Passages

by Olan Thorensen

  He had grandiose visions of steam power for trains and ships, industrial-scale economies, long-distance communication (telegraph to radio), and eventually combustion engines, electricity, and powered flight. Though not a focus of his interest, he assumed pure science would leap forward centuries from the physics, engineering, and mathematics to support his dreamed-of projects.

  After he made the decision to begin introducing technological innovations, with the visions of what he might accomplish during his lifetime, what was left was everything in between.

  Patience had never been one of his strengths. In high school, he saw no reason to follow the custom of playing on the freshmen football team before moving on to the varsity. In the Naval Academy, he had performed well academically but had no taste for the sundry details of cadet life that led to leadership positions. As a serving officer, he felt that the customary years between possible promotion were arbitrary and a waste of time once he was confident he’d mastered the duties of a rank. He grudgingly acknowledged that the failure of his marriage was partly due not only to him and his wife being mismatched, but to his impatience with both Jocelyn and the interpersonal work that might have saved the relationship.

  Anticipating the difficulties he would face and the pitfalls of being too ambitious, he resolved to start slowly and to regularly remind himself to be cautious. His knowledge of Anyar technology was also limited to his experience in Tregallon, so he couldn’t make more ambitious plans until he had more information.

  And crucially, he was starting with zero resources. He remembered a quote whose source he couldn’t remember: “It takes money to make money.” He could go it alone, or he could convince people with resources to back his projects. Either way, he needed to demonstrate success to raise both coin and backers. Thus, he groped for where to start. It had to be simple, result in products people wanted, and be profitable. From success with small projects, he could plow coin into the next larger ventures. Repeating the cycle, he would reach a critical mass of resources and reputation to make possible everything he imagined.

  Simple. Easy to make. In demand. The three pillars needed for his first project. To search for candidates, he met with most of the tradesmen and the craftsmen in Tregallon, travelers passing through the town, Hamston and Haral enough times to drive them to distraction, neighborhood children, and Ulwyn and Gwanel Hovey. It was during his offhanded questioning of Gwanel about Frangelese clothing that an idea congealed: a product that didn’t exist in Tregallon and, as far as he could find out, nowhere else in Frangel. It was a product he was convinced would be well-received and easy to make, though not necessarily by him. It was also a product that seemed almost too trivial, considering everything he hoped to eventually introduce.

  Mark’s previous surveys of Tregallon shops failed to identify a potential collaborator for his idea. Success came on a Godsday afternoon when the main square of the town was lined with vendors. He’d just passed a leather-goods stall when he came upon a wizened elderly man at a table covered with jewelry. He stopped.

  “Looking for something specific?” asked the man. “Maybe for a wife or another woman? Big strapping man like you must get more than your share of interest from the women. Maybe it’s more than one woman you’re looking to buy something for.” The man waved his hand over the table. “Lots to choose from. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, broaches. If you don’t see exactly what you’re looking for, I’ve plenty more in my shop. Tell me what you want. I might even be able to make it special for you.”

  Mark didn’t respond right away but looked over the merchandise, with special interest in the necklaces. The workmanship was high quality, but the base materials were limited to brass and a blue stone he thought he recognized as amethyst. It was his mother’s birthstone and a component of several presents he’d given her over the years.

  “My name is Mark Kaldwel. I like your work. Could I know your name?”

  “Wiflow. Eldes Wiflow. Been making jewelry here the last fifty years. Could have moved to a big city, but I like Tregallon and the people.

  “All of your jewelry seems to be made of the same materials,” said Mark.

  “If you want something fancier, you’ll have to go to Kaledon or Brawsea,” rejoined the man in an annoyed tone.

  “No offense,” said Mark, “it’s all fine work, and I’ve a mind to buy some pieces, but I’m just trying to satisfy my curiosity. For example, the stones. Where I come from, they’re called amethyst.”

