by Tom Lloyd
‘Money talks, in my experience,’ Esber snapped, pulling a sheaf of paper from inside her jacket pocket. ‘To prove our position we’re willing to pay well above the current rate. In advance.’
Again Quelo and Udar exchanged looks. They rarely needed to make a business decision out loud, but these were unusual times. The Siym finances were strained to say the least, but as a result this offer could prove suspiciously fortuitous.
‘What quantities are you seeking?’
‘How much can you supply?’
Udar sucked her teeth. ‘Three crates, a hundred weight each.’
‘How frequently?’
Quelo blinked. ‘That is all until next year, after the spore is harvested again.’
‘I’ll take it.’
They blinked. ‘Perhaps you should come in to our office while we inform the kabat. Such an arrangement may complicate other business arrangements and, as such, there must be a ruling.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘There? Is there nowhere else?’
‘You have an objection?’
‘I have a … condition. Somewhere outside?’
‘What sort of condition?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It is an unusual request,’ Udar said. ‘One that comes in conjunction with an unusual offer.’
The woman sighed and pursed her lips. A twitch of the shoulder showed her trying not to glance back at her companions. ‘The smell of ink,’ she admitted in a more muted voice. ‘It is making me nauseous.’
‘Nauseous?’ As practised as they were in Parthish, the language of trade for all their northern clients, that word was unfamiliar to both.
The woman shrugged. With an impatient little gesture she mimicked vomit coming out of her mouth. Both Quel and Udar took a small step back.
The foolish woman’s male companion took a pace forward, a broad smile on his face. ‘You’re pregnant?’ he asked. ‘This is, ah, most pleasing news, Mistress Esber.’
‘Quiet.’
Quelo pointed to a side door. ‘This way.’
Udar led the way out into the central street of the Siym compound while Quelo issued instructions to the Junior Scribe and the strangers exchanged a flurry of whispers. Esber abruptly broke off the conversation as she followed Udar outside. With quick steps and a lace cloth to her lips, she hurried outside.
For a while the foolish woman merely strode up and down a short stretch of street, face turned skyward and taking long, deep breaths as she cleared the nausea. Quelo and Udar watched her cautiously. They knew such sensitivities could occur in pregnant women, though Esber was clearly not far along.
The Olostiran man cleared his throat as they watched her recover herself.
‘Perhaps, the trees?’ he said, indicating the small grove that stood at the end of the office building. ‘We may wait there for word from the kabat?’
Quelo nodded and they set off side by side, leaving the others to follow. Passing the wide street that led to the Siym palace, where Quelo and Udar had modest apartments, the strangers naturally paused to appreciate the sight.
The south wing of the palace was by far the larger of the two. Built in typical Nquet Dam fashion, the main wing was composed of linked blocks, bridges and walkways, six storeys at its highest and set around a central courtyard. A large hall abutted that, linking it to the three-storey curling north wing, from the broad balconies of which leaves trailed down each flank. Hidden by that was the inner shoreline, the kabat’s private garden on one side and the docks the other.
Continuing, they passed a round watchtower that overlooked the western wall and the Mastrunner quarters beyond. The grove itself was a square of greenery protected by a ridge of stone, twenty yards across with a tall silver leaf fig tree in the centre and the unlovely bulk of warehouses on two flanks.
The group had to step aside to allow a trio of laden carts past, the five Mastrunners leading them each signalling their respect to Quelo and Udar as they passed. While they waited, Quelo noticed their male guest staring all around at the Holding. Aware that there were clear signs of disrepair and disorder, he pointedly cleared his throat.
‘Might I enquire how a man of high standing from Olostir came to find himself as part of a trade consortium in Sha Sain?’ he said.
The man smiled. ‘There, ah, there was a mistake with a pig.’
Quelo blinked. ‘A pig?’
‘Indeed.’
There came a coarse laugh from the white woman, Esber. ‘Was it pregnant?’ she called.
