Steven George & The Dragon
The Value of a Coin
ON HIS FOURTH DAY in the merchant’s company, Steven was beginning to get impatient. Other wagons had joined the merchant as they passed through towns and villages that now appeared on the road so frequently Steven couldn’t tell when he had left one and entered another. And to the sides of the main road many smaller roads led off into the distance. Twice they intersected roads as broad as the one on which they traveled and had been stalled waiting while wagons negotiated a turning from one into the other.
Steven suggested that he should get out and walk in order to get there more quickly, but the merchant admonished him that he should at least get through the city gates in his company.
“Is this not the city, then?” Steven said looking around at more people than he had ever seen in his life.
“We are still a day’s journey from the city,” said the merchant. “Granted you could probably walk and get there yet today if you could keep from being run over by a cart, but when you reached the city gates you would have to explain your business to the guards and they might choose to deny you entry. In my company, I can assure you entrance to the city as part of my entourage and guide you to a safe place where you can plan your passage through it.”
Steven acquiesced to the merchant’s suggestions and in the evening, they stopped at yet another inn for the night.
“Now, Steven,” said the merchant as they finished their dinner, “how much money have you?”
“Money?” Steven asked.
“Yes. Coins. Silver. Gold.” The merchant could see he was not getting through. He pulled a coin purse and poured a few coins out on the table.
“Oh!” Steven exclaimed. “I have two silver coins that I was given when I re-thatched a roof, and five silver coins the knights gave me for my service to them on the road.” Steven poured the seven coins out on the table across from the merchant.
“I must talk to my brother about the wages he pays,” said the merchant. “You should have had twice that for your service to him. Now, do you know what these are worth?”
“Yes,” Steven said proudly. “These two are worth half a day of my labor, and these five are worth three days on the road. I found that two silver coins could be traded for a bowl of watery soup and a closet to sleep in.”
“Hmmm. Yes,” said the merchant. “And by that logic, how many days could you last in the city?”
“As long as I wish,” Steven answered. “I can hunt and spread my bedroll beneath any tree.”
“Well, the problem is that there are few trees in the city and no game. You must stay at an inn or at several as you work your way across the city. Now in Byzatica, an inn will cost three silver coins for dinner and a room. Another for breakfast and yet another if you drink ale. So, if it costs five silver coins for a single night, how long can you stay in the city?”
Steven looked at his meager pile of coins. “Only one night,” he said, sighing at last.
“Yes,” said the merchant. “That is not enough for you to get through Byzatica. Therefore, I will propose another way for you to get coins that is much better than thatching a roof or squiring for a knight.” Steven was intrigued. In his village everyone shared common fields and flocks and traded with each other for anything else they needed. He had never seen a coin until he was with the tinker.
“How shall I get more coins?” Steven asked anxiously.
“Well, you sell things,” the merchant suggested. “The idea is that you buy things for one silver coin and sell them to someone else for two silver coins.”
“But if the thing is worth one silver coin, why would someone buy it for two silver coins?” Steven asked incredulously.
“Well, you see, things are not worth the same to everyone,” said the merchant.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Steven said.
“I believe in you,” the merchant answered. “For example, you may, in your travels, have acquired information for which you paid nothing. It is simply an experience that you have had. But to someone else, that information might be worth quite a great deal.”
“Oh. You mean like a story?” Steven asked puzzled.
“Something like that,” said the merchant. “Let’s say that before you met with the knights you had wandered high in the mountains and had come across a big lake. And somehow while you were up there wandering around, you encountered a very short man with an axe and his very tall thin wife. Now someone might want to know how this old couple was getting along and whether they were in need of anything.”
“Oh, I could tell them that,” Steven said proudly. “They are a fine pair…” he was cut off by the merchant.
“Now here is your lesson in commerce,” said the merchant. “How much will that information cost me?” Steven worked his mouth up and down trying to relate the concept of information and coins together. He had no idea how many coins he should ask for. Then he noticed that the merchant had stacked ten coins together and moved them slightly toward Steven.
“I should say ten silver coins?” Steven ventured.
“Now I am interested in your information,” said the merchant. “Here are ten silver coins. Please tell me how my dear parents are and if they need anything from their sons.” And so, Steven exchanged all he had seen and heard in the woodcutter’s house to the merchant and the merchant gave him the ten silver coins.
