The following day, Lawrence was summoned by Keeman after lunch. As he left the room, it was impressive that the one who was most nervous was, in fact, Cole.
* * *
The Rowen Trading Guild, Gerube Branch Office, was a building representing the interests of its membership in Gerube, a vital trading hub linking the pagan and religious territories. Here met many thousands of merchants, as well as the managers who oversaw all of them. It would be impossible to outwit every one of them, but what Lawrence would do, under Keeman’s orders, was outwit other such guilds and the northern landowners.
If Eve didn’t betray him or the guild, all would be well. That was the conclusion of the previous night’s deliberations between Keeman and the other merchants, who had already finished laying the groundwork. What Lawrence was actually expected to do was not too difficult. He was to gain the trust of a lone wolf wildcard, Eve, and thus ensure that things went smoothly. That was it.
”You’re certain that you don’t have to take your companion with you?”
“I am.”
The office was busy, so he only had a few minutes to speak with Keeman before departing. Keeman was the manager of the branch office, and presently involved in negotiations, so he was wearing fine clothes with a starched collar.
Since the negotiations - between the northern landowners and southern merchants - were taking place across the river on the delta, leaving Holo and Cole behind at the inn might be viewed as sign that they were hostages. Perhaps that was why they asked if they should come along.
”So, you will tell Madam Boland what we discussed earlier. Things have become rather complex, so making decisions on your own will cause details to be overlooked and slip between the cracks.”
Keeman stared into his eyes, and Lawrence nodded to reassure him. Even if he saw the full picture, he probably couldn’t understand it all.. he couldn’t even win politically against Holo or Cole. Keeman couldn’t run along mountain trails for weeks at a time, subsisting on rainwater and crusty rye bread, anymore than Lawrence could do his job.
Lawrence would be safe if he followed Keeman’s advice. The only decision Lawrence could make on his own was a final one, when things had become focused enough for him to make a judgment. Keeman was eager to continue speaking, but a knock on his door ended their discussion. The delegates would be departing in a group, and it was time.
“Understood?”
Having received his orders, Lawrence left the room and passed the people who were now entering. It felt tense inside the building, as though a battle were imminent; especially at the canteen on the ground floor. But this side of the conflict felt the tension of anticipated victory, since the goddess of victory – the Narwhale - was on their side. They were likely discussing who would come out on top.
The word on the street was that the guild who had captured the northern boat that had caught the Narwhale, was likely to be that victor. Even the members of the Rowen Trade Guild were muttering that it would be difficult to gain the upper hand in the negotiations. Of course that didn’t mean they were giving up, and those merchants in the corner who were motioning as though rowing a boat or who were sleeping were likely the ones who had sided with the south the fastest.
Knights and mercenaries were too realistic to talk about things like shares of profits that were out of their reach. But merchants liked to count chickens before they hatched, and must have fiercely argued over the share of profits they had yet to make.. perhaps they were still arguing.
There were carriages waiting outside the guild-house for Director Jeeda and Keeman, and between them were spies dressed as beggars who were gathering information for their employers, who were merchants. Lawrence remembered what Eve had called this back in Lenos, the town of fur and lumber: a trade war. The fact that this atmosphere excited him wasn’t because he was facing a huge business deal. It was probably because he was born a male, and so found such things intrinsically appealing.
“Gentlemen!”
All chatter in the guild-house immediately ceased at this interruption. The center of attention became Director Jeeda; a tall, thin and balding old man. Keeman claimed he was an opportunist, but anyone in a position like his - of avoiding confusion - could be considered one. Unlike Keeman, who dressed as nobility, Jeeda wore loose-fitting clothes befitting an aged man. His deep blue eyes, as they surveyed his patrons, seemed able to peer a hundred years into the future.
“In the name of our patron Saint Lambardos, let our guild be victorious!”
“To victory!”