‘It was not,’ he replied with a raised eyebrow at the woman that conveyed nothing to Quelo, but elicited a gesture he assumed to be insulting from Esber. ‘My mistake was not the same as my colleague’s. My mistake was how loudly I likened it to a … a kabat, you would say here.’
‘Would that not result in a duel, from what I understand of your homeland?’
‘Normally yes.’ He gave an embarrassed cough. ‘The accuracy of the statement did not help matters, nor in whose presence it had been made. There were other, regretful, incidents that followed too.’
‘Oh?’
‘Public denouncements, retainers brawling, business deals falling through. Her lover being pinned to a wall by a rapier through his scrotum – we both came to regret that. The theft of her most valuable possession, however, well. Only one of us was unhappy there.’
Quelo said nothing in response. The shifting piratical state of the Mage Islands meant such deeds were hardly unheard of, but they were senior clerks who lived in a palace. No doubt the kabat would have been amused, found some witty response even, but the whole subject was beyond both Quelo and Udar.
They sat on stone benches under the fig tree while the foolish woman paced theatrically around the grove. Without further small talk to distract them, the prospective trading partners continued to survey what they could of their surroundings. The Holding was situated on the larger island of Nquet Dam and enjoyed one of the largest private shorelines. From their jetties, Siym boats could travel almost directly through the garden-islands that dotted the shallows and across to the spice islands they controlled.
Refreshments were brought by one of the clerks. They drank red tea in polite silence until at last word came back from the kabat, or as it turned out, the Holding’s Chancellor, who spoke with Kabat Siym’s authority. The Chancellor’s principal secretary spoke quietly into Udar’s ear while Quelo caught enough to understand.
‘You request is accepted,’ Udar informed the Sha Sain trio. ‘There is an elevated initial price, however, given the unusual circumstances, which will be reduced should an ongoing relationship be established.’
‘How much?’
‘Three times the wholesale price with transport fees on top. There are further conditions, naturally, those will be included in the contract. Principal among them is the advance payment.’
‘How much?’ Udar asked again, but warily now.
‘Fifty per cent in advance, the balance of funds to be released upon consignment delivery.’
The woman laughed, but there was murder in her eyes. ‘Such a price is insulting.’
‘Nevertheless, that is the price.’
‘Ulfer’s horn it is!’ Her bark of anger drew the attention of two passing Mastrunners but Udar waved them away. ‘Three times the price and half up front means you’d make your usual profit without even letting it out the door. I’ll pay a fifth when we sign the contract, the balance on departure of the barge. You get more in advance than you would normally and still have the incentive to deliver.’
‘This is not how we do business.’
‘Me neither,’ she said with a fierce grin. ‘Someone tells me to my face they’re going to fuck me, I don’t care what profit I might make next year.’
‘We are not ignorant,’ the Olostiran man broke in. ‘This price is not usual in any circumstance and it confirms rumours we have heard.’
‘Rumour has no place here.’
‘Oh but it does. The Siym are
short on their loans, this is known. This deal shall be lucrative for us both, but we are not the ones in need of improved finances.’
‘You overestimate the impact of one deal,’ Quelo said, the mere mention of their loans provoking a bitter taste in his mouth.
‘Then add another condition to your contract,’ Esber said. ‘Next season’s entire harvest of yellow-spice – what weight would that be?’
‘Twenty crates, should we choose to renege on all current contracts.’
All three members of the Sha Sain consortium smiled widely.
‘Interesting,’ Esber said brightly. ‘Suggest to your kabat the following – a fifth upon signature of our contract, release of remaining funds upon consignment delivery. In addition a down-payment on next year’s entire crop at double your standard rate, let us say another fifth, also released to you.’
‘Triple the usual price,’ Quelo said before adding, ‘assuming the kabat approves.’
She shook her head. ‘Double. I am not here to fix your finances and if I buy such bulk, I require a better price.’
‘She will not agree to double,’ Udar said. ‘There are too many agreements to breach. Double and one half is our best assessment.’
