Chương 78: Hidden Talents

Enzo watched him carefully. Even though Gerald hadn't done anything, he got the sense that the other man was coming to a decision on what to do. Then Gerald's eyes fell on the cane in Enzo's hand, and the man's shoulders slumped.

"Buttercup normally warns me when someone's comin' up the trail," Gerald said, glancing up into the trees.

"Dunno why she didn't this time."

"You didn't answer my question," Enzo said.

"Aye. I've got the magic in me."

"And Buttercup?"

"She's been my friend for over ten years. Was gettin' a bit long in the tooth, but then the blood rain happened, and she been flyin' like a spring chicken ever since." Enzo frowned.

"I've got more questions." He motioned to the blade in Gerald's hand with his chin.

"But first I need to know if we're going to have a problem." Gerald looked down at his hands. The knuckles of the fingers wrapped around the blade handle were white. He shook his head and relaxed his grip, then slowly placed the blade on the ground.

"I ain't lookin' for no trouble.

'Specially not with you. I've heard all about you from the hunters who bring me them hides and pelts." Enzo lowered his right hand. He hadn't consciously raised it, but for a moment there, he'd been sure Gerald was going to do whatever it took to protect his secret. He just didn't understand why. Then he shook his head.

"Wait. What do you mean by that?" Gerald turned his head and spit on the ground.

"Aye. Ain't no secret that you killed over a hundred zombies escapin' the city and crossin' the Golden Gate. And then you straight up threatened to gut and kill all them bikers and their families in town when they kidnapped yer girl." Enzo blinked. He opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it and closed it again. Gerald continued.

"Then there's that she-wolf you tamed." He swept the trees with a mistrustful gaze.

"I'm sure she's just waitin' and watchin' from the bushes nearby. My little Buttercup ain't no threat to you either, by the by. She's a sweet old thing." Murph was back home, sleeping in. She'd huffed at him in annoyance when he'd left earlier in the morning and asked if she wanted to join him on his rounds. Probably because she'd been forced to sleep on the sofa in the living room the night before. But the real problem was the absolutely ridiculous tales Gerald had just uttered.

"Who told you all of that?" Gerald squinted up at him.

"The hunters, boy. Ain't you listenin'?" He spat again.

"Anyways, I ain't want no trouble with you. Just want to keep plying my trade out here, in peace and quiet, with my Buttercup. I promise. Yer hunters can keep bringin' me hides and pelts and I'll keep sendin' back the leathers, in return for the food deliveries and a few other things in trade." Enzo was ready to give up. The old man rambled too much and somehow kept not answering his questions while sounding like he was.

"Don't you want to learn more magic? Or share what you know with other mages?" Gerald shook his head.

"Got the basics down already, and I got my Beastbond with Buttercup. That's all I need." He hesitated, then met Enzo's gaze.

"Please don't make me, lad. I know yer the High Magician or whatever, but I ain't interested in fightin' zombies and monsters and their ilk. I'm old and tired, but I can be useful just like this. I promise." Enzo sighed. Even though he was curious about the man's mention of Beastbonding, and what he considered the basics, he didn't have time. It was already close to when they needed to leave, and so far the conversation was going nowhere. He raised a hand.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything like that. I was just surprised to find out you were a mage, and curious about why you didn't seem to want anyone to know." Gerald stared at Enzo for a while.

"Oh." The silence stretched for a few more moments.

"What did you come up here for, then?" Enzo wanted to take a long, deep, calming breath, but he really didn't want to inhale any deeper than necessary.

"I have questions about your leatherworking. We're negotiating with one of the other settlements, and I'm trying to figure out if we have any useful resources to trade with them. Assume I know nothing about what you're doing, but that I need to know how much quality leather you can produce." Gerald scratched the back of his neck while casting his gaze around at his equipment.

"Depends what yer callin' quality leather." Enzo waited. Gerald sighed.

"Right. Numbers." He pointed toward the tubs.

"What you gotta understand is I ain't finishin' a hide from start to end every day. It don't work like that. Some have been sittin' for weeks already, and the heavier hides could take months before I'm happy with 'em. But I got different batches goin' at different stages." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. He gestured along the ridge.

"What you see here ain't all of 'em, neither." Enzo followed his hand. Through a gap between the redwoods, he caught sight of another wooden frame farther along the ridge, then a second beyond it, partially hidden behind a tree. Something dark brown had been stretched across each one.

"How many?"

"Frames? Dunno. Eight, maybe nine right now. Built a couple myself. Had some boys help with the rest. Plenty of room up here, and the wind's good for it." Gerald nodded toward the tubs.

"Those are more important. Got hides soakin', hides gettin' the hair loosened, hides in bark liquor. Then they gotta come out, get worked, go back in. Depends what I'm makin' and what animal it came off."

"And how much finished leather?"

"I'm gettin' there, boy." Enzo tightened his grip on the cane. Gerald gave him a suspicious look.

"Yer an impatient one, ain't ya?"

