Passages

by Olan Thorensen

  Mark’s head had started to swim as he tried to picture the Frangel political system.

  “So, how does the king select from the candidates, and aren’t there arguments about who he selects?”

  “A new House of Estates is selected every three years. It’s common that not everyone agrees with all the king’s selections, but the existing House of Estates has to approve the composition of the next House. Once the members are approved, the king meets with all one hundred Holders to get their views of the important issues, dangers, and what changes they would or would not like to happen. The king will then ask one of the Holders to gather a majority of Holders to support him as the Prime Holder to be the actual person to lead the country. If, after two sixdays, no majority is gathered, then the king asks another Holder, and this continues until a Prime Holder is confirmed and selects five to ten men to serve as the Estates Council—the number varies with the Prime and the current issues. The Prime is the leader of the Council that oversees aspects of governing Frangel.”

  Mark grunted, then cleared his throat. “No offense intended, Wiflow, but I don’t see how that would work. Sounds too complicated, no clear line of authority, and I’d expect the various factions to argue endlessly over which candidates are chosen. It also isn’t clear exactly what authority the king has.”

  “Well, I only gave you a summary. How it actually works is much more complex. What you don’t realize is that for almost a century, Frangel’s history was filled with terrible wars with Madyrna, the realm east of Frangel; fighting between the two religious sects; attacks on our coast by Krinolin raiders; and general lawlessness. This chaos ended only when the leaders of the two sects and several of the most powerful lords got together and established the basic government we still have four centuries later. Oh, there have been changes, but it happens slowly. Even though it was long ago, people still know of that dark time, and every child is impressed with how important it is to avoid internal strife. After all, we’re all Frangelese.”

  “I’ll admit I’m surprised they settled it like you describe. Humans usually cling to beliefs or eventually revert to conflicts over religion.”

  Wiflow laughed. “Don’t think every Frangelese went along that easily at first, but the meeting of sects and nobles set the tone of looking at the greater good first. For example, someone had to be king, but the nobles understood that if he came from one of their families, there would be no end of jealousy. That’s why they chose a widely respected minor family that hadn’t been involved in most of the fighting. The sect leaders also rose above many of their followers and together forbade fighting based solely on religion.

  “Naturally, none of this went smoothly at first. Records of that time are incomplete. Some scholars think it was deliberate, so future generations wouldn’t learn everything that was done to ensure success and prevent lingering resentments.”

  “I certainly respect those leaders if they got it to work,” said Mark, “although it doesn’t help me understand exactly how your system functions day to day.”

  “It does work, but no one thinks it’s easy. One joke is that a reason why no other realm would try to conquer Frangel is that they couldn’t figure out who was in charge and who to conquer.”

  Mark shrugged. Wiflow’s description gave him more insight than he’d had before—enough that he knew he was far from understanding Frangel. As his innovations became more impactful, he knew he would need to correct his knowledge deficiency. However, he doubted it was critical for his first introductions.

  “All right, so there’s nothing like patents, but how about this, Wiflow? What if we don’t offer any pins for sale in Tregallon until we have those ten thousand already made? Before anyone else could start making pins, we would have already sold those thousands. After that, it might not be worth anyone’s time to bother making more, and one part-time worker would be sufficient for you to replenish those lost or broken.”

  Wiflow pursed his lips. “That might work, assuming word didn’t spread too fast and give other craftsmen time to start making pins.”

  “We could do a blitz campaign,” said Mark.

  Wiflow’s blank look clued Mark to his confusion.

  “Blitz campaign. It’s a phrase used where I come from. It’s where we work to let the maximum number of people know about safety pins as quickly as possible. For example, I’m staying with Ulwyn and Gwanel Hovey. We could have Gwanel and all the women in your family go to every woman they know to show how the pins work. That has to be a hundred or more women. Then, we could tell the first few dozen women who come to buy the pins that we’ll give them a free pin for every woman who comes to your shop telling us who sent them. Plus, once this starts, it wouldn’t surprise me if almost every woman in Tregallon finds out within two days. From the women, the men will hear of it and start finding uses for the pins. Within a sixday, two at the most, we might sell everything already made. You could then take future orders with half-payment guarantees. By the time those orders were filled, we would have cornered most of the market, which would delay anyone else making the pins.”

  Wiflow’s eyebrows raised, and he took a half-step back.

  “Have you already sold these pins elsewhere in Frangel or maybe even outside of the Drilmar continent? You seem awfully familiar with selling strategies.”

  Elementary marketing, thought Mark, especially for someone raised on TV ads and shopping channels. My job with General Dynamics might have involved promoting light armored vehicles and tanks to various countries, instead of safety pins, but many basic selling principles aren’t that much different.

  “I’ve had some experience, but I don’t know how things are here in Frangel, so I can’t be certain what will work.”

