Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  “There are still four Aunts and Uncles at large,” I said.

  “With the destruction of most of the Family, that underground economy has been thrown into chaos if not completely destroyed. We are now seeing the effects on the official economy. Bribes are no longer being paid, loans aren’t being offered, thousands upon thousands of men and women are no longer receiving their salaries, with the consequent rise in poverty and financial ruin, and all of these have ripple effects upon the official economy.”

  Pogo pushed his spectacles back up his long nose. “I’m afraid that soon we will see a complete financial collapse as the wealthier citizens, fearing instability, make a run on the banks while simultaneously the people begin to riot once more over the loss of their incomes and the Family’s safety net. This has, unfortunately, resulted in a sharp drop in the government’s popularity. Mellonis and yourself are being held responsible for the collapse, and, well.”

  “‘Well’ what?”

  “Suffice it to say that I have heard that you both have been burned in effigy by the angry populace during spontaneous demonstrations.”

  “Burned… in effigy?”

  Pogo grimaced apologetically.

  “But I’m the one who helped free them from the Family,” I protested. “I’m the one who got rid of the sharks who were preying on them. Who helped pass the laws that will benefit them, that -”

  “Alas, they are not as appreciative as you had hoped,” said Pogo. “All they see and care about is that you are the man - or the Count of Manticora is, at any rate - who has demolished their homes, deprived them of their jobs, and ruined the local, unofficial economy.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Tell me you have a remedy.”

  “I do.” Pogo’s smile was all teeth. “The government must step into the void left by the Family. We really have no other chance if we are to prevent an extended period of uncertainty, chaos, and revolt. I propose we create a new department to compliment that of the provost of the merchants: a provost of financial administration, whose job would be to oversee matters such as taxation, inflation, and providing financial assistance to those in need during what you shall call the Transition Phase.”

  “Transition Phase.”

  “Precisely. A year, perhaps two or three at most, during which the government of Port Gloom acknowledges the upheavals we are experiencing and the need to transition from a criminal enterprise-based economy to a capitalistic endeavor where free trade, personal initiative, and entrepreneurialism are rewarded. I will create a department that will focus on evaluating applications for aid according to strict yet fair criteria, and which will disburse the majority of the confiscated funds back into circulation to ensure the liquidity of our businesses and commercial enterprises.”

  “And you will be the Provost of Financial Administration?”

  Pogo adopted an innocent look. “Have you any other nominees?”

  I stroked my chin. ”Netherys is very astute, and can wring money from a stone - no, I’m joking with you, Pogo. Of course you’d be the Provost.”

  “Excellent,” said the goblin. “We will need to further restructure the government, with the creation of an independent treasury department under my authority, along with the mint and taxation offices. I would like to review the officials currently in charge to ensure they are adequately skilled, and have free reign to appoint whomever I deem best to those posts I shall variously create or vacate.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Further, this must be done post-haste. I have thus taken the liberty of drafting the requisite bills you will need to introduce to the Star Chamber tomorrow. They explain with exacting detail the nature of our project, along with my financial estimates for the next year, along with comparable models as to what would happen if we failed to implement my measures.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Question: do you think it appropriate for us to request a percentage of church tithings? We currently claim no part of all donated alms.”

  “Probably more than we can afford to bite off right now.”

  “I feared as much. Very well. Fortunately, we have excessive cash reserves. According to my calculations, we’ve confiscated over five hundred and thirty-two thousand gold coins from the Family over the past three weeks. My investigations into your father’s accounts reveal another two million in both assets and financial reserves that we can liquify in short order, along with another three million that will be more difficult to cash in quickly but which -”

  I stared at Pogo in shock. “My father had over five million gold?”

  Pogo stared right back in disapproval. “This was all detailed in the crimson folder I gave you last week.”

  I waved weakly at the mess that was my desk.

  Pogo rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master Kellik. Your father had extensive mercantile networks built up over decades if not centuries, along with private holdings in virtually every civilized city, stocks in countless consortiums and trading ventures, and large amounts of gems, works of art, and bars of platinum and gold deposited in various banks. I guess at five million, but in truth, I can only estimate; attempting to liquefy such a prodigious amount of wealth would certainly destabilize the financial markets and send shockwaves through the continent that are impossible to account for.”

  My throat was dry, so I downed the last of my brandy. “All right. Fine. We’ve some two and a half million gold coins at hand. That’s enough to create a new department, right?”

  “Wrong. I won’t bore you with a lecture on inflation, but injecting that much currency into the economy would be ruinous. Instead, I propose we leverage that wealth by using the interest to finance our immediate needs, and getting the extant financial institutes to undertake our projects in exchange for promissory notes. The details are all outlined in this folder, and this one, with the appendixes contained in this one and this one.”

  I stared blankly at the mass of folders he extracted from various piles and set dead center on my desk.

  “Look, Pogo.” I rubbed my eyes with the base of both palms and slid back into my seat. “I’m just a humble king troll with the ability to tell virtually anyone to do anything and survive just about any wound. I’m not, ah, sufficiently educated to understand half of what you’re saying. Can I just trust that you’ll do everything in the interests of the city and its people?”

