The first thing people noticed about Darshinika was his deep green eyes. Even at night, they seemed to sparkle like emeralds. His mother, Pegah, liked to say that it was the blood of Alexander that ran through his veins, giving his eyes their strange color. Sometimes people whispered that Alexander was the name of a Greek mercenary that had passed through the city some years ago. But they only whispered.

Darshinika's two elder brothers, Jamasp and Stivant, were set to take over the family business of trade. Every three months, a caravan came from the East to the city of Mawran, bearing silk and tea and spices. Every three months, a caravan came from the West to the city of Mawran, laden with incense and amber and furs. It was to be job of the two brothers and the other merchants of Mawran to see that the goods from one caravan made it to the other at the highest possible markup, just as their father had done, and their father's father before that and so on.

Darshinika would watch his fathers and brothers late into the night as they talked about the prices of suchandsuch an amount of ivory or soandso many mules worth of lapis lazuli. Sometimes his brothers would catch him and scare him off. Other times, his father would see him and take him on his lap. He would tell the child about exchange and trade, how everything, from ivory to silk, was just a token of value. Sometimes he would tell stories about his own father and his grandfather, and marvelous things they had seen on their journeys trading silk and other fine things.

"Even then," he would say, "exchange was everything." Darshinika wanted it all.
-----
When he was six, Darshinika's father died in a distant city. Word came back to the family through another caravan, and for fifteen days, the house was festooned with black cloth. With Jamasp and Stivant having to take over the family's business, it was decided that Darshika's future would be in the temple. It was a place to learn and become a respected part of the community, to say nothing of making a tidy profit. The stone monastery was covered in jewels and precious stones brought by merchants who wanted prayers for their souls before setting out on a journey.

Four days after his seventh birthday, Darshinika was taken to the monastery by Pegah. When the monk came to take the boy, Darsinika tried to hide behind his mother's legs. The monk, having experience with reluctant acolytes, deftly grabbed the boy and hauled him away. Pegah waved goodbye to him as he struggled in the monk's grasp. Within the hour, Darshinika had had his head totally shaved and was fitted for the robes of an acolyte.

The boy was quiet as he began the chores assigned to all acolytes, and the green of his eyes went dull. When done with the chores, he walked around the compound until the elder monks told him to quit.

For months, this behavior continued, until his fellow acolytes actively avoided Darshinika and the senior abbot worried about the boy. However, after three months, it was decided that it was time for the child to begin to learn about the infinite compassions of the Bodhisattvas.

The teacher sat on a cushion, while the students gathered in a semi-circle, bunched up at the end opposite Darshinika. Darshinika sat, staring straight ahead.

The teacher began in a pinched, nasal voice. "The compassion of the Bodhisattvas, those who were worthy of Buddha-hood but chose to remain in our world, can scarcely be fathomed. We can only prove ourselves worthy of their love by two means: by mindfulness or by offerings. Our role, your role, is to be mindful of the Bodhisattvas. Keep them and their wonder, as well as the nothing that they are, in your mind at all times."

Darshinika's eyes remained dull. The other children tried to look as though they were paying attention, with varying degrees of success. The teacher continued. "Most people, though, aren't as lucky as we are. Most must work in order to provide sustenance for themselves and for us. They cannot be as mindful as we. However, they can provide offerings for the Bodhisattvas, so that even their unmindful work becomes in service to them. In this way, it is possible for even the humblest trader to attain great merit, so that he may enjoy the rewards of the great Heavens."

As the teacher spoke, Darshinika looked up. He raised his hand as high as it would go. The teacher halted, unaccustomed to being interrupted. "Yes, you, boy?"

"A man can purchase his way into heaven, then?" the young boy asked. His eyes lit up.

The teacher scoffed. "Wh- no! It is nothing of the sort! It means that there are many ways to attaining great merit! It m-"

"But it's an exchange! Mindfulness or offerings for merit," Darshinika blurted. The other boys in the semi-circle recoiled from him; no one had ever interrupted the teacher before. Darshinika seemed not to notice, his face still bright with enthusiasm. The teacher muttered something unspeakable under his breath.

That night, after the beatings for insolence, Darshinika could hardly sleep. This talk of souls and punishment and life was beginning to make sense. Everything was exchange, even the immaterial. Darshinika wanted it all.
-----
In time, Darshinika became well regarded within the monastery as a young man with a mind for figures. He could tell, almost at a glance, how many prayers a bolt of silk would offer a trader. Sometimes Pegah would visit and ask him for extra prayers for herself and Darshinika's brothers. He always refused.

He seemed to not mind the drearier aspects of monastery life. Once, one of the other acolytes had asked how he seemed so keen on sweeping leaves and scrubbing floors. Darshinika smiled and said, "Everything is merit." But in his heart, Darshinika wanted more.
-----
Ten years after Darshinika joined the monastery, Jamasp came ill and died suddenly. As Stivant had no children of his own yet, it was decided that Darshinika would help to run the family business.