  “I like your ideas,” said Wiflow, stroking his beard. “I’ll have to give this some thought. There’s the danger of getting too greedy and missing what can go wrong. However, I’m wondering if this blitz campaign might also work in the large cities. Travel between Tregallon and Kaledon isn’t that frequent—even less so with Brawsea. But if your ideas work here, there’s no reason they wouldn’t work in big cities. Of course, the problem with a blitz campaign in Kaledon and Brawsea is we’d have to have hundreds of thousands of the pins ready to sell right off. The only way I would even consider such a commitment is if the sales here in Tregallon were as great as you predict, and we sank all the profits into making pins for sale in Kaledon and Brawsea.”

  Mark nodded, relieved that Wiflow was thinking of details, rather than still deciding whether he should commit. “I agree with using caution and seeing how things go here in Tregallon. However, assuming it goes well, I’m willing to put all my share of profits into blitz campaigns in Kaledon and Brawsea.”

  “Well, now, that brings us to the division of profits. Since I’m providing the workers, my shop, and my own expertise, I think a fair split of profits, after expenses, should be four parts to me and one part to you.”

  “Eighty percent to twenty percent? I don’t think so, Sherlock,” Mark said aloud in English.

  He didn’t know the degree to which bargaining was expected in Frangel. He’d had plenty of experience in buying gifts for his family as he traveled on business: Morocco, Jordan, Chile, and India, to name a few places. Experience didn’t equate to interest. He had the usual American preference for simply knowing what the price was and deciding without discussion whether he was willing to pay. Nevertheless, he didn’t know whether Wiflow might be offended if he didn’t go along. He sighed.

  “Obviously, you’re delusional, Wiflow. Since it’s my idea and you wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for me, the split should be the other way around—four parts of five for me.”

  Mark knew the next fifteen minutes would be boring for him, but he suspected the same minutes would be among the day’s most enjoyable for Wiflow. He figured they’d end up exactly where both knew they would. One difference in their performances was that Mark had no intention of accepting less than an equal s
plit, whereas Wiflow likely hoped to come out better than he secretly thought was fair. In the end, it was equal shares of profits after expenses. Mark suspected Wiflow’s sigh of disappointment was due to the part of the agreement about maintaining accounting records for regular review. Mark would need to keep an eye on the elderly jeweler.

  As shrewd and expert in jewelry making as Wiflow was, mass production was not part of his experience, nor of anyone else’s in Tregallon, although Mark wondered about the mercantile communities in Kaledon and Brawsea. The next sixday, he spent an hour a day at Wiflow’s shop, observing Wiflow and offering occasional suggestions. Making more wire was the first task because they needed far more than had previously been required for jewelry. Mark watched small brass ingots be beaten to flat sheets, then cut into thin strips that were hammered round and pulled through a succession of stone dies to produce wire of the planned gauge.

  The basic safety pin design, as drawn by Mark and modified by Wiflow, took two days of making minor changes and confirming the design. Wiflow and Tomtun worked out the procedure before production began.

  The jeweler and his son did the first run of pins while the other three workers observed. The first full day of production they made 47 acceptable safety pins, accompanied by curses, workers’ questions about this ridiculous new project, stuck fingers, and Wiflow telling Mark he was about to abandon the entire idea.

  The second day involved all five workers, and they made 193 pins. The third day, 320. The fourth day, 944. The fifth day, 1,030. On Godsday, Wiflow manned his booth as usual, and Mark sat with him between customers, as they discussed the sixday.

  “Twenty-six hundred pins,” said Wiflow. “I think five of us doing the work could eventually make twelve hundred a day, but let’s assume a thousand to account for illness or unforeseen happenings. That’s the most we can produce per day. That might give us close to our ten thousand goal by the end of next sixday, but I still have a jewelry business. I’ll only be able to put two, sometimes three, people on this at any one time from now on. We’re all more skilled than necessary for this work. In the future, I can see hiring more men, but it will take time for them to be as productive as the workers I already have, and I’d be paying them much less. The other problem is that I’m not sure there are enough men who have the ability to work with small items, such as making the pins.”

  “How about women?” asked Mark. “They’re usually better at fine work.”

  “Women? Hmmm. You may have something there. Another advantage is, I wouldn’t have to pay them as much as a man.”

  So much for equal pay, thought Mark. I suppose that’s something I could help change, but if that’s the custom here, it’s to my advantage. Anyway, it could prove more difficult altering cultural details than getting technology accepted.

  “Of course, I’m not sure how many women would be available to work all day,” said Wiflow. “Most have homes to care for—except for girls not yet married, older ones who are widows, or those unable to find a husband.”

  Wiflow paused and drummed the fingers of his right hand on the booth’s tabletop. “No, it hadn’t occurred to me to hire women, but there’s bound to be plenty of possibilities because there are more women than men.”

  “Well, worrying about more workers is for the future,” said Mark. “With fewer workers, this will mean it will take two more sixdays to reach our goal of ten thousand pins.”

  “Only one extra sixday,” said Wiflow. “I think I might put more worker time into it than I first said. Of course, it’s not like there’s a deadline or anyone else competing with us.”

  Mark sighed. I know he’s right. It’s just that I’ve gotten excited about my first try at introducing something new. Patience, Mark. You’ve got to be patient to make the money you’ll need for bigger ideas.