“Now I must explain to you the idea of equals,” the merchant said after he had paid Steven. “Here is one gold coin. It is only slightly larger than the silver coins, but it is worth much more. One gold coin equals ten silver coins.” He placed the gold coin on the table and traded Steven for the ten silver coins. “In the same way, some information is worth much more than other information. For example, if you had information regarding a wayward brother who wandered away from home to seek his fortune and was unable to find his way home that would be worth ten times as much as information about the parents. For one older brother would like to go and collect him and bring him back to his family where he belongs.”
Now Steven understood what he had felt long before. His journey had connected three brothers and their parents. He gladly accepted the ten gold coins the merchant offered him and told all about Jasper.
“He is in the town of Lastford. It is four hundred ninety-six thousand two hundred forty-eight steps and a wagon ride that way,” Steven said pointing back the way they had come, “across a lake and next to a great river.” In Steven’s mind, he knew exactly where the location was. He was not lost. The merchant looked sadly at Steven, then offered him two more gold coins.
“And shall I keep to the left or to the right?” he asked.
“I went always to the right when I walked from home to here, until the knights took me to the left. But then we came back to the right.”
“So, I should keep to the left,” the merchant said and handed him the coins. “This is good information. I wonder that my brother did not come back with you.” So, Steven told the merchant how he had started back with Jasper, but that they had encountered a storm and Steven had escorted Jasper back to the town of Lastford. The merchant had a tear in his eye.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” the merchant said. “Because you are a good man, and remind me of my brother in some ways, I will now pay you to take some information from me.” The merchant pushed ten more gold coins across the table. “I do not know if such a thing as a dragon exists, but if it does, you are poorly equipped to fight it. You need a shield and a sword. You would travel more swiftly if you had a horse. When we enter the city of Byzatica, I will escort you to an armorer. He will equip you with the right weapons. With them you will be able to complete your mission. He will charge you for the armor. You should not pay more than five gold coins for a sword and two for a shield. If you decided to buy a horse, do not pay more than ten gold coins, and make sure he gives you a saddle as well. Then hie you out of Byzatica as fast as you can go, for this city is no place for such as you. Now take that advice and go after your dragon. Steven humbly thanked the merchant for his advice and accepted the payment.
About midday the next day, they came with the throng to the city gates. The merchant paid the guard his tax for the goods brought into the city and they proceeded as the merchant had promised to the armorer. The merchant pointed out an inn across the road where Steven could spend the night. As the merchant climbed back into his wagon he called out to Steven once more.
“Steven George, Dragonslayer,” said the merchant, “Do you know any stories where the hero goes back home?” Without waiting for an answer, the merchant released his brake and the horses trotted off down the street.
Steven stared after him for a long time until a band of knights came riding up the road and dismounted in front of the armorer’s forge. There was a great deal of commotion and commanding and then the knights marched off, leaving their horses in the armorer’s care. Steven cautiously approached the harried man.
“Good sir,” Steven said, “I would like to buy armor suitable for fighting a dragon.” The armorer looked up at him, but did not deign to answer. He began to lead the horses away. “Sir!” Steven called after him.
“Come back tomorrow!” the armorer called back. “Can’t you see I have more work than I can handle this evening?” With that, he continued to his stables.
There was nothing for Steven to do but go back across the road and seek lodging at the inn. Here he got only slightly better shrift. The innkeeper was brusque, handed Steven a pint of ale, and pointed to a spot in one corner of the common.
“Sit there,” he said. “I have many guests. After dinner, if there are any rooms left you may have one. Otherwise you will roll out your bedroll by the fire.” Steven rather thought this was a better idea than a room, but after dinner, the innkeeper led him to a cold attic and told him to be down in the kitchen by daybreak if he wanted any food before he left. Steven lay out his bedroll and attempted to sleep with all he had learned. The room and meal had cost him four silver coins as the merchant had said, but it seemed the innkeeper had wanted more. It was strange that as often as he had slept under the stars, even with snow on the ground in the morning, it had always seemed warmer than this attic. He lay in his bedroll shivering and unable to sleep.
