Re: Second Age coins

From: Tim Ellis <tim_at_EXKjwxkioR_F_UnGReXxGOxX-yK0HvGQoqxyI8W052zLx_njBCJSEjpfS5ptHWU_ZoeAdC4A>
Date: Sat, 17 Feb 2007 14:30:08 -0000


Inspired by Neal Stephenson's "Quicksilver", I produced the following tale of Sartarite currency in the third age (previously posted to the Glorantha Digest). I'm sure things were not much different in the second...

Two Lhankor Mhy Scholars, Amald and Ingard are visiting a market when they chance upon the stall of a Etyries Merchant from Tarsh, selling EWF artefacts from Alda Chur.

Ingard indicated he was willing to open negotiations over the artefacts, The merchant inhaled and drew himself up to his full height, and blinked.

"You have Lunars" the shaven one said, midway between an assertion
and a question.
"That may be the coin of your realm," said Amald, "but they are not
welcome here."
"Lokarnos Wheels then? They are acceptable everywhere"
"Such Gold coins are fine for the glory of the Solar Empire in the
North," Ingard interjected, "but here in the South..."
"So how do you intend to compensate me?" Asked the Tarshite, "Ducats
from the Traders of Nolos?"
"Come now", said Amald, "We are Sartarites in the Kingdom of Sartar,
so we will pay in the Sartarite means."
"You wish to trade Cattle? Cloth? Bronze Swords?"
"How many Crowns will buy those two prisms?"

The Tarshite adopted a haggard, suffering look, and gazed at a point above Ingard's head. "Let me see the colour of your money" he asked, in a voice that conveyed gentle regret, as if Ingard might have bought some prisms today, and instead would only get a lecture in the unbelievable shabbiness of Sartarite coinage. Ingard reached into a pocket and wiggled his fingers to produce a metallic tromping noise that proved many coins were in there. Then he pulled out a handful and let the merchant have a glimpse of a few coins, tarnished black.

"You must have made a mistake" Said the Tarshite, "Which is perfectly
all right, we all make mistakes. You have reached into the wrong pocket and pulled out your black money, the stuff you throw to beggars and trolls."
"Ahem, er, so I did", admitted Ingard, "Now, where is my money for
paying merchants?" Then, as he patted down his pockets, "By the way, assuming I am not going to offer you black money, how many crowns?"
"When you say crowns, I assume you mean new ones?"
"New, as in, say, minted within our lifetimes?"
"Sartar has a new prince, Installed by Fazzur before he was relieved"
"Well, I believe I've heard that Termatain has started to mint
coins."
Ingard looked at Amald for confirmation.  

"My half-brother in Boldhome knows some one who once saw a Termatain
silver crown, displayed in a crystal case, on a silk cushion" admitted Amald.
"And tell me, Amald, is it true what they say, that these coins are
perfectly circular?"
"Indeed it is, Ingard, not like our good old fashioned Sartarite
coins that we carry in such abundance."
"Furthermore," Interjected the trader, "He has bought with him a
savant from the Holy Country who has designed a machine that mills delicate ridges and inscriptions on the edge of the coins."
"Typical Meldek extravagance," Complained Ingard.

"The Prince has spent too long studying the Brithini" added Amald
"On the contrary", argued the Tarshite, "if someone clips or files a
bit off a round coin with a milled edge, it is immediately obvious"
"That must be why everyone is melting down those new coins as fast as
they are minted, and shipping the metal out to the west..." Began Amald.
"...Making it impossible for the likes of me and my friend to get our
hands on any." Continued Ingard.
"Now there is a good idea. If you can show me coins of a bright
silver metal, not that black stuff, I'll weigh them and accept them as bullion."
"Bullion, Sir?"
"Yes"
"I've heard that this is the practice in Kralorea, Sir," Said Ingard,
savagely. "But here in Sartar a crown is a crown."
"No matter how little it weighs?"
"Yes. In principle, yes."
"So when a lump of metal is coined in the Mint, it takes on the
magical property of 'crown-ness' and even after it has been clipped, filed and worn down to a featureless nodule, it is still worth a full crown?"
"You exaggerate" Amald said, "I have here a fine Prince Sartar crown,
for example. Not for spending, you understand, it's far to fine for that. But you can see it is just as bright and shiny as the day it was minted - "
"Especially along the side there, where it has been recently clipped"
the merchant said.
"Normal, pleasing irregularities of hammered currency, nothing more."
Ingard said "My friends crown, fine though it is, and possibly worth two or three crowns in the market, is far from unique. Here I have a crown from the reign of Jarolar Longstride, which I obtained when the inebriated son of a thane, who happened to have borrowed a crown of me sometime earlier, fell unconscious on the floor - the purse in which he carried his finest coins fell open and this rolled out - I construed this as repayment of the debt, and the exquisite condition of the coin as interest."
"How could it roll, when three of it's edges are flat? It is almost
triangular" questioned the Tarshite.
"A trick of the light"
"If you would allow me to approach within 10 feet of the coins I may
be able to appraise their numanistic excellence," said the trader, "I could examine them with my magnifying lens to..."
"I'm afraid I would be offended" said Ingard.
"You can examine this one as closely as you like," proffered
Amald, "And find no evidence of criminal tampering. I got it from a blind innkeeper with frost-bitten fingers, so he had no idea what he was giving me"
"Didn't he think to bite down on it? Like this?" Asked the Tarshite,
taking the crown and crushing it between his rear molars.
"What would he have learned from that, sir"
"That whatever counterfeit artist stamped it out had used reasonably
good metal, not above 50% lead."
"We'll choose to interpret that as a wry jest", Amald said, "The
likes of which you could never direct against this crown that my uncle found lying next to the fragments of a soldier at the battle of Whitewall, for the soldier was a member of the Royal household, responsible for guarding the Mint."

The merchant repeated the biting ceremony, then scratched at the coin in case it was a brass clinker, covered in silver paint. "Worthless. But I owe a crown to a certain vile man in Bagnot, a Dara Happan who hates provincials, and I would gain a crowns worth of satisfaction from slipping this lump of cheap tin into his hand."            

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