  CHAPTER 8

  TWO INNOVATIONS

  Wiflow’s estimation of one more sixday extended to one sixday after another, testing Mark’s patience. A trading house in Brawsea had sent Wiflow a letter stating that a previously agreed-on delivery date for a large order of earrings had been moved up.

  “Sorry, Kaldwel, but this is an important long-time customer. I may be optimistic about safety pins, but the market for them is still unproven. I can’t afford to disappoint guaranteed business.”

  With nothing to contribute to pin introduction, Mark turned to a second innovation he had dabbled with in spare moments at Hamston’s blacksmith shop. He had on several occasions been a passenger on Ulwyn’s and Hamston’s wagons. One day, he rode alongside Hamston on the driver’s bench during a round trip to the other side of Tregallon to deliver a set of ornate balcony railings. The wagon rode well on the dirt road outside the town, but in passing through Tregallon, they traveled over a section of a cobblestone street in dire need of repair.

  “Good grief, Hamston!” Mark exclaimed, after a series of jolts to his tailbone caused by missing cobblestones. “Don’t they ever replace missing stones?”

  “It’s this street. I forgot to avoid it like I usually do. The city authority is in dispute with the neighborhood over who’s responsible for repairs. Supposedly, the duty is shared, but the two sides have been arguing for the last year.”

  Another jolt sent Mark into the air before he reconnected with the wooden bench in yet another spine-jarring impact.

  “Damn! It’d at least be a smoother ride if your wagon had springs.”

  “Springs? What’s that?” asked Ulwyn, glancing at Mark while simultaneously maneuvering around carts and people walking.

  Mark struggled to find a Frangelese word to replace the English he’d used. That was when he realized he didn’t know the language’s word for “spring” because he had never seen one or heard them referenced.

  “Uh . . . a coiled bar of metal that compresses under weight. They can be used to cushion shocks.”

  Hey, thought Mark, a figurative light bulb turning on. I wonder whether that’s something to introduce here if springs are unknown. Sure would help my ass if these wagons had them. I wonder how to make them with existing technology. Hmmm . . . wait. It’s really a leaf spring I should think of.

  Hamston’s attention was diverted as he greeted an acquaintance, which let Mark consider the new idea.

  Yes, a leaf spring. Simple in concept. He envisioned two arched strips of metal connected at their ends, so that they formed a leaf shape. It would take good-quality steel, which he didn’t have the skill and experience to make using existing tools, but he bet Hamston could do it. All he had to do was make a model to show the principle to the blacksmith. Maybe he could make Hamston a partner, as he had Wiflow with the safety pins. He figured different partners for different projects would be a buffer against individual bad experiences.

  His impatience with the safety pin project was difficult to suppress, but the leaf spring provided a good diversion. It was a month later when he felt as satisfied as he could be with the first pair of leaf springs. He expected them to break easily, but he only needed them to last long enough to demonstrate the concept to Hamston.

  “Hamston, there’s a new project I’d like to talk with you about.”

  “New project? The one you hinted at a while back?”

  “It’ll take some explaining, so I’ll give you a demonstration and details when you have time.”

  “All right. Let me get the others going on their work for today, and I’ll come to you.”

  Mark used two vises to hold the two leaf springs he’d finished into positions three feet apart and parallel. He was examining the setup when the smith returned.

  “Humph. I suspected this is what you wanted to talk about. I wondered what in St. Hulde’s name you were doing with whatever these are. Am I to think you’re about to tell me?”

  “Yes, that’s part of it, but I also need your help, and there will be a business proposition.”

  Mark turned to the springs. “These are called leaf springs in the language of the people where I come from.” He sat a th
ick wooden board on top of the springs and held it in place with his hands.

  “Imagine this to be the seating box of a wagon. The box should be bolted to the springs or the box attached to an iron frame, but for now I’ll hold it in this demonstration. I’ll ask you to put one of the small anvils on top of the board.”

  Hamston’s quizzical expression didn’t stop him from cooperating. The blacksmith was probably the strongest man in Tregallon, except for Mark, and easily lifted the anvil and set it on the board. The springs sagged under the weight. His eyes widened and he leaned forward, putting a big hand on top of the anvil and putting part of his weight on it. The board sagged slightly more. He relaxed the pressure, then repeatedly pressed and released before he switched to picking up the small anvil and setting it back down.

  Big and rough looking as he is, I sensed Hamston is one smart cookie, Mark thought. He’s figured out the purpose right off.

  “Amazing,” said Hamston. “This leaf spring of yours will take jolts away, as the wagon goes over rough surfaces. The driver would still move with bumps and holes the wheels go over, but it would be rocking and bouncing, instead of jolts.”

  Mark nodded. “Right! I think once people experience leaf springs making rides easier, every new wagon will have them, and I expect existing wagons can be modified.”

  The blacksmith continued to push on and release the anvil. Mark had to maintain the board’s balance.

  “That may be true,” Hamston agreed, “but what about also putting these springs not just under the driver’s seat, but under the body of the wagon above each wheel? That would take four of your springs but would keep the entire wagon body from sustaining sharp jolts that make wagons age.”

  Thank you, God, for smart people, Mark thought. Hamston sees the implications without me having to work at it.