  “Never heard that word,” he said. “They’re lordlyn. I have a site where I get these.” He reached behind him to a box and brought out a rock about six inches in diameter. “You break these open, and the inside is hollow. Depending on the source, there can be different types of crystals forming an inner layer around the cavity. My source has mainly lordlyn.”

  Geodes! thought Mark. I had two in my room when growing up. Always loved them. The one Uncle John gave me for a birthday was the prettiest, but I always favored the one I found when our college geology class went on a field trip near Pike’s Peak.

  He knew the spheroid or oblate masses occurred in sedimentary or igneous rock where silica formed crystals lining the cavity. Often the outer layer of rock was hard enough that weathering could erode away the surrounding rock, leaving the geodes exposed or lying on the surface.

  “I believe they come in many colors and shades, but yours are all dark purple.”

  On Earth, amethyst came in various shades of purple, the darker tending to be the rarest and most sought after. The jeweler’s products were all of a deep purple with red highlights.

  “No place else this part of Frangel has this color. My jewelry may not be made of silver or gold, but the lordlyns I use go even better with the brass.

  “I was wondering where you get the brass wire. Do you make it yourself?”

  “Right in my shop.”

  “I’m guessing, but you must make the wire by drawing the metal through small holes.”

  “Hah! Haven’t gotten that question before. Most people just ignore the wire and look at the stones. You some kind of craftsman?”

  “Something like that, although probably not like any here in Tregallon. I asked about the wire because I have a product I’m thinking of making and selling. I’d like to come to your shop after you’re through here and discuss this with you. Maybe we can do some business.”

  “I’ll be here another three hours. If you come back when they strike the cathedral bell twice to end the market, we can walk together.”

  Mark agreed and returned to the Hoveys’ house.

  “Ulwyn, I have an idea for a new product, but I don’t know what the customs here are for men working together. My idea would involve me working with the jeweler named Wiflow.”

  Ulwyn stroked his beard. “Hmmm. Wiflow. Sharp as a razor, that old man. I won’t say he’s dishonest, but be careful how you deal with him. He likes to follow the exact specifics of an agreement, and he’s not averse to including details he can take advantage of.”

  Four hours later, Mark and Wiflow sat on chairs in the jeweler’s workroom.

  “All right, what’s this product you want to make?”

  “First, we have to settle that anything I tell you is confidential. To me, this means if I describe my idea to you, you can’t tell anyone else or make the product without my permission.”

  Wiflow frowned. “Just out of curiosity, how do you think you could stop me?”

  “Well, for one thing, I could break every bone in your body.”

  Wiflow’s facial muscles didn’t change, but his eyes briefly ran over Mark’s broad shoulders, thick arms, and flinty expression.

  “Doing that could get you in serious trouble with the town’s magistrate.”

  “Maybe, but that wouldn’t mend any of your bones.”

  Wiflow smiled. “Well, then, let’s avoid any unpleasantness. I give my word I won’t make your product or tell anyone else about it. That’s probably a sure thing because it’s unlik
ely anything will come of this.”

  “We’ll see,” said Mark. “I want to take a short piece of wire, twist the middle into a loop with both ends pointing in the same direction. One end will be sharpened to a point, and the other end needs to have a small cup, cover, cowling, or whatever you call it, that the sharp end rests in to be secure from sticking a person. The loop in the wire provides tension so the two ends want to separate. When used, the wire below the sharp end is pressed to allow the end to come free of the cover. To use, the pin is pushed through layers of cloth or paper, then the pin point put back in the cover. Now the two pieces of material are held together.” Mark stopped.

  Wiflow wrinkled his forehead. “That’s it? What good is it?”

  “Think about it. It’s called a ‘safety pin.’ A person can carry them around in a pocket and not be stuck by the pin, keeping it to use in whatever comes up. You can hold clothing together, instead of needing ties or buttons, temporarily repair tears in clothing, secure bandages, fasten diapers on babies, close wounds either permanently or until stitching can be done, and even use the safety pin as a fishhook if nothing else is available. Then there’s use as a pin to lance boils, remove splinters, and be a toothpick. I’m sure there are any number of other uses.”