"I have a meeting to get to."

"Aye, aye." Gerald scratched at his beard.

"Once everything I got goin' starts comin' through proper, figure one finished piece a day on average. Maybe two here and there. All depends what's in the pipe. A rabbit pelt don't take the same work as a deer hide, and a deer hide ain't as big a task as somethin' bigger. Somethin' like them monster boars and whatever else be out there now." That was more useful.

"So around thirty a month?"

"Near enough. Could be twenty. Could be forty. Depends what them hunters bring me." Gerald leaned down and retrieved his blade from the ground.

"The real problem ain't how long the tanning takes. So long as I got enough tubs, the hides can sit as long as needed. Problem's all the work in between." He slapped the hide hanging over the beam.

"Gotta get 'em clean. Flesh 'em. Unhair 'em if it's meant to be leather and not pelt. Gotta scrape 'em and move 'em between works, then work 'em when they come out. Oil 'em. Soften 'em. And every damn thing's heavier when it's wet." Gerald flexed the fingers of one hand.

"Me old joints don't much like mornings anymore. Takes 'em till near midday some days before they remember how they is supposed to work."

"So labor is your main limitation."

"Aye. That and supplies, eventually."

"What supplies?" Gerald started counting on his fingers.

"Salt, for one. Got plenty right now. Had my own stock put aside, and I told them raiders to bring me every bag they find that Jack can spare. But salt don't grow on trees, and every hide the hunters bring me when I ain't got time to work it means I gotta waste more salt preservin' it." Enzo nodded. Jack probably wouldn't appreciate Gerald describing any amount of salt as something she could spare.

"Got lime, too. Enough for now. When that runs low, I can make do with ash and some of the older ways. Ain't as convenient, but folk were makin' leather long before anyone sold lime in a bag." Gerald pointed toward the barrels near the edge of the clearing.

"And piss." Enzo stared at him.

"What?"

"Piss."

"I heard you."

"Then why'd ya ask?" Enzo rubbed at his forehead.

"Continue." Gerald shrugged.

"Useful stuff if ya know what to do with it. Ain't hard to come by, neither. Few buckets around the settlement and I'd have more than I know what to do with." Of course he would.

"Bark's the big one," Gerald continued.

"Need a lot of it if this keeps growin'. Tanoak works great and there's plenty around if folk know what they're lookin' for, but I ain't got the legs to spend half my day wanderin' the hills strippin' bark and haulin' it back here."

"So you need people to gather it for you."

"Aye. Better if they're already cuttin' trees, which is why I had them lads that was buildin' your wall bring me plenty. No sense killin' good ones just for the bark if we need lumber and firewood anyway." He pointed toward the pile beneath the lean-to.

"Need water, too. More than you'd think. And fat or oil when I'm finishin' the leather." Enzo frowned. Apparently Jack's future soap industry was going to have competition for animal fat, but leather was going to be important. Eventually. Right now, leather was less valuable because they could still salvage clothes and shoes from stores, and they had modern water bottles and tents. They would last years with proper care.

Not to mention that they could scavenge farther afield as time went on, maybe even returning to San Francisco. But there was one thing that they needed leather for right now. Armor. To face the Eaters, Beasts, Rifts, and would-be warlords. With it they could better equip the Watch, instead of forcing them to strap magazines to their arms and wear several layers of clothing with copious amounts of duct tape to protect themselves.

From there, he could enchant the armor and create more magical items like the shield-rings and their bracelet-batteries. And once his people were fully equipped, they could start trading magic gear with other settlements and factions.

"What happens if we give you all of that?" he asked.

"More bark, more tubs, more frames, whatever else you need." Gerald stared at the hide in front of him for a few seconds before shaking his head.

"Still only got two hands." There it was.

"What if I give you another pair?" Gerald looked at him.

"An apprentice," Enzo said.

"Someone younger who you could teach." The old man's expression shifted as he considered it.

"Would slow me down at first."

"I assumed."

"Can't just hand some fool a fleshin' knife and tell 'em not to ruin the hide." Gerald rubbed at his beard.

"But if they got patience, strong hands, and know how to listen…" He looked around the clearing again.

"Could add more tubs. More barrels. Build another beam. Plenty of room for more racks farther along the ridge." He nodded slowly.

"Once they knew what they were doin', two pieces a day regular wouldn't be hard."

"And three?" Gerald squinted at him.

"Eventually?"

"Aye." He seemed reluctant to concede it.

"Maybe. With enough hides comin' in, enough bark, and someone else helpin' haul all the damn water and supplies up here. Three a day ain't impossible." That was considerably better than Enzo had expected. Gerald pointed the blade at him.

"But you tell whoever you send me that this ain't some easy trade they're learnin'. I spent most my life doin' this. They're gonna listen, they're gonna work, and they ain't gonna complain about the smell." Enzo looked toward the nearest open barrel.

"That last requirement might limit the candidates." Gerald grinned.

"Then find me one without a nose."