  “Well, I am going to award myself a pleasingly generous salary,” said the goblin. “But that probably goes without saying.”

  “Sounds like you’re earning it,” I said.

  “Pleasingly generous,” repeated the goblin, rising to the balls of his feet and eyeing me meaningfully.

  “Great. Just, ah, create this financial department with its new treasury, reform the taxation system, and then leverage our, ah, millions of gold to replace the functions of the Family and prevent a disaster.”

  “As you command, Master Kellik,” said Pogo, inclining his head. “I am, and remain, your most humble servant.”

  “Um, Pogo. Before you go. I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”

  “Taxation reform?”

  “No. I was talking to Cerys a few weeks back, and she mentioned a conversation with you where we incentivized good behavior through economic means. All of this…” And I waved my hand weakly at the piles of papers, “have convinced me that I literally cannot oversee every aspect of government, nor ensure that people behave the way I want them too. So I was hoping you could think of a way to incentivize them to, ah, be more civic-minded through financial or economic means.”

  “Hmm,” said Pogo, sitting down on a pile of folders. “Yes. I recall the conversation. A stimulating exercise, based on the rather imprecise definition of ‘moral good.’ Which we’d need to define first.”

  Feeling like I was getting in over my head again, I smiled weakly. “You know. Ensuring that everyone has a fair chance at advancing in life, that everyone has access to clean water, food, um, a chance at education if they want i
t…?”

  Pogo stared at me blankly.

  “You know. Giving even the poorest of the poor a chance to improve their lot in life.”

  “Hmm.” Pogo didn’t seem entirely pleased at the prospect. “What you are proposing would accentuate the friction between the freedom required in a truly capitalistic society - my personal favorite - and the governmental oversight required to deliver equality. We’re already leaning in that direction with the Transition Phase, but I had envisioned that as an intervention, not a way of life.”

  “What if we made it more of a permanent approach? A means to help level the odds the poor currently phase in getting ahead?”

  Pogo tapped his lips. “You risk governmental bloat and reducing the motivation that fuels a truly free market.”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Being the ruler of Port Gloom isn’t nearly as fun as I’d thought it would be.”

  Pogo made a sympathetic, if insincere, sound of commiseration.

  “Look, nothing is ever fair, or truly free. Not in this world.” I dropped my hand to my lap. “Society is full of conmen, Aunts and Uncles, mages with the ability to manipulate minds, dukes who can leverage impossible amounts of wealth, and a hundred other factors that make it impossible for the likes of a mudlark to have an honest chance. I mean, that was the whole appeal of the Family. To give desperate young people a dream of success, of winning against the impossible odds by cheating the system. So, you know what? I’m fine with getting away from a true market, or whatever else exists in a theoretically ideal world. Let’s level the fucking playing field so even a mudlark has a chance at improving their lot in life.”

  “What is your obsession with mudlarks?” asked Pogo.

  “I don’t know. One saved me once, before you and I met. Lugin. If he hadn’t met me, he’d probably have died before he turned twenty. I’m thinking of the poor folk like him.”

  “Hmm. Well… all right. What we sacrifice in purity we gain in social equity. I will think on how the Department of Financial Administration can best assist the likes of Lugin in the long run, and present you with a report in the near future.”

  “Thank you, Pogo.”

  The goblin gathered up as many of the folders as he could, and then bowed his head. “Until tomorrow, Master Kellik.”

  I waved a hand in goodbye and watched the goblin back out through the door. When he was gone, I refilled my glass to the brim and moved to my window once more.

  Lugin. I’d not thought of him in years. His pale, narrow face came back to me, his hair and clothing stiff with dried mud, his eyes alive with a terrible hope. Malnourished, short for his age, ignorant and uneducated, he’d saved my life and in so doing altered the future of the entire city.

  Where was he? How had he fared since I’d last given him some gold and sent him on his way?

  And was I really building a city that’d be better for him and his kind? The teeming, endless thousands of the poor, living one moment to the next, without a chance at a real job, each searching for a new scheme, a new way to make a couple of coppers and so survive to see the next dawn? The corner sweepers, the flower girls, the toshers who ventured into the sewers in search of valuables flushed down the drains, the gleaners, the endless beggars, the women of the night, an army of inventive, desperate, famished people, an endless throng of the destitute and the weary who lived in the shadows of the Garden and Palace Districts.

  Could I make a difference? Or was Cerys right, and my every effort would amount to less than a stone tossed into a pond?

  A knock sounded on my door, which then opened, unbidden, Cerys appearing as if summoned by my thoughts. “Got a moment, Kellik?”

  A second woman stood behind her, and I espied long white hair dappled with distinctive grey markings, like the faint rings on the fur of a lynx.

  Xandi, one of the women we’d saved from the Perfumed Cloud. A dozen of them had elected to join my household in a variety of capacities, though as far as I could tell that mostly meant lounging around looking beautiful.

  I didn’t mind too much.

  “Come in,” I said, moving to refill my glass.