‘Agreed. We will return in two days.’ The less-than-foolish woman stood and placed a hand on her belly. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I have some surprising news to pass on.’
Chapter 14
Shit, mebbe I am becoming one of the Cards.
Sitain carefully removed her hand from her holstered mage-pistol and hoped no one had noticed. Outside the lodgings there was a man – several in fact, but only one had made her want to start shooting. But her last target practice had been on the barge and had left Lynx grinding his teeth with frustration. The stranger was probably the safest person there, but that didn’t stop her urge to shoot him in the face. None of their usual watchers were in sight. Whether they’d given up or run off to report was anyone’s guess.
The newcomer was extremely tall and thin – not ill but elongated somehow. He reminded Sitain of the Wisps they’d encountered in Shadows Deep. Pale skin told its own story in this sun-drenched sailor’s city, while long luxuriant black hair billowed in the breeze. It was his predatory eyes that made her want to kill him though.
‘Good morning,’ he said with a deep bow. ‘Mistress Lastani Ufre, I presume?’
He was a mage, that much was obvious from his coat. Lightweight, long and grey, it hung off his frame and flapped like a scarecrow’s. Three long stripes ran down his right side, two purple and one white. His companions, standing like guards behind, wore tunics of grey bearing the same stripes.
‘I am,’ Lastani said, slightly stiffly; probably also trying to restrain the urge to kill everything in sight. Or not, Sitain accepted upon reflection. She’d not spent as much time around the Cards. ‘May I assist you?’
‘Quite the opposite, my dear,’ the man said, beaming with all the warmth of a lizard trying very hard to replicate a human smile. ‘I am Guildmaster Tanimbor, I have heard great things about you all.’
‘All? Like what?’ Sitain found herself saying.
Tanimbor blinked at her, his expression not changing at all. ‘That you investigated the Labyrinth of Jarrazir, that you discovered something unexpected down there, and that you are quite remarkably powerful now.’
‘Oh.’
He took a step forward. Tanimbor looked to be about fifty, his guards half that.
Strange for a mage to come with guards, Sitain thought. Is he that powerful or got that many enemies?
‘I have come to offer my assistance, should you require it.’
‘Would that not be better offered at the Shard’s Rest?’ Lastani replied. ‘That is where we are going.’
‘I am, ah, unwelcome there. The politics of this city is a game of self-importance, one I choose not to play.’
‘Refusing to play gets you banned from the principal mage forum in the city?’ Atieno said with a frown. ‘Or deciding to break the rules?’
‘Some rules cry out to be broken.’ Tanimbor shrugged. ‘You will no doubt hear many lies about me, should you trouble yourselves to ask. I am the Shard’s principal opponent among the guilds and gossip is everything to the mages here.’
‘What assistance can you offer us, then?’ Lastani asked. ‘Does your guild have a private library you mean to open to us?’
‘Unfortunately not, it is a young guild and does not amass such things. No – instead I offer you sanctuary, should you wish it. I know how they play their games, how they control and manipulate. They do not like unaffiliated mages here. I am sure you will see that all too soon.’
‘I’ve heard as much, but what sanctuary can you offer from the guilds when you lead one yourself?’
‘It is my concession to politics – my guild is not run like the others.’ He gave a fussy little cough of amusement. ‘Some joke that it is the guild of misfits and I embrace that label. We are a haven to those who choose not to conform to the roles they impose. The discipline and loyalty they demand.’
‘Are you saying they will demand we join a guild?’ Lastani shook her head. ‘We won’t be staying in the islands that long.’
‘All the more reason – influence beyond these shores is as attractive as the power you apparently wield. They will compete for your affections I have no doubt, offer you great things so long as you become one of them.’
‘And you stand apart from such games?’
‘I choose not to play the way they would like,’ Tanimbor clarified. ‘I have other goals. My concerns lie with magic itself and those who practise it.’
‘How very noble. I thank you for your offer.’