It was because of this restlessness that Steven was awake to hear the scrabbling steps on the roof above his head. He pushed a bit of the roof shingle out of his way and stuck his head through to look out. What he saw made his heart nearly stop. On the next building the dragon perched, then raised up and skimmed across the rooftop leaping across the narrow gap between one building and the next. The dragon was in the city. And getting away.
Steven hastily tied his pack to his back, grabbed his bow and staff and rushed down the stairs and out of the door of the inn. He ran up the street looking up at the rooftops in the direction he thought the dragon had gone. The moon moved from east to west across the city as Steven pursued the dragon and soon, ahead of him, he saw the dragon take a mighty leap from rooftop to rooftop. Steven loosed the arrow that he had ready in his bow and watched as it pinned the dragon to a chimneypot. He rushed to go and finish the job.
When he reached the house, he could see the dragon’s wings fluttering, pinioned to the chimneypot by his arrow. On the ground before him, a man moaned and pushed himself to one knee.
“Blast if you haven’t hobbled me!” the man said. “Are you a guardsman of the city that you would shoot an honest roofrunner out of the sky?”
“I am Steven George the Dragonslayer,” said Steven, “and I thought you were a dragon flying over the rooftops.”
“Well, it is like flying, see,” said the man. “But I was really just running along minding my own business. It was my cape that you pinned to the chimney up there.”
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Steven said. He helped the man up. “If you are injured, I will gladly help you home.”
“Yes, that would work,” said the thief. “If we are caught by the guards, we can claim to have lost our way after a night of drinking. Here, give me a hand and help me up the street. It is not far.”
Steven helped the man up and let him lean on his shoulder as they hobbled through the streets. In a short time, they came to a rich-looking house. Instead of marching up to the door, however, the roofrunner led Steven through a walled garden to the back of the house where there was a servant’s entrance.
“The key,” said the man. “It was in the pocket of my cape. Now what will I do?” he asked plaintively. Steven looked around for a solution.
“Doesn’t anyone else live with you who could open the door?” he asked.
“No,” said the roofrunner. “I live alone and my servants come by day. I’m a solitary man.” Steven continued to puzzle over a solution. Losing patience, the man continued. “See here. There is a window just over here. I can’t jump up to it because of my leg. Let me give you a leg up and you can crawl through, then come round and open the door for me from the inside.”
This sounded like a reasonable option to Steven, so he dropped his pack, bow, and staff on the ground and the man gave him a leg up to wriggle through the narrow window. Steven dropped through on the other side and after a few minutes stumbling around inside, found his way to the kitchen door and flung it open.
“Here we are,” Steven said brightly. There was no answer. Steven looked around, but there was no roofrunner either. He wedged the door open slightly and went out through the garden the way they had come in. The roofrunner was hobbling away, using Steven’s staff to hold him and shouldering his pack. Steven ran after him.
“Hey there, Roofrunner!” he said. “I have the door open. Where are you going?”
“Oh, what?” said the man. “Oh, you are the dragonslayer. See here, I’ve kept your pack and staff for you.”
“But you were supposed to wait by the door for me to let you in,” Steven protested.
“So I was,” said the roofrunner. “I must have knocked my wits a bit in the fall. Well, lead on Dragonslayer. Take me home.”
Steven relieved the man of his pack and staff and leant him an arm instead. The man gripped it hard as they went back to the garden door and entered the house.
“Well done, well done,” said the roofrunner. “You got in after all.” He sat heavily on a bench next to the kitchen table. “Find a light if you would, Steven George. It seems the fire has gone out. Then check the pantry there and see if there isn’t a bottle of spirits or some brew to drink. I must ease the pain in my leg.” Steven set about getting a fire lit in the kitchen fireplace and looked where he was directed for a bottle of something that looked drinkable.
He set the bottle on the table and the man took a deep draft and sighed as he settled back on the bench. “Sit down, Dragonslayer. Sit down. We don’t stand on formalities in this house,” said the roofrunner.
Steven sat on a bench facing the man, and for the first time, Steven’s eyes locked with the roofrunner’s. They were black as coal and so deep that Steven was mesmerized. He suddenly felt as though he could not look away.
“I am Ibin Arriaga,” said the man. “Welcome to my little lair, Steven George the Dragonslayer.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at nathan@nathaneverett.com.