  “A ‘safety pin,’” mused Wiflow, sitting back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. “Safety pin. I’d have to figure out how to efficiently make and attach the cover—probably easiest by making the cover end longer than the sharp end, then pounding the blunt end flat and bending it into a trough for the pin. The alternative is to make the cover, cowl, or whatever we’ll call it, separately and then weld it to the wire. I could try several methods to see what works best.”

  Wiflow looked back down at Mark. “I’d have to complete a few of the pins to test them, but I don’t see a problem. However, what market is there for your safety pin?”

  “Well, to start off, every woman in the entire world.”

  The old jeweler didn’t quite roll his eyes, but the grunt and half-smirk conveyed his opinion of Mark’s statement.

  Mark wasn’t annoyed. He’d come prepared.

  “Are you married? Have a wife, daughters, nieces, or sisters in Tregallon?”

  “One of each.”

  “I propose that I pay you to make a dozen of the pins. You show them to the women in your family, and then we’ll talk again.”

  Four days later, Mark returned from work to find Wiflow sitting in front of the Hovey house. The jeweler jumped to his feet and rushed to Mark.

  “I’ve never been one not to admit I was wrong when it’s proved to me! My wife thought I was the cleverest man alive when I showed her the pins. At least, that was at first. Then she started complaining why hadn’t I come up the idea before? I wasn’t going to tell her the pins weren’t my idea, but finally I did to get her to shut up about me not thinking of them until we were old.

  “The family women want more pins as soon as possible. In fact, my daughter kept pushing me to make different sizes of pins for different purposes. That got me thinking that there might be uses for iron pins. They’d rust, but workers might have purposes that wouldn’t matter that much. I don’t know about the iron pins, but certainly the brass ones will sell fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if we could sell five to ten thousand right here in Tregallon within a few sixdays.”

  Mark had to restrain himself from yelling, “Yes!” and fist-pumping.

  “How long would it take you to make that many? And what about the larger cities? If you think we could sell thousands here, it must be hundreds of thousands if we include Kaledon and Brawsea.”

  “Wait, wait. I think they’ll sell. That doesn’t mean I can commit to making that many pins.”

  “Well, couldn’t you hire more workers, so it’s not just you alone making them? Once the procedure is worked out, I’d think one person could make hundreds of pins in one day.”

  “First, I couldn’t have my shop make nothing but pins. Besides my shop, I sell at the Godsday market because it’s what I’ve done for the last forty years. I enjoy the market and talking with people. I also sell my jewelry to shops elsewhere in Frangel. I’ve three workers doing most of the routine work. My son, Tomtun, and I do the finer pieces and supervise the others. I have jewelry orders I’ve committed to filling. I could see stopping the jewelry work for perhaps only a sixday to make the pins.

  “Then there’s the question of how much of a market there would be for the pins and how long it would last. Eventually, we’d saturate the Tregallon market. From then on, it would only be replacing pins lost or broken, which would be a steady market needing only one worker part time. The problem with wanting to sell elsewhere is that once the safety pins were known, other craftsmen would easily duplicate them. That means there’s no incentive to increase workers in anticipation of a long-term market.”

  Wiflow shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m only willing to divert a little worker time to this.”

  Deflated, Mark sat on the bench Wiflow had used while waiting.

  He’s right. Other jewelers, or who knows what other craftsmen, could be making pins within days of seeing the first one.

  “Is there any rule or law about . . . I don’t know the Frangelese word for it . . . something that gives the originator of a product exclusive rights to sell them for a defined period of time? Where I came from, it’s called a ‘patent.’ You own the patent, and no one can compete with you until the time the patent expires.”

