Chapter 39 - Bodies of Brass

“A most unfortunate situation, King Apollo. We detest and dislike the javeline almost as much as we detest and dislike the newcomers. I am pleased to see that your town was not overrun.”

Town. I looked around the central common area at the buildings rising from the bluff. I guess with all the wooden and adobe construction with clay roofing tiles, it was starting to look less like a primitive village and more like a town. The goblin-powered cranes only added to that aesthetic with the ongoing construction efforts. There was also a chance Taquoho was playing to my ego. In which case, it was working.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry you got caught up in the middle of that. I know you took a risk in coming here."

“A risk well worth it,” the ifrit insisted, bowing in his gauze wraps. “Our friend Rufus did not exaggerate the marvels he beheld. This… aerodynamics. This rocketry. Your ceramic components. Your flying bodies. We are joyed to have found a one with such a love for natural philosophies and artifice. The City will be joyed. There is much to gain from friendship.”

“Not least of all, new friends,” I said.

The Ifrit seemed to burn just a little brighter.

Rufus uncorked his bottle and opened his journal. “I’ll drink to that. Shall we get down to brass tacks? Emotional gain from friends is all well and good, but I believe there’s also much to gain, physically, from trade."

“Yes, we forget ourselves,” said Taquoho. “We were sent to evaluate the truth of your production and have seen it—and much more—for ourselves. It is not mere trinkets and bearings you can offer, but these flying bodies, this icky-sicky fuel which burns fast and hot. And your work area and tools and materials. It would be wise for our people to use them here.”

Rufus nearly choked on his bottle.

“I…” I started. I glanced over at the badger. “You… want to move some of the Ifrit to Village Apollo?”

The ifrit waved his stubby arms in what it must have thought was a calming gesture. “On a temporary basis, only, I assure you. To ensure parts and components are produced to specification and perhaps negotiate for winged bodies. Once we inform our king of what we have seen here we are sure they will agree. We will require only minimal space and account for our own sustenance. In return, as fair rents, we can offer more than simple wire and lodestones. We can offer zinc, brass, piping, cog-work, springs, clockwork bodies, time-keepers, and bells. We can also provide goods from the newcomers at the southern shore, who we find not as detestable as others, and have brokered with on occasion through our friend Rufus.”

I glanced at Rufus, who nodded enthusiastically. And I could think of a million uses for all of that stuff. Brass had its limits as a metal—it was useless for things like spears and knives, what with its softness. But pipes, springs, gears? Ho boy. We were talking about some pretty advanced mechanical possibilities. Plumbing, steam boilers, turbines, and more. But that wasn’t what interested me most. The most intriguing part of the offer was the possibility of having the ifrit themselves take up residence in Village Apollo. It would give the city a vested interest in the security of Village Apollo. But that wasn’t all. These were beings that could possess and manipulate mechanical objects in a completely alien method without adding weight or drag. They could analyze and manipulate devices from the inside.

You know what else could do that? Computers and complex wiring through servos, solenoids, and hydraulics. The Ifrit were walking, talking ghosts in the machine. And I wanted to get every single one of them so hooked on goblin engineering that they never wanted to leave.

“I think we can support an arrangement like that,” I said, carefully.

“We are pleased. But we are also tired from our journey and our learning of the flight body. I will trust our friend Rufus to compile the fine details of your prospective arrangement with our King of The City.”

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"Sleep well,” I said. I uncapped Taquoho’s bottle and held the mouth up for him.

The Ifrit emptied his gauze wraps and funneled back into his bottle. Rufus carefully folded the gauze while I threaded the cap back on the bottle and set it on the workbench, looking at the colored brass. I ran my hand through the fur on top of my head and considered.

“You mentioned that Taquoho traveled only at great risk. I take it that it’s very rare for an Ifrit to leave the City of Brass,” I said.

“Extremely rare,” said Rufus. He opened his bag and replaced both bottle and gauze. “While they often welcome visitors, it is seldom that they travel beyond the safety of their walls. The insistence upon sending a representative with me—even one so low-ranking as Tabun’ Quo’Horal—impresses upon me that I am perhaps caught up in affairs far beyond my station. The ifrit are well-regarded for their wisdom and far-sight among the natives of Lanclova, if not for their physical prowess.”

