by James Evans
“No, my lady.”
“You have heard of Abaythian Marrinek?” said Rincon.
“Yes, sir. The Traitor. In prison.”
“No, Krant, not in prison. Not anymore. He has escaped,” said Lady Camille leaning forward, “and this information must go no further. If you mention it outside this room, if you even hint that it might be true or lend credence to a rumour, I’ll have your tongue. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lady, perfectly.”
Krant swallowed, his face grey. Rincon couldn’t tell if it was the news about Marrinek or fear of Lady Camille that had most affected him.
“Very well.”
She settled back in her chair and glanced at Rincon before fixing her gaze on Krant.
“Let’s make a start. First, a letter to Duke Rhenveldt of Vensille.”
She steepled her fingers and laid her head against the chair’s backrest so that she was looking up at the ceiling, then dictated a letter to the Duke that set out the position in broad terms.
“We very much wish to recover the traitor Marrinek and I trust that you will lend whatever aid you feel is appropriate should he be found within your borders. Signed Lady Camille etc. etc.”
Krant completed the letter, sprinkled sand on the parchment to dry the ink then passed it across the Lady Camille. She scanned it quickly.
“You have a neat hand. A tidy hand speaks of a well-ordered mind, I think, and that may well be useful. Tell me, what do you know of Vensille and its dukedom?”
Krant seemed rather surprised to have been asked.
“Er, well, my lady, it is, er, the er, major city of the south coast and the first of the independent city-states that you would reach if you travelled west beyond our borders. The er, major exports are manufactured goods, wine and foodstuffs from the surrounding plains but the true wealth of the city comes from the tax levied on the trade passing northward through the city and along the river or southward to the Tardean Sea.”
He paused, waiting to see if more was expected.
“The Duke has fortified the city to deter what he perceives to be Imperial aggression, expending vast sums of money on the walls and other defences. The population is largely supportive of their Duke, seeing in him a person capable of defending both their freedoms and their way of life. The streets, although less well-ordered than those of an Imperial city, are generally safe and relatively clean.”
He paused again then said, “Should I go on, my lady? I have read extensively on the subject so if there was a particular item about which you were curious…” He stopped, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves.
Rincon cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Krant. I would not have seen you as a student of either economics or politics. Looks can be deceiving, I suppose.”
Lady Camille was clearly reaching a decision.
“Yes. Yes, I think you’ll do. Good. Well, let’s get on. We have more letters to write, Mr Krant.”
Krant nodded and turned back to his desk, shuffling papers and preparing to take dictation. Lady Camille looked at Rincon.
“And you need to complete the preparations we discussed earlier,” she said, nodding meaningfully at Krant’s back, “tomorrow, mid-morning at the latest I think.”
“Yes, my lady, that should work nicely. I will make the arrangements.”
“So. First, we need to call the Council to attend me tomorrow morning.”
She dictated a brief note.
“Four copies, to be sent to the Council members as soon as we’ve finished here tonight.”
She dictated another note to be sent to the High Council in Khemucasterill, the capital, then one for the Emperor himself.
“Find a courier to leave first thing in the morning to take this message to the Emperor. This is a sealed tube to be delivered directly to the hand of the Emperor, wherever he may be.” She reached out to pass the tube to Krant but held it as he took the other end.
“Don’t let me down, Krant,” she said, looking into his eyes, “you have heard the stories, I suppose? About what happens to people who let me down?”
He had heard the stories, of course, everyone had, but he had never really believed them, dismissing them as old wives’ tales or make-believe, the kind of things you told your children if you wanted them to behave properly and grow up in fear of a bogeyman. Till now, while he was just taking dictation, he still hadn’t believed them. Now, under the direct gaze of the Emperor’s most trusted servant, the Governor of the Western Province, the stories suddenly seemed far less amusing. He nodded dumbly.
“Good,” she said coldly, “that saves me explaining what happens if you don’t do what I want or if you fail me in some small way.”
She released the message tube and sat back in her seat. Krant placed the tube on his desk next to the other notes and letters and took up his pen.
“What is your full name, Mr Krant?”
“Ezbedah Krant, my lady”
“Ezbedah. Unusual name. Another note, I think. ‘I, Lady Camille Nydaekon, Governor of the Western Province, do hereby request and require that you should allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance and to afford the bearer such assistance and protection as may be necessary.’ Pass that over.”
She took out her charmed wax holder as Krant sprinkled the note with sand. After scanning it quickly, she dripped green sealing wax onto the bottom of the page and pressed her ring into it before signing her name above the seal and handing the note back to Krant.
“That’s everything I think, Master Krant. Find a message tube for that and keep it safe. Rincon will make the rest of the arrangements.”
“My lady? What arrangements?” Krant looked confused.
But Lady Camille was already thinking about the next question and didn’t answer him directly.
“Let’s send Master Krant home for the moment, Rincon, he’ll need his sleep.”
Rincon nodded.
“That will be all, Krant. We won’t need you again this evening. Report to my office once you have breakfasted tomorrow morning. Goodnight.”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir. Goodnight, my lady.”