As quickly as he had been placed in, Darshinika was pulled out of the monastery. He quickly adapted himself to the ways of trade. Instead of souls and salvation, he was dealing primarily in percentages and profit. In time, he and Stivant became two of the richest merchants in the city. With every successfully arrived caravan, Darshinika never failed to make a tidy donation to the temple.

After a few years, it was decided that Darshinika should marry. Zarana, a girl from a prosperous merchant family, was selected as the bride. During the negotiations for the bride price, Darshinika showed such a willingness to haggle that Stivant took him aside and explained to him how insulting it would be to undervalue the bride. After a few hours of further haggling, a price agreeable to all was reached. Two weeks later, the couple were married.

The two never had what anyone would call "love" or even "affection," but they got along well enough. Darshinika provided her with luxuries and servants, while she provided him with social support and three children whose names he always forgot. The exchange was agreeable to all parties. But still Darshinika wanted more.
-----
Twelve years after the marriage of Darshinika and Zarana, Stivant and his entire family died quite horribly at dinner one night. The wrath of a sorcerer, some said. Others whispered that Zarana had been seen around the kitchen that night, and that Darshinika had had something of a falling out with his elder brother. But they only whispered.

Whatever the wagging tongues wanted to claim, the fact was that Darshinika was now the sole claimant to the largest merchant fortune in all of Mawran. He became steadily more reclusive after this, withdrawing from public view in favor of negotiating deals from the inner courtyard of his palace. Months and sometimes years would go by before he was seen on the street. The people would have assumed him dead, but for the fact that ever greater numbers of caravans hired by him continued to make their way through the town every week, and large donations of gold and silk made their way to the temple in his name.

One day, a man wandered into town, telling tales of fabulous things to be found to the south. He spoke of a woman with three heads that would grant wishes and her husband, who had a face in his chest and whose lovemaking created earthquakes. He told of a race of men who ate through the soil as men walk along the earth. He expounded upon a wicked man, whose essence was bound up in words, and who could trade anything at all. It was this last one that caught the attention of Darshinika's youngest son, What's-Your-Name?, who then mentioned it to his father. Darshinika ordered the man brought before him.

The teller of tales was a ancient and haggard man, his skin darkened by years of wandering. His eyes refused to rest in a single place, running back and forth throughout the room.

"Tell me about this man who can buy and sell anything," Darshinika said.

"He's a cruel creature, what they call to the west a //djinn//. They say he was once a terrible demon who plunged the world into darkness before the Buddha himself stripped him of his body and made him reside in writing. He now seeks only to escape his prison," the old man said.

"Where can I find him?" Darshinika asked.

"Five day's journey south of here, in a small valley. That's where the writing he lives in is. But for the love of the Buddha, do not seek this thing out," the old man said.

Darshinika nodded. The old man was dragged outside, where he was unceremoniously strangled by one of Darshinika's servants.

The richest merchant in Mawran saddled up the next day with three loyal bodyguards. For the first time in two years, Darashinika was seen on the streets, heading due south. He wanted to make an exchange.
-----
After five days, the party reached the valley that the old man had talked about. There they found a cave, filled with writing in a strange and indecipherable language. Darshinika bade the men to stay outside while he looked at the writing on the wall with a torch. After a moment of reading, there was a flash before him that caused him to cry out. A great demon, with a face like a boar and the body of a dragon, stood before.

"Speak, human! You have not come here accidentally! What is it you want?" the creature bellowed. The men outside seemed to not to notice.

"I-I-I want to make a trade with you, demon," Darshinika stammered. The demon stared for a moment.

"What are your terms, human?" the demon said. Its voice was much more measured than before. Darshinika thought about Pegah and Zarana, about the servants and friends and contacts that he had managed over the years.

Three hours later, the body that had once been Darshinika emerged from the cave. The demon inside exulted in its ability to //feel// once again, to hear the screams of the guards it killed. Within ten seconds, the three guards were all dead outside the cave. The demon no longer had need to buy or sell; it now had a physical body. One with which it would raze Mawran, then all of Yettisher, then all of the world. The body of Darshinika smiled.

Darshinika had no awareness of these events, nor did he care. In exchange for his corporeal body, he had become an unmoored spirit, capable of moving from place to place in an instant. He could buy and sell all manner of goods, both immaterial and physical, and dictate their terms. If he had still had a mouth, he might have smiled. Now he could exchange and exchange and exchange, building up enough power to surpass the Bodhisattvas, even the Buddha himself. All he needed was time.

Time and trade.
-----
> Dear Mr. Benlash,
>
> It has come to my attention that representatives of the Library have come into possession of several works regarding the history of the Yettisher region, including the city of Mawran. Were this information to be sealed in the Archives, I would be willing to offer the location and services of one Water-Ox-House, the last living repository of the oral traditions of the Minoan peoples. If you find this arrangement agreeable, merely seal the information away in the Archives. I will see to the rest.
>
> Cordially Yours,
> Dark