“So when he said their King would want to send several of them here to oversee their materials and components orders…”

Rufus offered a toothy grin. “I nearly fell out of my chair. I could not have known the ifrit had records of previous goblin kings because they keep no written records. Nor how much they would become enamored over your... what were they called?”

“Ball bearings,” I supplied.

“Yes, how much your ball bearings, would impress them. They are not a people known for being easily impressed by others' artifice. In truth I had thought they might find your ceramics and flying machines an interesting novelty. Not so compelling as to leave the safety of the Brass City, and move several of their unions here.”

“You say union,” I said. “I’m still not sure I understand the Ifrit social-family structure.”

“And it’s likely you never will,” said Rufus. He licked the tip of his quill and smoothed his journal pages. “Raphina has watched my dealings with them beneath her watchful eye for years, and I’m sure she’s just as confused as you or I. If there are guiding codices or taboos, they are unique to each Ifrit. What custom one union might insist upon, another might find…”

“Crude and reductive?” I asked.

Rufus roared with laughter. “Just so! A uniquely frustrating people. But fascinating, and earnest. As long as you learn to spot the ones with a penchant for trickery and avoid them, there’s profit to be had.”

“Speaking of profit. I’m wondering how you get your take in all this.”

The quill began to scratch across the journal. “Simple. I’ll mediate all trade between your kingdom and the King of the City of Brass. In exchange, I’ll take 1% of the value of all trade in precious metals or trade goods, to be provided by the Ifrit.”

“In both directions?”

“Yes. I don’t know what value they will place on your ceramics or other technology. But the King is nothing if not fair. He won’t cheat me because it’s not in his nature, and you will not cheat me because I’m not charging you commission. Not that I think you would, but there is no one to hold you accountable if you reneged, you see.”

“Savvy planning for a trader. What’s to stop me from visiting the City of Brass on my own to broker deals?”

“High-level monsters in the plains and the desert, mostly. Even your gliders wouldn’t be safe from the sandstorms and the terrors that prowl the southern skies. The ground is even more fraught with danger if you don’t know the ways. You could take a thousand goblins trying to reach the Brass City and you would lose a thousand goblins.”

I tilted my head. “How do you manage it so easily?”

“Badger,” answered Rufus, as if that continued to explain everything. “But you should absolutely visit the city once it’s safe to do so. It’s a wonderful marvel. Now, what should I tell the King of the Ifrit that you would like delivered when his people arrive?”

“Canvas sailcloth,” I said without hesitation.

“Making ships in the middle of the jungle, are we?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” I said. Textiles were still in short supply, and if the Ifrit were bringing a convoy, I didn’t have to worry about making sure I brought something small enough for one half-badger to transport. “And brass piping. And sealed brass casks, if they have them. Big ones.” I held my arms as wide as they could go. “Plus nuts, bolts, a dozen baskets of coal.”

Rufus scratched my words into the journal. “Oh, is that all?”

“Why, did I forget something?”

Rufus laughed. “Curious. I would have bet anything you would want their tiny cogs and clockworks for your artifice. You continue to confound me at each turn. Very well.” He blew on the pages of his journal to dry the ink.

I stood and stretched. “Micro-engineering doesn’t get me to my goals right now. I need quick, dirty solutions to technological leaps in the Goblin Tech Tree, not refined, furnished aesthetic solutions. The ifrit themselves may be a part of those technological leaps."

“That sounds ominous,” said Rufus.

I shook my head. “I don’t think they’ll see it like that.”

“Oh?” asked Rufus, “How will they see it?”

“As a wide menagerie of new and wondrous bodies, I hope.”

Rufus stowed his journal and sighed. “I suppose I won’t be staying the night this time, either.”

“At least stay for dinner,” I said. Across the square, the hunters were dragging the javaline that had been killed in the battle while the cooks cleaned their cleavers with greedy eyes. “Looks like pork ribs, tonight.”

“I suppose it would be rude to refuse.”