such fine meats as you find in that pastry which is, if I may be so bold as to remind Your Lordship, growing cold in your hand. This, as you may readily understand, increases my sales. The result is, my lord, that we will soon be leaving our quarters at Two Canals and moving to a fine set of rooms on the Street of the Monks, and have even been discussing the idea of having a child, which we have both wanted for most of this last century, my lord.”
“Well, then, Raf, I ought to congratulate you, and I do.”
“Thanks, my lord.”
“I am pleased that, at any rate, the new tax has not harmed you.”
“Harmed me, my lord? On the contrary, it has made me my fortune.”
“The new tax has made your fortune? Come, how can this be?”
“In the simplest possible manner. Shall I explain it to you?”
“Yes, Raf, if you will do so, I assure you that I will happily listen.”
“Well, this is it then, my lord. I had been selling each pastry for nine copper pennies—except, of course, to you. Well, between the new tax on wheat entering the city, and the new tax on meats, my costs have gone up, as nearly as I can guess, by about two copper pennies for each pastry.”
“Well, and?”
“So, of course, the costs to all of my competitors also went up.”
“Yes, that follows. And did you raise your price?”
“No, my lord, and that is the secret. I kept my price the same, where my competitors raised theirs.”
“And so?”
“And so, my lord, now everyone comes to me. Instead of the loss of business, which, as I understand it, the other pastry sellers experience, I now have people walking miles for my pastries. Of course, I may say that this is due in part to the quality with which I invest each one—”
“I will certainly agree with that, good Raf.”
“—but in large part I am getting the business that my competitors have driven away by raising prices. So, while I make less than they with each pastry, I sell many more than they—so much so, that each night for the past year, since the new tax has been passed, I have offered up prayers to Trout for the safekeeping of His Majesty. And that is how the new tax has made my fortune for me.”
“Well, it is all clear to me now, and I thank you for explaining it so well.”
“My lord, I am honored that you asked.”
Khaavren nodded civilly, and left the street vendor to deal with the not inconsiderable queue that had been patiently (or, perhaps, prudently) waiting to buy pastries while Raf finished his conversation with the ensign.
We ought to mention that it was now early in the evening, at just the hour when tradesmen and merchants were returning from their labors, beggars and prostitutes were beginning work, and His Majesty would be rising from dinner and going to his gaming tables or to his evening of discussing the hunt with his companions. Khaavren returned to his home like any merchant, tired from the day, and ready to greet his family and partake of his evening meal.
But this similarity between our Ensign of the Guard and the tens of thousands of merchants, tradesmen, and Teckla, which similarity we are obliged to mention because it passed through Khaavren’s mind every day at this time, ought not to be carried too far. For one thing, he had already had his evening meal, in the form of a pastry which he found, as always, delightfully flaky and perfectly seasoned. For another, the only family he came home to was the servant, Srahi, who had aged considerably and was now far more satisfactory than she had been—since, if she was no better as a cook or housekeeper, she was at least more taciturn.
And if this had been a day of remarkable occurrences in other ways, at least in this it was no different than usual: When Khaavren entered by the brass-bound door with the Tiassa crest, Srahi glanced up at him from her book, then returned to her reading without making any remark whatsoever. Khaavren walked by her, stopping only long enough to learn what
“Well, then, Raf, I ought to congratulate you, and I do.”
“Thanks, my lord.”
“I am pleased that, at any rate, the new tax has not harmed you.”
“Harmed me, my lord? On the contrary, it has made me my fortune.”
“The new tax has made your fortune? Come, how can this be?”
“In the simplest possible manner. Shall I explain it to you?”
“Yes, Raf, if you will do so, I assure you that I will happily listen.”
“Well, this is it then, my lord. I had been selling each pastry for nine copper pennies—except, of course, to you. Well, between the new tax on wheat entering the city, and the new tax on meats, my costs have gone up, as nearly as I can guess, by about two copper pennies for each pastry.”
“Well, and?”
“So, of course, the costs to all of my competitors also went up.”
“Yes, that follows. And did you raise your price?”
“No, my lord, and that is the secret. I kept my price the same, where my competitors raised theirs.”
“And so?”
“And so, my lord, now everyone comes to me. Instead of the loss of business, which, as I understand it, the other pastry sellers experience, I now have people walking miles for my pastries. Of course, I may say that this is due in part to the quality with which I invest each one—”
“I will certainly agree with that, good Raf.”
“—but in large part I am getting the business that my competitors have driven away by raising prices. So, while I make less than they with each pastry, I sell many more than they—so much so, that each night for the past year, since the new tax has been passed, I have offered up prayers to Trout for the safekeeping of His Majesty. And that is how the new tax has made my fortune for me.”
“Well, it is all clear to me now, and I thank you for explaining it so well.”
“My lord, I am honored that you asked.”
Khaavren nodded civilly, and left the street vendor to deal with the not inconsiderable queue that had been patiently (or, perhaps, prudently) waiting to buy pastries while Raf finished his conversation with the ensign.
We ought to mention that it was now early in the evening, at just the hour when tradesmen and merchants were returning from their labors, beggars and prostitutes were beginning work, and His Majesty would be rising from dinner and going to his gaming tables or to his evening of discussing the hunt with his companions. Khaavren returned to his home like any merchant, tired from the day, and ready to greet his family and partake of his evening meal.
But this similarity between our Ensign of the Guard and the tens of thousands of merchants, tradesmen, and Teckla, which similarity we are obliged to mention because it passed through Khaavren’s mind every day at this time, ought not to be carried too far. For one thing, he had already had his evening meal, in the form of a pastry which he found, as always, delightfully flaky and perfectly seasoned. For another, the only family he came home to was the servant, Srahi, who had aged considerably and was now far more satisfactory than she had been—since, if she was no better as a cook or housekeeper, she was at least more taciturn.
And if this had been a day of remarkable occurrences in other ways, at least in this it was no different than usual: When Khaavren entered by the brass-bound door with the Tiassa crest, Srahi glanced up at him from her book, then returned to her reading without making any remark whatsoever. Khaavren walked by her, stopping only long enough to learn what
Similar Books
