Casting On
an excerpt

Good gloves, he soon learned to his dismay, were not very cheap to come by in Cuairt Cradigh, especially at the start of the cold season. A pair of plain woollen gloves would only be about thirty copper, but plain woollen gloves didn't do much to stop the harsh cold of the winter wind in Cradigh. What he really needed was a pair of 'chanted gloves, magically made resistant against water, wind and cold, and those would set him back at least ninety copper -- closer to a hundred and twenty if he wanted a pair that would survive to see another winter. One hundred and twenty copper was almost a third of his savings, and a scarf would likely be another third.

"You'd think these would be cheaper," he groused at the owner of what felt like the hundreth stall he looked through. "Lady's Fists, they're made right here, aren't they?"

"Aye, lad," the man said, sounding rueful, "But most of 'em get shipped out. We only get a small number of 'em, and we have to pay the same price as those bastards from Maerdunn. We've managed a deal on these here, though," he pointed. "Genuine House Cerin, those are, and none too dear either."

Finn resisted the urge to snort. "None too dear" to this man was still just over a hundred copper.

"Aye, I know, but you'll save money in the long run on those. House Cerin," he repeated, "They'll last you five winters at least. Here, look, these are House Cerin as well, and six years old." He held out his hands to show Finn his gloves, and Finn had to admit, the gloves looked barely a year old, if that. And a hundred copper was hardly outrageous compared to some he'd seen. He picked up a dark blue pair and tried them on.

"Hm, they are quite comfortable," he commented. "Which 'chants?"

"Wind, water, cold, and I think those have got a minor one to slow wearing them out as well," the salesman said. Finn still hesitated. "Come on, lad, you won't see deals like this out here every day."

"No, you're right, I've been looking for two hours, I know," Finn admitted. "But it's a third of my savings ..." He trailed off, sneaking at glance at the salesman to see if he'd take the bait, maybe take pity on him and offer to sell him the gloves at a lower price.

"Worth it, though," the salesman said. "Besides, you're a mage, I can tell. You'll have double that in savings before the end of winter."

Finn laughed humorlessly. "Not on five copper a day, I won't."

"Ah, having trouble finding work, are you? Tell you what, lad, you buy those gloves and I'll see if I can put a word in with my contact in House Cerin, see if they're looking for another mage. I know it's not prestigious, but it'll earn you more than five copper a day, that's for sure."

Finn considered the offer. He was probable going to buy the gloves either way, but this could work to his advantage. He'd never even considered working for one of the knitting Houses -- most of them bred their own magic for their wares -- but he'd learned to knit from his father as a child, and it was rumoured to be well-paying work. Sure, most of his classmates and teachers at the Academy looked down on mages who did knitting work, regarding it as a waste of magical talent, but the only other real options for someone like Finn, who didn't have connections or money to get a position in a noble house or at court, were teaching, which he didn't have the patience for, and the army, which he didn't have the discipline for. The decision, really, was obvious.

"Deal," he said, reaching out to clasp the salesman's hand to seal the agreement.