Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

They spent half an hour poring over the sketches Locke had provided and the pages Baumondain wished to show him. Together, they hammered out an agreeable compromise on the design of the chairs that "Master Fehrwight" would receive. Baumondain fetched a stylus of his own and scrawled notes in an illegible chicken-scratch. Locke had never before considered how many details might go into something as straightforward as a chair; by the time they had finished their discussion of legs, bracings, cushion-filling, leathers, scrollwork and joinery, Locke's brain was in full revolt.

"Excellent, Master Baumondain, excellent," is nonetheless what he said. "The very thing, in shear-crescent, lacquered black, with gold leaf to gild the incised decorations and the rivets. They must look as though they had been plucked from Emperor Talathri's court just yesterday, new and unburned." "Ah," said the carpenter, "a delicate subject arises, then. Without meaning to give the slightest offence, I must make it clear that these will never pass for originals. They will be exact reconstructions of the style, perfect facsimiles of a quality to match any furnishings in the world — but an expert could tell. They are few and far between, but such a one would never confuse a brilliant reconstruction for even a modest original. They have had centuries to weather; these will be plainly new."

"I take your meaning, Master Baumondain. Never fear; I am ordering these for eccentric purposes, not for deceptive ones. These chairs will never be alleged to be originals, on my word. And the man who will receive them is such an expert, in fact." "Very good, then, very good. Is there anything else?"

"Yes," said Locke, who had withheld two sketch-covered sheets of parchment, and now passed them over. "Now that we've settled on a design for the suite of chairs, this — or something very much like it, subject to your more expert adjustments — must be included in the plans."

As Baumondain absorbed the implications of the sketches, his eyebrows rose steadily until it looked as if they were being drawn up to the fullest possible extent of his forehead's suppleness, and must be flung back down to the floor like crossbow bolts when they reached their zenith.

"This is a prodigious curiosity," he said at last. "A very strange thing to incorporate… I'm not at all sure—"

"It is essential," said Locke. "That, or something very much like it, within the bounds of your own discretion. It is absolutely necessary. My master simply will not place an order for the chairs unless these features are built into them. Cost is no object."

"It's possible," said the carpenter after a few seconds of further contemplation. "Possible, with some adjustments to these designs. I believe I see your intention, but I can improve upon this scheme… must, if the chairs are to function as chairs. May I ask why this is necessary?"

"My master is a dear old fellow, but as you must have gathered, quite eccentric, and morbidly afraid of fire. He fears to be trapped in his study or his library tower by flames. Surely you can see how these mechanisms might help set his mind at ease?"

"I suppose I can," muttered Baumondain, his puzzled reluctance turning to interest in a professional challenge as he spoke. After that, it was merely a matter of haggling, however politely, over finer and finer details, until Locke was finally able to coax a suggested price out of Baumondain. "What coin would you wish to settle in, Master Fehrwight?" "I presumed solari would be convenient."

"Shall we say… six solari per chair?" Baumondain spoke with feigned nonchalance; that was a cheeky initial offer, even for luxury craftsmanship. Locke would be expected to haggle it down. Instead, he smiled and nodded. "If six per chair is what you require, then six you will have."

"Oh," said Baumondain, almost too surprised to be pleased. "Oh. Well then! I should be only too happy to accept your note."

"While that would be fine in ordinary circumstances, let's do something more convenient for both of us." Locke reached inside the satchel and drew out a coin-purse, from which he counted twenty-four gold solari onto the little coffee table while Baumondain watched with growing excitement. "There you are, in advance. I prefer to carry hard coinage when I come to Salon Corbeau. This little city needs a moneylender."

"Well, thank you, Master Fehrwight, thank you! I didn't expect… well, let me get a work order and some papers for you to take with you, and we'll be set."

"Now, let me ask — do you have all the materials you need for my master's order?" "Oh yes! I know that off the top of my head." "Warehoused here, at your shop?" "Yes indeed, Master Fehrwight." "About how long might I expect the construction to take?"

"Hmmm… given my other duties, and your requirements… six weeks, possibly seven. Will you be returning for them yourself, or will we need to arrange shipping?" "In that, too, I was hoping for something a little more convenient."

"Ah, well… you having been so very civil, I'm sure I could shift my schedule. Five weeks, perhaps?"

"Master Baumondain, if you and your daughters were to work on my master's order more or less exclusively, starting this afternoon, at your best possible speed… how long then would you say it might take?"

"Oh, Master Fehrwight, Master Fehrwight, you must understand, I have other orders pending, for clients of some standing. Significant people, if you take my meaning." Locke set four more gold coins atop the coffee table.

"Master Fehrwight, be reasonable! These are just chairs! I will bend every effort to finishing your order as fast as possible, but I cannot simply displace my existing clients or their pieces…" Locke set four more coins down, next to the previous pile.

"Master Fehrwight, please, we would give you our exclusive efforts for far less, if only we didn't already have clients to satisfy! How could I possibly explain this to them?"

Locke set eight more coins directly in the middle of the two stacks of four, building a little tower. "What is that now, Baumondain? Forty solari, when you were so pleased to receive just twenty-four?"

"Sir, please, my sole consideration is that clients who placed their orders before your master's must, in all courtesy, have precedence…"

Locke sighed and dumped ten more solari onto the coffee table, upsetting his little tower and emptying the purse. "You can have a shortage of materials. Some essential wood or oil or leather. You need to send away for it; six days to Tal Verrar and six days back. Surely it's happened before. Surely you can explain." "Oh, but the aggravation; they'll be so annoyed…"

Locke drew a second coin-purse from his satchel and held it poised like a dagger in the air before him. "Refund some of their money. Here, have more of mine." He shook out even more coins, haphazardly. The clink-clink-clink of metal falling upon metal echoed in the foyer. "Master Fehrwight," said the carpenter, "who are you?"

"A man who's dead serious about chairs." Locke dropped the half-full purse atop the pile of gold next to the coffee pot. "One hundred solari, even. Put off your other appointments, set aside your other jobs, make your excuses and your refunds. How long would it take?" "Perhaps a week," said Baumondain, in a defeated whisper.

"Then you agree? Until my four chairs are finished, this is the Fehrwight Furniture Shop? I have more gold in the Villa Verdante's strongbox. You will have to kill me to stop forcing it upon you if you say no. So do we have a deal?" "Gods help us both, yes!"

"Then shake on it. You get carving, and I'll start wasting time back at my inn. Send messengers if you need me to inspect anything. I'll stay until you're finished."

"As you can see, my hands are empty, and it is unthinkable that anything should be concealed within the sleeves of such a finely tailored tunic"