r cargo value?"

"Six thousand teloa, Your Honor. We have----"

"Unload it. I'll look at it." Gerda waved the man to silence.

* * * * *

As the bales of goods were placed on the wharf, Gerda examined them
critically. A few, he ordered set aside after a quick check and a few
questions. Others, he ordered opened and spread out. At last, satisfied
with his estimate of the cargo's valuation, he turned.

"Your choice, Merchant?"

"I would pay, Your Honor," said the man, "to the tenth part of my
cargo." He extended a leather bag.

"Don't haggle with me," snapped Gerda. "The tax is a fifth of your
cargo, as you should well know." His hand sought his sword hilt.

The merchant's face fell a little, and he produced a second bag, which
he held out to the officer. "I must apologize," he said. "I am new to
this land."

"See that you learn its customs quickly, then." Gerda handed the bags to
his clerk.

"Check these, Lor," he ordered. "I make it a thousand, six hundred
teloa."

An expression of dismay crossed the merchant's face.

"Your Honor," he wailed, "my cargo is of but six thousand valuation. I
swear it."

Gerda stepped forward swiftly. His hand raised, to swing in a violent,
back-handed arc, his heavy rings furrowing the merchant's face. The man
staggered back, involuntarily raising a hand to his injured cheek.

As a couple of the men-at-arms raised their pikes to the ready, the
merchant righted himself, folded his hands again, and bowed in
obeisance. Blood trickled down his chin, a drop spattering on his
clothing. He ignored it.

"You would dispute my judgment?" Gerda drew his hand up for a second
blow. "Here is no market place for your sharp bargaining. For your
insolence, another five hundred teloa will be exacted. Make speed!"

The merchant shook his head dazedly, but offered no word of protest.
Silently, he dug into his possessions, to produce a third bag. For a
moment, he weighed it in his hand, then reached into it, to remove a few
loose coins. Without raising his head, he extended the bag to the
officer of the guard.

Gerda turned. Lor had gone into the guard house, to count the other two
bags. The officer raised his voice.

"Lor, get back out here. I've more for you to count."

He tossed the bag to the clerk, then stood, glaring at the unfortunate
trader. At last, he kicked the nearest bale.

"Well," he growled, "get this stuff off the wharf. What are you waiti