Sura spent the morning absentmindedly cleaning his products. He was an odd sort of merchant, never having a specific product. He dealt in exotics, this forcing him to travel often. It's odd how the concept of exotic goods works, he thought. The south wants the north, the east wants the west, it seems they like all things but their own. He looked up at the sun and marked his calendar and clock. Don't the wandering caravans usually come through this time of year?