet.”

“And what sort of trader is she?”

“Winsome, perceptive, slippery as an eel, honest, whole-hearted, and beautiful. I think I'm falling in love.”

“Just for that, I'll clean that watch up for you.” Karella said. “Rose, if Rick decides to hire me as an assistant after this, what's the going rate?”

“You'd probably need to think of spending eight to fifteen pounds a week on a room. Since you're a skilled worker and this is London where live is more expensive compared to the rest of the country...”

“'Ere, old on a moment, Rose! I'm not made of money!”

Rose ignored her brother “And the national average salary has just passed two thousand a year for a forty hour week, then he's possibly undervaluing you if he gives you a pound an hour. But of course you can negotiate that down to something he claims he can afford. Someone just leaving school would get more like fifty pence an hour. Does that help?”

“It does, thank you Rose. Is that watch really only worth an hour and a half's labour?”

“Of course not!”

“It's a shame you didn't name the true value then.”

“Not from my point of view, luv.”

Karella looked sharply at him. He'd said he was falling in love with her, but she'd thought it was just banter... was he really being so quick?

Rose spotted her reaction, touched her thoughts to confirm and said “He didn't mean what that might have sounded like, Karella. I'm afraid it didn't mean much more than punctuation.”

“Don't be afraid, Rose. It's important information, that he says things he doesn't mean. Now, Rick, as you've just proclaimed that you're falling in love with me, what does that turn into in terms of money?”

“So, Karella, if I pay you at a rate based on a future relationship, does that mean you accept a pay cut if it doesn't work out?”

“Ah, now, that's an interesting ploy.”

“It also means, of course, that you'd be tempted to string me along, getting my hopes up even when all possibility of us being together had long since left your mind. Which doesn't sound like you, really.”

“Alternatively, I might be tempted to accept a lower rate of pay so you can pay me longer and I can spend more time in your scintillating company.”

Karella said, “In which case breaking up would give me a nice financial bonus to make up for the heart-break.”

Rick winced and asked “Why don't we keep romance out of the pay negotiations?”

“Very good idea. But I'm sure you'll agree that my bargaining skills are far above average...”

“Have you heard the word 'apprenticeship?' That's when you find a rich relative to pay me something, so I'll take you on and teach you the trade, and then you work for free for a few years in exchange for food, lodging, and education.”

Rose laughed and left them to it.

----------------------------------------

11AM, REGENT'S PARK

“Are they still at it?” Mabel asked.

“I think they've moved on to other things.” Rose replied, seeing them holding hands looking at the ducks.

“Seems a pretty successful match so far.” James said, “Maybe we ought to warn the vicar.”

“Speaking of which, Rose.” Mabel said, “Shouldn't you be thinking of getting ready?”

“I'm not planning on spending lots of money on renting some wedding dress when I won't even be around by the time any photos would be developed.” Rose replied.

“I know, dear. But I did notice when we met that you look about the same size I used to be, so I took the liberty to send my dress on ahead yesterday. It should be at the luggage office if you want to borrow it.”

“You sent ...? Mabel, you're a wonderful person!”

“Is that a yes? You'd like to borrow it?”

“Absolutely!”

----------------------------------------

2PM, REGENT'S PARK

“Now that is a really pretty dress.” Karella observed.

“You know how I told you that you could wear whatever you liked?”

“Yes?” Karella asked eagerly.

“Not one of these, sorry. Everyone would think you were going to your wedding. This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. Most people hire them.”

“Spoil-sport. What a silly custom.”

“It'd get dirty anyway, and that'd be a real shame.”

“True. And I don't imagine it's very practical, either.”

“No.”

“What did my grandmother say? You still haven't told me.”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“She said. 'Keep the secret, live a long life, but feel free to visit home with your husband if you want to, as long as he has vowed to keep the secret.'”

“Rose, it's not right to tease me like that.”

“I'm not teasing.”

“But...”

“But you can pass as a land-maid. You have the right to use your grandfather's inheritance too. In fact, it'd be quite useful to keep an eye on where that lawyer's planning to move offices to next.”

