19th Day of Winter, 513 AV
The Seaside Market
After the recent spat of hail, patrons had been wary of venturing outdoors, much to the dismay of the Keeper. Business was at a crawl so naturally, the man had become foul-tempered, swearing so violently it left even the paltriest whore aghast. At least, that was how it’d been for the past day or so. But much to her surprise, as she greeted Erick on the morning of the nineteenth, he was cheerful, breaking into a gap-toothed grin at the sight of her. ”Morning, m’girl! The sun looks well upon yer pretty little face.” He waved for her to join him behind the display.
”You’re in fine spirits,” she answered in kind. Piles of her little contraptions were shifted to one side, making way for his other, ‘appropriated’ goods. ”I am indeed,” he agreed, gesturing for her to sit. There were two, dilapidated chairs behind the makeshift clerk’s counter – one for him and one for the customer. She sank into her seat gracefully. ”After ya left yesterday, I got a commission.” The grubby little man smacked his hands together.
Oh. Her lips gave way to a smile. Commissions broke up the monotony. ”A couple of the locals approached me, ter see if I couldn’t make them a set o’ scales. They all run stalls here from time to time. Some get tired of customers bellyaching, complaining they were being had. So they want ya to first assemble a scale and if it works as it should, they’ll buy a dozen of ‘em or more.” Now there was an exciting thought. Scales were easy to make and could sell decently. Of course, she wouldn’t be seeing any of the money on commission. Alas, all that went to Erick. But at least she was promised a flat rate, enough to get by. ”That sounds reasonable,” she responded.
”Reasonable? M’girl, that’s a steal! Fifteen mizas a scale, at least. And since I get a wholesale rate on me parts, we can mass produce the blighters.” She nodded. ”O’course, you’ll be needing to tell me what to get.” She nodded. ”I can do that much right now,” she replied. Erick produced a sheet of paper and in kind, she produced kohl, ready to trace out a rough diagram.
Balance scales were relatively simple. They consisted of a horizontal lever called a beam, with a scale pan to each arm, usually suspended by a chain. There of course, was a support in the middle used to both stabilize the machine and to provide a fulcrum on which the lever pivoted. The pans provided valuable information on just how much an item weighed, provided of course, a standard mass was used on the other side. Without a counterbalance, scales were useless. One would need tiny blocks of varying weights as well, a fact that might have otherwise gone overlooked by the Keeper.
Why was he called that, anyway? Nicknames were given for a reason. In tidy script, she penned the design from the top down, drawing two equidistant circles for the scale pans, maybe five inches across in diameter. Of course, the paper wasn’t big enough (as usual) so she simply added the measurements in tiny margins, for the smith’s benefit. And while she’d offered to smith the things herself, Erick insisted he order the parts individually, so she could produce as many as he needed on a limited time frame.
Not that it made much sense. But she suspected he didn’t want to have to pay her more.
She guesstimated the chain at perhaps a foot, stating the requirement in a small disclaimer to be forked outward so as to attach to either side of the pan. The attaching however, she could do all on her own, thanks to the blessing of her god, Izurdin. All she needed was to etch a tiny hole through the metal with her fingernail. It was just one of the many advantages to being Isur.
The actual beam would be about seven or eight inches across, no more than an inch thick. She used the measuring device that came with her toolkit to estimate all that she could. Another wonderful perk of working blind. She couldn’t wait to finally open a business of her own, if only to cut out the grease-covered middleman.
Meanwhile, Erick had taken to again, hawking her wares. Blessed by the hand of Izurdin this, the finest gadgeteer that. Amael did her best to ignore him, keeping her eyes on the paper. Why did he feel the need to call attention to her? Was it because the Isur were deemed the world’s best smiths? Or was he trying to launch her career, so he could be the one to brag that he’d started it?
She continued drawing. Her hand was slightly unsteady as she penned each line, having to smudge some of the chalk-like substance here and there to start anew. She’d need a center beam with a loop at the top, to act as the fulcrum and a thick, sturdy base at the bottom. Very, very simple stuff. Maybe a foot and a half tall? That would keep the scales low, but not enough to have them hitting the table. Low slung scales always looked more impressive, at least to a person who knew not a whit about them.
With a gust of relief, she set the kohl to the side, dark smudges decorating her hands from finger to wrist. Mae penned the actual requirements on the back in list form, so Erick could understand them. Of course, the drawings weren’t perfect – in fact, they were more than a bit uneven, were she being honest. But they’d get the job done. The smith would certainly get the gist of it.
