“How do you buy things—what do you give in exchange?”
“Oh, we have laika—royla, suka and minta,” said he; and he drew from his purse that hung satchel-wise across his shoulders, some coins. The first was square, as large as a five shilling piece, and green in colour.
“This will purchase the most,” he said. “Five roylas make a laika.” The royla was exactly the same, but no bigger than a florin. “Then there are ten sukas to a laika, and twenty mintas.” The last two coins were of a bronze hue and as big as a shilling and a sixpence.
“I expect those five coins are equal to a fiver, a sovereign, a two shilling piece and a sixpence,” said Mavis thoughtfully.
“How do you get your money?” asked Sir John.
“Oh, from the Rorka,” explained the Waz. “I am a Waz—I receive one thousand roylas or two hundred laikas a murvin. The Jkak will get a thousand laikas, while little Morkaba, who is born of the workers, gets but ten and her food.”
“I suppose the shopkeepers make a lot of money,” said Desmond.
“Oh no. All members of the Omdurlis get one hundred laikas. All that they make above that they are bound to send to the Rorka. He places all the surplus in the general fund which is held in reserve for all Keemarnians. As each male Keemarnian reaches the age when he has seen the Kymo rise three thousand and thirty times, he journeys to Hoormoori, makes his bow to the Rorka, and receives from him his manhood. According to the station in life in which he has been born, and from which he has sprung, so he learns to take his part in life.”
“It is a wonderful system in theory,” said Sir John. “But how does it work in practice?”
“It is our custom,” was all the reply the Waz made.