Krant, still looking confused but unwilling to push his luck by asking further questions, made his escape before something even more unexpected happened. Once the door had closed behind him Lady Camille said, “He’ll do nicely. Just smart enough, I think.”
“Yes,” said Rincon, “although maybe not smart enough to deal with Duke Rhenveldt. I have heard that he can be particularly persuasive and Master Krant, while tolerably clever, is neither wise nor experienced enough to handle him.”
“Well, that at least is a risk we might be able to mitigate by providing the right companion. They might even stumble across the Traitor, although that’s probably too much to hope for. Who do we have who could accompany Mr Krant?”
Rincon gave her a mirthless smile.
“Mr Gavelis is, I think, between engagements after returning from the northern borders with a most satisfactory outcome. I believe he might be prevailed upon to play the part of a personal servant and that Master Krant, appointed to be your personal representative, could be tasked with delivering a message to the Duke. The presence of Mr Gavelis would lend gravitas to the young Master Krant and, together, they might gain useful access to the Duke’s court.” He paused while Lady Camille thought about this. The court of Vensille was a place where secrets were easily uncovered but within which Lady Camille had not yet succeeded in placing or turning agents. The chance to insert Mr Gavelis into the court, however slim and even within the context of the wider disaster, was not one she was keen to miss. “And, as you say, they might even unearth the Traitor,” said Rincon, which seemed to clinch the matter.
“Excellent. The capture or termination of Marrinek, will of course be most desirable, but the opportunity to put one of the Emperor’s specialists at the centre of Vensille presents a wealth of further possibilities. I shall ponder them overnight and confirm my wishes t
omorrow morning before you brief Krant.”
“Very good, my lady. I will speak to Mr Gavelis and brief him on the wider situation.”
Lady Camille grimaced slightly but Rincon was right. Briefing Mr Gavelis, now that she knew he was in the city, was necessary even if he wasn’t directly engaged in the matter.
Rincon stood up and bowed.
“Good night, my lady.”
“Bright and early tomorrow, Rincon, bright and early.” The door closed behind him and she was alone again with her worries.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MARRINEK FOUND FLOOST and Darek sitting side by side on a small settee in the sitting room across the hall from Madame Duval’s study. Darek was sporting an ugly black eye but other than that they appeared to be unharmed. They looked up when he came in but didn’t seem overjoyed to see him. Neither of them said anything as he sat down in the chair next to them and leant his head back against the wall.
“I told you I would look after you while you were my apprentices and I meant it. Gander will not bother you again. Madame Duval and I have reached an arrangement; Hitton will compensate her for Gander’s fraud but you are still my apprentices and so you’re coming with me. Are you alright?”
They stared at him for a long minute, then Darek said, “What about Pratek and the rest of the North End gang? Are they going to bother us? Maybe we’d be better off without all of you, we’ve coped so far.” Floost said nothing, she just watched Marrinek with big, suspicious eyes.
“Leave if you want to. I’ll release you and you can find your own way in the world, but the training I offer is not something you will find elsewhere. I promise, in two months you will know enough to be able to deal with the likes of those thugs from the alley. In two years, if you work hard, you’ll be amongst the most dangerous people in the city, if that’s what you want to be. By the end of your apprenticeship, assuming we all live that long, you can go your own ways and make a good living amongst the noble families of the Empire or the city states or anywhere else you choose.”
Floost and Darek looked at him dubiously.
“Why should we trust you?” said Floost, “How do we know you didn’t sell us to Gander?”
Marrinek sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Gander is dead. He worked for a man called Hitton and he’s someone I still need to talk to. After that I may have to deal with a few more of the North End gang but I don’t think they will be a real problem.”
Marrinek stopped and looked at their shocked faces.
“What? Did you think I would let someone kidnap my apprentices and sell them into the flesh trade? That there would be no consequences? Gander and Pratek were boasting about it in the Snarling Goat, boasting to my face when I confronted them. I don’t think they knew what they had done.”
Floost and Darek shared a glance
“You really will teach us?” said Floost.
“Yes. Now listen. Trust and loyalty work in two directions. I’ve given you food and money for clothes and promised to teach and protect you. I have secured your release from Madame Duval and provided board and lodging. But now we need to go. I have things to do and that includes beginning your education. This will only work if you trust me and follow my instructions.”
Marrinek stood up and walked to the door.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Floost and Darek glanced at each other again. It wasn’t that they trusted Marrinek, not really, but what choice did they have? They followed him out onto the street and hurried after him as he strode through the crowds, heading for the Jewel.
“Did you get everything I asked you to buy this morning?” asked Marrinek, stopping outside a charm supplies shop.
“Most of it. We got bags and some clothes and shoes,” said Darek, holding up his new bag as evidence.
“And I got a cloak,” said Floost, “but we didn’t find one for Darek.”
“We didn’t get the iron either,” said Darek.