  “Patent? No, I’ve never heard of anything like that in Frangel. Depending on where you lived in Frangel, I know that districts or cities might grant decrees to give exclusive rights to resources or products, but that isn’t the case in Dal-Kaledon.”

  “Dal-Kaledon? What’s that?”

  “It’s the district Tregallon is in. The territory surrounding Kaledon. Of course, Kaledon is a district by itself.”

  Mark realized he had minimal knowledge of the Frangel political system. He knew it had what sounded like a king, but he had no idea what authority and powers came with the title. He’d heard oblique references to authority, and Ulwyn had once tried to explain the system, but Mark had been so consumed by his own adjustment and then wondering how to raise money that he hadn’t paid attention. A foolish lack of interest, he now admitted to himself.

  “I’m not from Frangel and am not clear on how authority here is organized. There’s the king and districts, but what is in between, and how do power and authority flow? Is the king absolute, meaning anything he says is the law? Who makes the law? I should have asked these questions before.”

  “The king is the leader of Frangel. Right now, the king is Ordwain. He’s almost eighty years old and has been king my whole life. It’ll be unsettling when he finally dies, but his son and heir, Teowain, is widely respected and has stood in for his father the last few years—at least, in traveling around Frangel and passing on his father’s wishes to the House of Estates.”

  “All right,” said Mark, his voice tinged with frustration. “Neither do I know what the House of Estates is. You’d better go ahead and explain it all for me.”

  Wiflow guffawed. “For someone not from Frangel and not having years of understanding, it’s going to be hard for you, but I’ll try to give you a basic outline.

  “Frangel has ten districts. The three largest cities are seaports and have bigger populations than the next largest cities, so each of those three is a district: Kaledon, Brawsea, and Landylbury. It’s recognized that the people and societies of each of those cities have interests that are not exactly the same as outside the cities, so those people have their own districts. Tregallon is in the district surrounding Kaledon, Dal-Kaledon. The other two Dal districts are Dal-Brawsea and Dal-Landylbury. Those six districts have over nine-tenths of Frangel’s population. Then there’s the Nurburt District. It’s centered around the city of Nurburt in central Frangel. The rest of Frangel has scattered populations and larger land areas than the other districts. Kardlyn consists
of most of the land in northern Frangel not part of the seven districts I’ve mentioned. The Gundel District is most of western Frangel and to the Timbar Sea. The tenth district is just named South. As you can guess, it’s the southern part of Frangel. Few people live there because the climate is much colder and the land poorer. Probably hardly anyone would live in the South District at all if it weren’t for mining, trapping, and hunting. There you have it, ten districts, each of which has members of the House of Estates, which authorizes all new laws and changes to existing laws.”

  “And how are the members of the House of Estates determined?” asked Mark. “Is it hereditary, do the people select them, or what?”

  “Well, it depends which district you’re talking about. The Holders, that’s the title for members of the House of Estates, are chosen by each district according to their own customs. In Dal-Kaledon, the leaders of each community send a representative to a gathering every three years to select a list of candidates to be Holders. In Kaledon, an assembly of the largest property owners and merchants selects the candidates. Brawsea is the capital of Frangel, and there the Holder candidates are selected by three nobles who rotate among the top twelve titled nobles in the city. I’m not sure how it works exactly in all the other districts, though I understand South District does it by gathering anyone interested and they vote.”

  “All right, that’s candidates, you say, but how do you get from being a candidate to being a Holder in this House of Estates?”

  “That’s when the king has a part. He takes the complete list of candidates and chooses among them. The aim is to have Holders fairly distributed among the districts by population, a selection of nobles and merchants, and to include members of the two religious sects.”

  “Religious sects? I thought everyone was of the same religion?”

  “Oh, no. Most people in Tregallon follow Sholsterism . . . at least, they pretend to. In other places in Frangel, people tend to be followers of either Sholsterism or Morwynism. Most districts are mainly one or the other. Dal-Kaledon and Nurburt are exceptions, in that the population is divided between the two sects.”