In response to their cheers, the director and his entourage left the guild-house. Not once did Keeman glance at Lawrence, instead speaking with many others right up until the moment he exited the guild and sat in his carriage. As he watched, Lawrence felt his hand instinctively rise to his chest. It was surprising indeed that he was part of a plan that could overturn the situation. Were Holo beside him, she might have laughed and said he was a merchant to the core. No, she definitely would have laughed, since he was laughing himself.
Crossing the river was no longer prohibited, so after the director’s entourage left so did many in positions similar to Lawrence – those relaying unofficial orders and those who were to stand by and watch. Lawrence mingled in the back of the crowd and they walked toward the river.
From what he could see of the people leaving the trade guilds and companies, the road took on a strange atmosphere. Business was of course being conducted as usual, and not everyone in town was a merchant. But the way countless merchants were heading north reminded him of the northern campaigns. Church bells rang, and the sound of marching resounded like a drum beat. Even those rowing boats who didn’t usually treat passengers as guests were being silent and obedient.
Many bystanders stood on the bank, with many soldiers watching over them with spears or axes. A weak-willed merchant, flung about in the boat and spat up onto the pier, would seem overwhelmed with his knees knocking. But nobody would laugh at him. Everyone moved in silence toward the delta.
Those unrelated to business stared as if watching something strange unfold. In ancient times, a fight over land was fought with swords and so was quite easy to understand. But these days such battles were decided with parchment and ink, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that onlookers would believe sorcery was afoot. Even Lawrence agreed with that estimation.
The fact was that money seemed to appear after talks of deals, similar to how a sorcerer might summon a demon with a magic circle. It was obvious why the Church was forceful with merchants who pushed relentlessly to make money. The business of merchants seemed like it was aided by mysterious demons.
No one was in the lead; the crowd simply moved as if flowing. They all made their way to the Stream of Gold, where the most expensive items on the delta were traded. On the tables there lay parchments detailing many expensive goods that were so expensive they couldn’t be traded for money.. and perhaps not even power, prestige or pride.
Those like Lawrence, merchant underlings, were stopped; blocked by others so that only those who were executive merchants or dressed well could pass. Similarly, those from the north arrived and were seated. On both sides if appeared as though the people were accustomed to issuing orders by gesturing with their chins, like some kind of meeting between wise men of yore.
But the side that was clearly dominating was the southerners. Their clothing, retainers, and how they carried themselves practically smelled of money and power. In comparison all the northerners had was their dignity, which they seemed to precariously maintain by shouting loudly.
The southerners were assigned to seats and Director Jeeda, the delegate for the Rowen Trade Guild, was three seats to the right of the best-dressed man in the center. It seemed arranged such that their shares in the profits were correlated with their seating positions. Of course the northerners wouldn’t know that, but Lawrence couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel to sat in front of those who were now selfishly planning to divvy up t
heir fortunes.
Still, if the deal proceeded as it did now, it wasn’t clear what profits the Rowen Trade Guild would receive. All Lawrence knew at this juncture was that Director Jeeda would earn all the accolades, and those under him would earn relatively little. If only the profits would be evenly shared instead.. He couldn’t help but laugh at thinking so naively, even if it was the way business was supposed to be conducted.
Finally, the northerners were all seated. Behind them were merchants who seemed to be their retainers, whispering into their ears. This seemed to be a last-ditch strategy session, but they were all still wearing serious expressions. But unexpectedly, on the northerners’ side, behind the best-dressed man in the middle was a person that Lawrence was familiar with.
Ted Reynolds, of D’Jean Company. He wore what must be official’s clothing in Gerube; a pointed hat like everyone around him. In other circumstances he might have been the mediator in Keemans’ plan to finish off the northerners.. it was quite a sobering thought.
If Keeman had chosen Reynolds, would Reynolds have then betrayed Lawrence? Lawrence had no answer, but as he watched Reynolds from afar he felt as if their eyes suddenly met. He was being watched by countless others, so it was unlikely he would have singled Lawrence out. Clearly this was a sign that Lawrence was growing nervous and self-conscious.
