The Toolmakers returned home to the Volcanic Highlands, leaving behind Barak, their skilled worker. He persuaded them it was a good idea because he could maintain their existing trade and they could return in a few months with a better supply. Barak took possession of the few remaining tools and supplies, including the raw obsidian nodules, flint cores, bundles of mountain hardwood, and blades wrapped in cloth.
Barak remained camped just outside the village at the Crossroads Clearing on the path to the lake. His tent was beneath a wide acacia tree, allowing him to stretch an awning out to two sturdy poles. He laid out his wares and gear on a woven mat, using a large flat stone as an anvil for chipping and forming various pieces.
Barak had received few visitors, but on the third morning Raham and Selah came walking along the path together. Barak was pleased to see them since he knew few people in the village and they had already welcomed him. They supported his plan to remain to establish better trade relations.
“We thought it would be good to check on you,” said the elder. “We promised your tribe members, Garrick and Lira, that we would.”
Barak had learned to accept kindness and good intentions from the two. The gestures were still a little strange to him, yet he looked forward to the warm encounters.
Barak glanced up, then quickly back to his work. “There is no need to bother yourself with my well-being,” he replied, softening his face with a rare smile.
Raham spoke, “You have a pleasant spot picked out here. It’s on the lake path and really peaceful. The only problem is that not much traffic passes through, but with your skill, word of mouth will bring them.”
Selah returned a warm smile, “It is good that you have remained. Honest craft is always desired.”
Seeing that Barak was involved in this work, Raham extended passive hospitality, “Just let us know if you are in need of anything; rope, wood, or anything else we can provide.”
Barak laid his tools down, standing with a gracious smile, “I am very sufficient and plan to burden no one. I will make my way.”
The two nodded, leaving Barak to his work, walking close; their quiet conversation drifted behind them.
Barak’s rhythmic hammering became a familiar sound on the lake path. He rose early each morning, laying out his wares and beginning an honest day’s work. Barak plied the sparse number of projects he was granted. His determination drew the attention of the businessman, Naqam.
Barak noticed a heavyset man of large stature walking up the path. The man’s fine linen robe tailored his form. Several gold rings glistened as his arms swung widely. His approach gave off a scent of spiced oil and roasted meat. He formed a practiced smile, stopping in front of Barak’s modest display.
“I was on my way to the lake and your presence intrigued me.” Naqam boomed. “I have heard good things about you from the village folk. It appears you have much potential, but lack an eye for business.”
Barak, a little uncomfortable with Naqam’s demeanor, was taken aback by the loud approach. He hesitantly asked, “What do you mean exactly? I have been told my craft is better than most in this region.”
Naqam, sensing a bit of psyche Barak was displaying, quickly moved into praise. “Of course they’re the best, and I even have a few pieces myself that my servants brought last week. All that I’m suggesting is that you could use more… exposure.”
Barak possessed a steady work ethic, finding trivial tasks to occupy his day. “I definitely need more business,” he thought. Barak was a little daunted by Naqam’s stature, attire, and jewelry. His sure, loud voice gained Barak’s full attention. “A man of standing,” he thought. “Someone who clearly knows how things work here.”
“You have been with us for quite some time, Barak,” Naqam patted as he looked over the wares laid out on the ground. “Word travels quickly when an honorable man of skill is among us, and you should have better aids. Consider moving out of the dirt, taking over my vacant stall in the village. There your wares will display nicely and the work area will better serve you.” Barak listened eagerly as Naqam extended his new idea. “My stall in the village sits empty, waiting for a craftsman such as yourself. Don’t worry about a fee; we can work out details later, but for now, just make it yours.”
Barak couldn’t believe this excellent news. Finally, his hard work ethic was paying off, and someone had taken notice. Barak abandoned his discomfort. “I accept and promise to repay you.”
“Nonsense,” Naqam bellowed back. “Helping our neighbor is what we do here. Besides, I’m sure I will have a couple of tasks as time permits.” Naqam seemed to think for a long minute. “I will send my servant Zakar by to make sure you are settling in later day tomorrow.”
They bid each other good day. Naqam turned, retracing his steps on the path.
The following morning Barak rose, finding his bundle packed and ready from the previous night. It was heavy, containing all his carefully chosen items: finished blades, flint cores, and his antler hammer, leaving the rest neatly inside his tent. He situated the bundle over his shoulder, finding the village path.
Barak found the stall near the spice vendor, just as Naqam had described. Zakar greeted him with a pleasant smile. “I am to help you get settled,” Zakar explained.
Barak was eager to get set up and sat his roll on the ground, unwrapping its contents. “I’m not sure that there is much to do,” explained Barak. “Please, just inform Naqam how pleased I am with this arrangement.”
“I will,” Zakar said, still smiling. “Also, he sent this knife used for carving wood and would like to have it sharpened. It shouldn’t take long. Please attend to it first so I can return it to Naqam hastily.
Barak nodded, taking the flint knife to examine it. “Yes, this won’t take long.” He ran his thumb gently down its edge. Sorting through his roll, Barak found a small antler piece and immediately went to work pressure-flaking.
Zakar graciously took the knife, leaving as he came. Barak turned to his wrap, still lying on the ground, and began sorting, setting up, and arranging. His best pieces were placed in plain view.
A few visitors passed by, and Barak was engaged in multiple talks regarding his craft. No items were sold, nor did he gain any repair jobs, but he remained content in his new stall. “Prosperity is coming,” he thought as he packed up for the evening.
At first light, Barak was on the village path, wrap over his shoulder, setting a fast pace, and ready for the day’s potential. He arrived first, seeing Zakar at his stall waiting.
Zakar didn’t wait for Barak to unload his gear before presenting more requests from Naqam. “Please mend this donkey harness and see if you can salvage this hatchet,” Zakar asked, handing the pieces over to Barak.
“This one is quite bad, and will take me a while,” Barak explained. He pointed to the finger-sized chip missing from the hatched blade. “I will try to work around the gap, but it will never be like new,” he explained.
“I expected it to take time, and I will return later,” said Zakar.
Barak spent most of the morning on Naqam’s requests, even using his own leather for the strap repair. While finishing up Naqam’s requests, a few villagers stopped by, leaving tools to be sharpened or handles needing work. He stayed busy with paying gigs most of the afternoon, proving the better exposure was paying off.
By late afternoon Barak began packing up, and Zakar appeared to collect the harness and hatchet. Barak was still a little annoyed with Zakar’s demeanor and the expectations that seemed to keep coming.
“It was difficult and took up most of my morning, but I reshaped it here and here,” Barak explained. “It should continue to serve well, and the harness needed a complete new strap weaved as you can see.”
“Yes, that’s great,” Zakar impatiently took them. “Tomorrow, I will have a cart of wood for you to stack here at the stall and try to sell for Naqam as well. He plans to have more items as well, just so you know. You may need to move some of your items to make space for them.”
Barak protested, ”This is more than sharpening a few blades. Now I’m to give up half of my stall?”
“Remember, this is Naqam’s stall, and a man of your position should be grateful for his generosity,” Zakar shot back. “I thought by now you would understand our ways of helping one another?”
Barak’s face tightened. “Your help is a burden,” he contended.
Mara had just delivered fish brine to the spice vendor and was resting under the Great Olive Tree when she observed the encounter. Her eyes narrowed, watching as Zakar leaned in close to Barak. His jaw clenched as he muttered a final quiet word, then turned to leave the way he came. Barak’s head dropped as he steadied himself against the stall. She heard him muttering to himself, “An open hand can both lift and press down.” She watched as he stood, gradually gathered his roll to head back to the Crossroads Camp.