The negotiation took less than ten minutes. Master Vane was an extortionist when he had the leverage. But he was an experienced timber trader who knew the exact value of river margin.
He drew up a commercial contract in triplicate on his own firm’s thick parchment. Two silver coins rental fee, a four-silver coin bond deposited against cable fraying, and his own nephew, Tommas Vane, assigned to operate the steam-helped winch to ensure the machinery was not abused by common ditch-diggers.
‘If the boom cracks, apprentice, your committee buys me a new mast from the royal forest,’ Vane stated, dipping his steel quill into the ink.
‘The boom won’t crack, Master Vane,’ Pella replied, signing her name firmly beside his mark. ‘We’re using man-made nylon slings rated for five tons upright lift, engineered to absorb shock loading. Your cable won’t feel a pound of dynamic bounce.’
Vane took the two silver coins, checked their edges with a small steel balance scale. Then they tucked them into his iron cash box. ‘Tommas is down at the boiler house stoking the coal fire. The steam will be at eighty pounds by the tenth bell. Go get your gate, apprentice. And if you save my spruce logs, I’ll waive the four-silver coin bond on the cable.’