He bowed once more. If the man heard her edge of sarcasm he chose to ignore it. ‘I shall delay you no longer. Should you wish to speak to me again, you will find me in the shadow of the cliffs.’
He pointed as he spoke without looking, indicating somewhere beyond the humped coil of buildings that occupied the far side of the street. Sitain frowned for a moment before realising where he meant.
‘The island beneath the Etrel Cliffs? I thought that was a slum?’
‘So some prefer to think of it. The people are poor certainly, and our guildhouse is no grand palace, but it serves our needs. You would be welcome to visit and see for yourself, should you choose to do so.’
Lastani cast a look at Atieno, but the older man was impassive. ‘I thank you for your offer, Guildmaster.’
‘I hope you find what you are seeking, Mistress Ufre.’
With that he turned and left. Once Tanimbor had vanished from sight, Lastani faced her companions.
‘Does anyone else think we’ve walked into some sort of conflict?’
‘Perhaps,’ Atieno replied. ‘But some young fool says we’re the most powerful mages in the world. It may be we can spark a conflict by our mere presence.’
Sitain laughed. ‘Gods-in-shards, we really are proper members of the Cards now!’
‘It appears so.’ Atieno sniffed and eased his weight to one side, wincing at the result of standing still on his bad leg. ‘One thing is for sure, I do not like that man.’
‘Oh no, that bastard’s going to try and kill us before the week’s out.’
Lastani blinked. ‘I think that’s being a little dramatic, don’t you?’
‘Nope,’ Sitain said. ‘I’ve been hanging round with Lynx long enough to suspect it’s true in most circumstances – and Toil long enough to know my friends will probably start it.’
That brought Lastani up short. For a little while she didn’t speak, unable to argue on the basis of everything she’d seen of the Cards. ‘Let’s get our answers quickly then,’ the mage said at last. ‘The longer we stay in this city, the faster trouble will find us.’
‘Cheer up, old man, you should be happy right now.’
Anatin scowled at Toil. ‘Yeah, why?’
‘Tonight we get to test your life’s work,’ Toil said.
‘
What are you on about, woman?’ He shook his head and looked back towards the Siym Holding. They were watching the main gate now, counting guards and waiting to see what happened as it was closed up.
‘Don’t pretend, not to me. This job, tonight – it’s perfect for your crew. The life of a merc is hard and bloody. Anyone who’s seen a battlefield knows what a screaming pile of misery that is. Your deck of Cards ain’t an accident, too many expensive hires for that. Most merc crews are bigger and half-full of gun-fodder, but you’ve almost no dead weight – just proper soldiers and specialists. On top of that, the nationalities run far and wide, giving you local knowledge all over. With the recent additions, I bet this is the elite crew you’ve been planning a long while.’
Anatin was quiet for some time. ‘It’s close,’ he finally admitted. ‘Not like I’ve got a shopping list, mind, but we could cover most unusual jobs.’
It was late afternoon and the shadows were starting to lengthen. The heat of day was still enough to make them sweat, but the midday lull had passed and the city was getting about its business again.
‘So what does the man with the plan say?’
Anatin glanced over, a hint of amusement on his face. ‘Oh, you’ll be letting me plan this one?’
‘Scale’s bigger than I’m used to,’ Toil admitted. ‘Plus we don’t want sharp and quiet. It doesn’t have to be a bloodbath, but we want the whole city to see. Otherwise some bastard might think to move in as soon as we’re gone.’
Anatin smirked. ‘A subtle balance, that’s what you get when you hire the Cards.’
‘Better be, this time round.’
He nodded. ‘Three teams. Safir takes the lead with Snow and Tempest. You take Blood and Sun while Teshen has Stars. On the north wall there’s a watch-tower. Sitain puts them out then we rig a grenade to blow the wall. That’s the signal. Safir leads his suits in and uses Sitain to put the crews out in their beds. When you hear the grenade you take the main gate, have Atieno break its hinges. Secure the guardhouse and move on the palace. They’ll have mage-guns so you put them down hard.’