Rick, sole proprietor of Rick's Rugs, leaned back against his stock of rugs and looked out at the busy square. Business was awful. Rick watched the people and chickens wandering the square. Vendors, fruit stand, clothes, caged animals, nobs on horseback. Every day the same scene. The port was off to the left. The castle, off to the right.
In the middle of the square a foreign princess in fine clothes was talking with her threadbare old servant. Both were on foot. The princess pointed off towards the port, but the servant waved toward Rick. The princess donned a plain brown cloak, drew the hood, and they parted ways.
"Greetings, my fair lady!" Rick told the old crone. "Please look around!" The wirey old servant harrumphed at his facade of friendship and started thumbing through the piles of little three-by-five-foot rugs. She would pause and rub her fingers over the backs, peering closely at the knots.
Across the square, Alice the fruit vendor tossed one of her apples in the air, caught it. She took a big bite and leaned against her cart chewing, admiring the day. That's good advertising, thought Rick. But she must be getting awfully sick of apples.
"Looking for anything in particular, milady?" Rick asked the woman.
"Looking! Oh yes, that's it exactly," she said. "Oh I could use a rug like this for my barren little bedroom. But I expect they are too expensive." She was examining a shorthaired tan one. "What fabric is this? Cotton?"
"Cotton! Please!" protested Rick. "That is a camelhair rug, interleaved with silk. FAR more durable than cotton." He shook his head. "Why, a rug made of cotton ... I'd more call that a TOWEL, than a proper rug."
"And you say silk is more durable."
"Silk is the finest fabric available," said Rick. And much more fragile than cotton, which is what that rug is ACTUALLY interleaved with, thought Rick.
"Oh yes, I see some of these knots are different. But that's linen, not silk, no?" pressed the crone.
"No," said Rick. "And what price range were you interested in?"
"I could pay ten bronze pigs for this one."
"What! Why are you even bothering me? That's only half a silver emu. This rug goes for ten emus."
The crone looked offended. "My princess Sweetpea, she is a delicate lady of wealth and taste. But she is also a skinflint. On my salary, pigs are all I've got. It's a coarse rug anyhow, only ten knots per inch. It's robbery for you to be asking a poor old lady like me more than an emu for it!"
"Only pigs! Out of here then! Perhaps you can afford an apple."
The crone headed further into the store instead. Out in the square a figure in a hooded brown cloak ran through, away from the port, carrying a small wooden keg under their arm. Shortly later there followed the gang of ruffians who hung out by the dock, yelling and waving weapons.
Rick followed the crone back. "Why are you still here?"
She was looking at much larger rugs now, fifteen by twenty feet, twenty times the size of the previous ones, but of similar make and the same mottled brown design. "These might go well in the castle drawing room," she mused. "I can't afford them myself, of course, but the princess, no problem. She's mentioned in passing that she was thinking about a carpet in there. She's trusted me on errands before. I know here tastes ... simple, yet refined."
Out in the square the ruffians ran back towards the dock. Shortly after they were pursued by the king's men on the king's horses, with a hooded figure in a brown cloak running behind and waving them on.
Rick watched the old lady. Camelhair made a sturdy functional rug, but refined, it was not. The patterns she seemed to favor were also nondescript in the extreme. And her refined princess, if he was not mistaken, was stealing things from the local bandits.
"You intrigue me," said Rick. "You look to all the world like a fleabitten old beggar woman, yet you claim to be a royal servant. And you have a far more discerning eye for rugs than your haggardly appearance would suggest," said Rick.
"Why thank you!" said the crone, "you look like the bastard son of a warthog and a baboon yourself. And yet you've amassed a respectable collection of rugs."
"As I'm sure you've noticed, this is a Gamaroon weave," said Rick, choosing to pursue flattery rather than insults for a bit. "Quite rare. Tell me, what is it like living in your royal palace?"
"Our palace, it's a grand place. Spacious! Elegantly decorated! But, just between you and me, it's quite boring. Pfflfftht for high society. Most of the time the princess, she just flits about rearranging her pretty things, while I look out the window. When she gets too deep into examining her jewelry boxes, I go to my room and do a jigsaw puzzle on a little table I have. I do enjoy these rare outings. I keep telling the princess she needs to get out more. She needs to practice her social interactions."
Out in the square, the bearded Simon Law, leader of the ruffians, walked by towards the castle. He was carrying a large sack over his shoulder. The sack seemed to be squirming.
"How about this one?" asked the crone.
"Four crowns."
"I'm sure the princess could afford that," said the crone, "but I'd never let her hear the end of it if she threw her money away that foolishly. How about ten emus?"