“Pardon?”

“You know James had such a hard time finding the lawyer?”

“Yes. Mabel told me on the way down.”

“I had a nasty suspicious thought last night and used my gift, looking for lawyers planning to make it hard for their clients to find them. Guess who showed up as a little red spot.”

“Oh. That's nasty!”

“Not illegal though. Here.” she passed an envelope to Karella. “This is the main reason I asked you to come. James agrees it makes far more sense for you to have the signet ring. There's a letter in it from him to the lawyer. What I'd suggest you do is go and say hello to the lawyer, before he moves, let him know you're in the area, and give him an address he can contact you at. Let me know if he moves secretly, I'll tell you where his office is, and you can remind him that it's polite to tell your clients when you're moving offices. It would probably be fairly tricky to move the trust, but I'm sure its possible.”

“Is that something Rick could help with?”

“Probably not. But Mabel might know someone able to.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, it's for our kids' education. Or yours, if you decide you need it.”

“I probably don't... my trade goods might have different values here.”

[Want to think a rough inventory to me?]

[Yes please. I've got two pounds of pure iron... I get the feeling that's worth about nothing here, but it's sure not back home.]

[Correct.]

[I've also maybe a bucket of silver jewelery, about one and a half buckets of assorted gold jewelery.]

[How big's a bucket?]

[Urm... sort of bucket sized. Maybe two spread hands wide diameter, three spread hands deep. I certainly couldn't lift one.]

[You are joking, aren't you?]

[Gold's pretty, and it's a useful coating because it doesn't rust, but it's not that valuable really.]

[Urm... it is up here. I expect there are other metals that are more valuable, but they're ultra rare, like platinum.]

[I don't have any of that.]

[Fine. Gold is something like seventy pounds to the troy ounce. Rick can tell you.]

[Troy as Helen?]

[I seriously doubt it. It's a bit heavier than a normal ounce.]

[But, you usually can pick up some at almost any ship-wreck, and if you don't mind the cold there's rivers that just dump the stuff all over the place!]

[Wow, do we have different values on things! Face it girl, you're technically stinking rich. Whether you can use your wealth without getting arrested for robbery is a tricky issue.]

[Ah, right. Do I mention the other trade goods?]

[Go on, shock me. Two buckets of perls?]

[Why? There's no trade in those.]

[Don't worry.]

[I've got some diamonds, they're in demand sometimes.]

[And extremely valuable.]

[Really?]

[Yes. Other gems?]

[Yes, a few buckets. I've also got some bottled fruit for the luxury market, but I'm guessing thats not so much a luxury on land, is it?]

[No, sorry.]

[Oh well.]

[So.. to you iron is worth more than gold?]

[Much.]

[Bother. If I'd known I'd have asked Rick to nip down the scrap yard and put a few tons into his van.]

[Don't joke, it's not funny.]

[OK, you're right he couldn't put a few tonnes in, it wouldn't fit. But value? A handful of gold would buy you more iron than you can lift. You need to re-evaluate. Gold is valuable because its rare, and hard to get out of the ground. Iron ore gets turned into iron at a rate of hundreds, probably millions actually, of tons a day. I guess I need to reevaluate too.]

[You drop lots of iron on us, but it rusts so quickly. We don't process it because a ship is kind of hard to move, removing the oxide makes a lot of smoke, and can't be done secretly except on a very small scale. Any kid can pick up gold, except of course for the natural hazards. And as for perls, why bother? I grew out of playing with those years ago.]

[Oysters are pretty rare on land.]

[Oh. So... when we find a perl necklace, and think child's plaything...]

[Think rich woman's status symbol. Well, it used to be.]

[Tell me about plastic.]

[Cheap, mass-produced, throw-away items.]

[Right. Thought so. Not an expensive offering to a sea god or goddess, then, like some people have been heard to suggest.]

[Ah, no. We're just slobs who don't tidy up after ourselves, sorry.]

[Yes. I'd noticed that already. Shouldn't you be leaving?]

[Yes. It's been nice chatting, Karella. Let's do it again.]

[Fine by me!]