  Cerys stepped inside and held the door open for Xandi, who was perhaps one of the more distinctive ladies of the night we’d rescued. Short, coming only to my sternum, she was half graymalkin, her features those of a beautiful young woman, but with the large, tufted ears of a lynx emerging from her pale hair. A tail lashed nervously behind her, but the combined effect was incredibly alluring; her eyes were slightly larger than a normal human’s, and faint, undulating stripes radiated from her jawline, temples, and brow down and across her face, so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable. She wore a modest combination of blowsy tunic and soft, woolen leggings that failed to hide her feminine assets - a full chest and broad hips, all of it wrapped up in the sinuous, feline grace of her kind.

  Cerys crossed her arms and moved aside, giving the half-graymalkin center stage. “Xandi has heard something I thought you should know.”

  I poured brandy into my glass, up to the brim, then stoppered the decanter, moving to sit behind my desk. “And what’s that?”

  Xandi hesitated, then dropped into a curtsey, which she executed with flawless, liquid ease. She bowed her head respectfully, then arose, tail swishing back and forth. She appeared otherwise calm, but it was as if her tail betrayed her true feelings.

  “My lord, I have many friends across the breadth of the city, and some of them are yet employed by the remaining Aunts and Uncles.” She glanced up at me nervously through long lashes. “This evening I heard from a good friend who is part of Auntie Yelentha’s court.”

  “Yelentha,” I said. “I know that name. The dark elf Auntie in the Palace District.”

  “The very same, my lord,” said Xandi, her eyes widening with admiration. “I should have realized you would know of her. But she revealed that the remaining Aunts and Uncles are planning to assassinate you. With every stronghold wiped out south of the Snake Head, they know their time is limited. My friend told me they plan to come at you in force.”

  I sat back against the window ledge, trying not to be distracted by Xandi’s considerable charms. “Makes sense. They’ve been playing defense since Aurelius died. An assassination team that’s resistant to my powers would be an effective way to get rid of me. Do you have any details?”

  “Alas, I’m so sorry. My friend overheard that snippet, but was too afraid to linger and hear more.” She bowed her head; pale, mottled locks fell before her angelic face. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”

  Cery’s voice was long-suffering. “Don’t overdo it, Xandi.”

  The half-graymalkin raised her head to grin at the Crimson Noose assassin. “I’m laying it on too thick?”

  “I’d say so, yes.”

  “But I do so enjoy playing the helpless waif.” And she stood up straighter, pushing back her shoulders, a wicked smile revealing twin canines that were longer than any human’s.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  Cerys sighed. “Xandi is incorrigible. I believe her news is authentic, but she insists on trying to corrupt everyone she comes across.”

  Xandi laughed, the sound light and tinkling. “Should an innocent girl deprive herself of some fun just because the world is going up in flames?”

  I exchanged a look with Cerys. “Really? She corrupted you?”

  Cerys smirked. “She’s tried really hard.”

  “Actually, there is more,” said Xandi, moving forward slowly, her walk all hips and sensual swaying. She placed her fingertips on my desk when she reached its far side. “But I was hoping to parlay my knowledge for your favor, my lord.”

  “There’s more?” Cerys sounded exasperated. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  Xandi was holding my gaze with a mixture of amusement and defiance. “I am but a helpless young woman without a future. With no home, no source of income, and no prospects. You, my lord, have wealth and power beyond measur
e. Even better, you are devilishly handsome. Is it strange that I would attempt to leverage what little advantage I have to better my situation?”

  Cerys moved over to sit on the edge of the desk. “You’ve been given a temporary home and an allowance.”

  “Yes,” pouted Xandi. “But if I am to be a pet, I would rather a different master, Mistress Cerys.”

  Cerys snorted. “Incorrigible.”

  I swirled the brandy about within my glass. “You would be my pet, Xandi?”

  “If master would have me.”

  “And what would that entail?”

  “A cushion by your fire. Fine food and drink, gold for me to spend on the best clothing, a carriage perhaps in which to take in the town.” She held my gaze all the while, her slit pupils reflecting the dancing light of my candles. “Your attention, whenever you can spare it. To pet me, to use me as you will.”

  I couldn’t help it; her self-assurance, her charisma, her overt sensuality - it was transfixing. “I can see how you secured your place at the Perfumed Cloud.”

  She pouted again. “A wonderful home. All I had to do was luxuriate in the attention showered upon me, and please each man or woman as they most secretly desired. But that is all gone now. And what have I instead? Cold hallways, the company of bored women, and a bleak future.”

  She leaned forward, putting all her weight on her palms, shoulders rising about her cheeks and causing her cleavage to deepen. “I’d much rather find other ways of passing the long evenings.”

  I laughed, and Xandi frowned, her ears flicking in irritation as she leaned back.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’m just admiring your effrontery. To attempt to seduce me so blatantly with Cerys right there. It’s beyond bold.”

  “It’s brazen,” said Cerys, equally amused.

  “Is it working?” asked Xandi, tone flirtatious, hopeful.

  “Yeah, mostly. But you see, your mistake was making me think about assassinations first, then coming on to me. I can’t help but wonder as to your true motives.”

  “You think me an assassin?” Xandi laughed. “I have slain many a man, but the arena has been the bedroom.”