"Half a gold crown? You are mad."
"A crown, then? I'd only have to reprimand her for a week."
"Go. Go. I can't see how we have anything to discuss here," said Rick.
"You're a swindler, demanding prices like that," said the crone. "Must be your baboon ancestry."
There was deep boom from the castle off to the right. The people in the square stopped and stared. Rick looked. Part of the castle wall had collapsed, and a cloud of smoke was rising from it.
The crone clapped twice. "Richard! Focus!" She tapped her foot. "We were discussing your ancestry."
All the king's horses and all the king's men went running by again, back towards the castle.
Rick drew a hand over his face. He forced himself to concentrate on the immediate present. "Right. Ancestry. You are quite correct, my mother is a baboon. The royal queen of all baboons. She rules half this continent. It is to her eternal shame that I am nothing but a fabulously successful human rug merchant. Now are you going to buy a rug, or not, you old hag? Three crowns is as low as I can go. I'd be losing money on it."
"It's doing you no good just sitting here in your shop. Looks to me like you're stuck here alone with a bunch of old rugs."
"Normally this place is bustling," objected Rick, "but my assistants are all out acquiring new merchandise. It's just me holding down the fort until they get back."
"How about a crown and ten emus, and you throw in that little rug? I could let the princess slide for paying so much if I get a rug out of this myself."
The princess came in, dressed in fine clothes again, slightly flushed, straightening her hair.
"Did you just blow up the castle?!" accused the merchant.
"What! Why, I never ..." said the princess. "Emma, have you been putting ideas in this man's head?"
"I've been the picture of honesty, Sweetpea" said Emma. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Emma beamed innocence and goodwill.
"I did see what happened though," said the princess. "The castle guards took in a keg of gunpowder for safe keeping. Then they accidentally blew it up while trying to capture a bearded knave."
"Would that be Simon Law, King of Thieves?" asked the merchant.
"Hm, is that what his name is?" mused the princess. Emma arched an eyebrow. "Does this type of thing happen often in your kingdom?" asked the princess. "I could have been killed! Those guards should be shot. Or given their own comedy routine."
"But ..." said the merchant.
"Emma, you were looking at these carpets?" interrupted the princess.
"Oh yes! We were just negotiating a price for a rug for the drawing room. Rick here is actually royalty too, you know. He said we could have this one for two crowns."
"I said three," said Rick.
"He wanted ten emus for a three-by-five of the same make!"
"Shouldn't he have wanted three emus, since it's a twentieth the size of the one he wants three crowns for?" asked the princess.
"The smaller rugs are more per square foot, your highness," explained Rick, "to cover the extra fixed costs of handling and negotiations per rug."
"Three crowns isn't worth considering," opined the princess. "Two, hm. But I really don't know if it's the right color."
"Three," said Rick.
Princess Sweetpea ignored him and looked thoughtful. Then she finally shook her head. "Oh, it was just a passing thought. I don't really need a rug, I don't know if it would really work. I do thank you for your time, your highness." Sweetpea nodded her head, Emma curtsied, and they walked away into the squre.
As they were walking away, Rick came huffing out behind them. "I tell you what. I tell you what. I could sell you just the little one for three emus, so you can check the color. It's the same make and pattern as the bigger one. And even if it doesn't work, Emma here was interested in it for her own room."
The princess looked skeptical.
"Two, and I'll throw in five pigs of my own?" suggested Emma.
Rick rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I'm doing this ... two emus and fifteen pigs?"
"Ten," said Emma. "I've only got ten."
"Two emus and TEN pigs then," said Rick.
"Oh fine," said the princess, just wanting to get this over with.
"Deal!" said Rick.
They walked back to the shop. Sweetpea dug up two emus and Emma her ten pigs, and they handed them to Rick. Rick tied up the little rug. Emma slung it over her back. "Give my regards to your parents!" said princess Sweetpea as they left.
They walked a ways in silence. "What did you think of the big rug?" asked Emma. "We really could use something for the drawing room."
"I haven't really considered it," said princess Sweetpea. "A rug would ruin the massive bare stone vibe that we've got going. But this little one, this looks like exactly what I need. You checked that it is a Gamaroon weave, and of camelhair? The spell was quite specific on those points."
"Oh yes," said Emma, "mixed with cotton, every third knot. The merchant DID claim it was camelhair, but I checked carefully, and it really IS camelhair anyhow."
"A successful outing then. At least on your part," said the princess.
Emma nodded. "Now tell me about this Simon Law fellow ..."