“Right, in here,” said Marrinek. He held open the door and followed them into the shop. A counter ran lengthways through the small room and the three of them stood, slightly cramped, facing a wall lined with drawers and cupboards of various shapes and sizes. The room was lit by the sunlight coming in through the small windows at the front of the shop and by charmed lamps on the walls, which gave off a soft yellow light similar to a candle but brighter and more constant. The shop was cool after the warmth of the street but Marrinek couldn’t see quite why that might be so. On a stool at the far end of the store sat the owner, who looked up as they came in and smiled.
“Good afternoon sir, young master, mistress. Welcome to my humble shop. My name is Eaves. How may I be of assistance?”
“Good afternoon, Mr Eaves,” said Marrinek, “I’m Bay and these are my apprentices. Very new apprentices.” He frowned at Darek, who was leaning his elbows on the counter, and raised an eyebrow until Darek noticed and stood upright.
“That’s better. We do not lounge, Darek; stand up straight, pay attention and wait quietly.”
Marrinek turned back to the shopkeeper.
“I need basic supplies. A pound of lead and two rods of wrought iron. A reel of copper wire. Eight short ash or oak staves.” The shopkeeper bustled around as Marrinek listed his requirements.
“What does that come to so far?”
“Let me see, let me see. The staves are a penny for four, the iron tuppence for two, the copper wire is four pence so with the lead a shilling and a half, sir.”
“Do you have tungsten or iridium?”
Mr Eaves paused and Marrinek could see him calculating the potential value of his newest customer.
“I have a little tungsten sir, a very little, but even the amounts I have will be in excess of forty shillings.”
Darek’s mouth dropped open and he started to say something until Marrinek glared at him.
“Those are expensive items, young master, very rare and very expensive. Forty shillings is a fair price. The iridium is even more.”
“Well, even at half that price my funds would not currently stretch so far.”
Marrinek looked back at the shopkeeper who was now eyeing him warily. He laughed.
“Fear not, my friend, I can cover these few items.”
He pulled coins from his purse and laid them on the counter.
“I will want iridium, though, as soon as I have secured funds, and possibly tungsten as well. How much would you be able to supply?”
The shopkeeper tilted his head to one side, thinking, evidently not convinced that Marrinek was an entirely trustworthy client.
“I don’t keep iridium in stock, sir, since there is so little demand, but I have a supplier who visits every week or so and can supply maybe an ounce or two. Tungsten is easier, I can get maybe four or five ounces within a fortnight. But I would need payment in advance.”
Marrinek nodded.
“Those quantities would be useful. Tell me, if I visited any of your competitors, would I be likely to find stock of either of these metals?”
“In all honesty no, sir. Mostly we cater for the everyday requirements of the small number of crafters creating household items or modest tools. I’m not even sure that the Duke’s own household would have these metals in stock, such is the cost. And when someone such as yourself has a need for these materials all of my competitors in the Guild of Artificers,” he nodded at the coat of arms over the door, “are likely to obtain their supplies from the same source. I’m sorry, sir, these things just can’t readily be found in Vensille.”
“Very well,” said Marrinek, “I will return once I have refilled my purse. In the meantime, the only other things I need, if you have them, are a copy of Jensen and one of Sturge’s Discussions. Do you have them?”
“Yes, sir, although they are not new copies and they may have been annotated by previous students. Four shillings each, I’m afraid.”
Marrinek weighed his purse.
“Hmm. Six shilling
s only, I think, and a promise that I’ll return to patronise your store again at a future date.”
“Thank you sir, and while I look forward to your future custom I’m afraid your promises are of small value to my landlord. Seven shillings for the two, that’s the best I can do.”
Marrinek sighed and emptied his purse on the counter. He flicked through the coins, counting.
“Looks like six and ten is the best I can do, I’m afraid.”
“Very well, sir, since I can see that this is important to you, I will take six and ten.” The shopkeeper scooped the coins quickly into his own purse and produced the books from a locked cupboard under the counter.
“Yes, well, this copy of Discussions is almost as old as I am,” said Marrinek, leafing through the faded pages, “but I suppose the contents aren’t likely to have changed over the years.” He smiled at the shopkeeper.
“Thank you for your assistance and until the next time we meet, good day.”
He waved at Floost.
“Pick-up our things.” He gave a short bow, picked up his staff and stepped out onto the street. Floost and Darek followed, stuffing items into their bags as they went.
“Follow me,” said Marrinek, leading the way back to the Jewel. When they reached the inn, they entered through the side door and climbed the stairs to their new suite. Marrinek opened the door and strode across the compact living area to one of the other two doors, peering into the room beyond.
“This will be my room. You two will share the room through that door. Set out the items we have just bought on the table and dump your clothes in your room.”
He closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed. It was roughly made and the mattress was stuffed with straw but the room was clean and dry and perfectly acceptable for a few days. He pulled off his boots and massaged his feet, then rinsed his hands and washed his face in the bowl under the window. He stood for a moment, looking through the small panes at the street below, then he rolled his head around his neck and splashed more water on his face.
In their own tiny room Floost and Darek were arranging their new possessions. Floost hung her cloak on a hook on the back of the door and then re-packed her other clothes in her pack. Darek was also re-packing, remembering the times they had been moved on by the watch or stable owners or innkeepers, leaving quickly and carrying all they possessed.