The Morning's Price

At the market, Danri and a merchant argued over the price of a sack until they forgot what was inside. The merchant called it rare; Danri, who had the goods in front of her, called it expensive. Tulra checked the weight and withdrew from the discussion: her scales had no opinion on elegant phrasing. Margen arrived to collect two sacks for a storehouse and stopped to listen. The quarrel ended when a dark-haired craftswoman with chapped hands bought the third sack at the marked price. She had work to begin and could not spend her morning proving who was right. Danri watched her leave. “There's someone who buys things to use them,” she said. Tulra packed away the counterweights. “You ought to put that on a sign. It would save you an awful lot of speeches.”