Erick brandished the paper, looking it over twice before setting it under a nearby pile of lock tumblers. ”Wonderful, wonderful. Be back to collect the parts in a day er so; I should have ‘em by then.”
She nodded. ”Until then, Keeper.”
”You’re in fine spirits,” she answered in kind. Piles of her little contraptions were shifted to one side, making way for his other, ‘appropriated’ goods. ”I am indeed,” he agreed, gesturing for her to sit. There were two, dilapidated chairs behind the makeshift clerk’s counter – one for him and one for the customer. She sank into her seat gracefully. ”After ya left yesterday, I got a commission.” The grubby little man smacked his hands together.
Oh. Her lips gave way to a smile. Commissions broke up the monotony. ”A couple of the locals approached me, ter see if I couldn’t make them a set o’ scales. They all run stalls here from time to time. Some get tired of customers bellyaching, complaining they were being had. So they want ya to first assemble a scale and if it works as it should, they’ll buy a dozen of ‘em or more.” Now there was an exciting thought. Scales were easy to make and could sell decently. Of course, she wouldn’t be seeing any of the money on commission. Alas, all that went to Erick. But at least she was promised a flat rate, enough to get by. ”That sounds reasonable,” she responded.
”Reasonable? M’girl, that’s a steal! Fifteen mizas a scale, at least. And since I get a wholesale rate on me parts, we can mass produce the blighters.” She nodded. ”O’course, you’ll be needing to tell me what to get.” She nodded. ”I can do that much right now,” she replied. Erick produced a sheet of paper and in kind, she produced kohl, ready to trace out a rough diagram.
Balance scales were relatively simple. They consisted of a horizontal lever called a beam, with a scale pan to each arm, usually suspended by a chain. There of course, was a support in the middle used to both stabilize the machine and to provide a fulcrum on which the lever pivoted. The pans provided valuable information on just how much an item weighed, provided of course, a standard mass was used on the other side. Without a counterbalance, scales were useless. One would need tiny blocks of varying weights as well, a fact that might have otherwise gone overlooked by the Keeper.
Why was he called that, anyway? Nicknames were given for a reason. In tidy script, she penned the design from the top down, drawing two equidistant circles for the scale pans, maybe five inches across in diameter. Of course, the paper wasn’t big enough (as usual) so she simply added the measurements in tiny margins, for the smith’s benefit. And while she’d offered to smith the things herself, Erick insisted he order the parts individually, so she could produce as many as he needed on a limited time frame.
Not that it made much sense. But she suspected he didn’t want to have to pay her more.
She guesstimated the chain at perhaps a foot, stating the requirement in a small disclaimer to be forked outward so as to attach to either side of the pan. The attaching however, she could do all on her own, thanks to the blessing of her god, Izurdin. All she needed was to etch a tiny hole through the metal with her fingernail. It was just one of the many advantages to being Isur.
The actual beam would be about seven or eight inches across, no more than an inch thick. She used the measuring device that came with her toolkit to estimate all that she could. Another wonderful perk of working blind. She couldn’t wait to finally open a business of her own, if only to cut out the grease-covered middleman.
Meanwhile, Erick had taken to again, hawking her wares. Blessed by the hand of Izurdin this, the finest gadgeteer that. Amael did her best to ignore him, keeping her eyes on the paper. Why did he feel the need to call attention to her? Was it because the Isur were deemed the world’s best smiths? Or was he trying to launch her career, so he could be the one to brag that he’d started it?
She continued drawing. Her hand was slightly unsteady as she penned each line, having to smudge some of the chalk-like substance here and there to start anew. She’d need a center beam with a loop at the top, to act as the fulcrum and a thick, sturdy base at the bottom. Very, very simple stuff. Maybe a foot and a half tall? That would keep the scales low, but not enough to have them hitting the table. Low slung scales always looked more impressive, at least to a person who knew not a whit about them.
With a gust of relief, she set the kohl to the side, dark smudges decorating her hands from finger to wrist. Mae penned the actual requirements on the back in list form, so Erick could understand them. Of course, the drawings weren’t perfect – in fact, they were more than a bit uneven, were she being honest. But they’d get the job done. The smith would certainly get the gist of it.
Erick brandished the paper, looking it over twice before setting it under a nearby pile of lock tumblers. ”Wonderful, wonderful. Be back to collect the parts in a day er so; I should have ‘em by then.”
She nodded. ”Until then, Keeper.”