No, he certainly was nervous.. Eve wasn’t present. In Keeman’s estimation, she wouldn’t be there center-stage, and that seemed correct. Her job was to conduct deals under the table. Perhaps she was now being choked to death with passionate love letters from those desperately trying to outwit everyone else to capture the profit. Lawrence spun around on his heel and left the crowd.. he had to run and present her with flowers of his own.
Not long after that, what sounded like the declaration commencing the negotiations rang out behind him. A southern voice gave the declaration, making it obvious that the meeting was really just a ritual; a formality. But rituals were like prayers: acts to appeal to the gods. Lawrence grew fearful, tightening his collar at the prospect of what those at that table might now be praying for.
Chapter 8
The path to finding Eve was as open-ended as the path to the summit of a hill. But Lawrence suspected he would find her at the first inn they had stayed at, where Holo had become drunk and had that long discussion with him and Cole. The ground floor was empty, but the owner had no reason to be concerned – someone from the north had rented the entire inn. All the hotels on the delta would be booked like this today.
Lawrence handed the innkeeper a weathered coin with the profile of a certain financially-troubled king on it. In return the innkeeper set an empty beer glass down on the counter in front of Lawrence, and pointed him in the direction of the stairs.
“I appreciate you taking care of this for me.”
Clearly Lawrence was being instructed to take the glass with him upstairs, so he did so. There he saw a merchant speaking with someone on the far end of the hallway. Lawrence would have ignored him, if not for that useful merchant’s talent to never forget a face. The man had put on a false beard and stuffed his clothing to alter his figure, but he was clearly one of Eve’s lookouts. As Lawrence turned to face him again, he was met with a sharp gaze.
“How’s business?”
Lawrence overcame his initial hesitation and walked up to the man fearlessly. The stranger he was speaking with opened his mouth, and Lawrence realized that they were expecting some sort of secret pass-phrase. The reason for the empty beer glass became apparent; Lawrence turned that empty glass over and spoke.
“My business is so bad lately that I can’t even afford a beer.”
A smile appeared on the stranger’s face, and he pointed at the door behind him. All of the nails on his hands were misshapen – clearly he wasn’t someone meant for physical labor. Lawrence returned a warm smile and knocked on the door, pushing it open and entering when he heard a response.Upon stepping in he was struck by the smell of ink, and something else pungent enough to make him frown; an old man in one corner of the room was silently melting wax for stamps.
“Have you any idea how disappointing it is to see you here?”
Being physically and mentally tired were two different things. The exhaustion of reading was written plainly on Eve’s face, and both of her hands were busy keeping her head from falling into the stack of letters and books on the desk. Lawrence replied.
“Was it time for your nap?”
“Yes it was. People everywhere are talking in their sleep these days.”
There were stacks of papers and letters around his feet, and he couldn’t help but steal a glance at them. Two threat letters, three more preaching against the “alliance” of the north and south sides, three more invitations for Eve to work for others, and even one inviting her to flee the country. He picked up that last, and funniest, letter and set it in front of her.
“That one was from a time when I became the target of pirates while on a ship with several pilgrims wishing to cross the channel.”
Their conversation was off to a meaningless and innocent start, as she gracefully folding the letter.
“Those pilgrims did of course pray as they cowered, but after several sailors were killed what do you think happened?”
“I’ve no idea.”
Hearing his reply, Eve happily continued.
“They started to take off their clothes and.. well, you know. It was then that I realized just how ’incredible’ and ’tough’ humans really are.”
A poet had indeed once said that the looming threat of death was the most potent aphrodisiac known to man. But her statement begged a question.
“And what was Ms. Eve doing in the meantime?”
She gently tossed the letter onto the hearth.
“I was busy sifting through their luggage to try and find the money I would need to buy my life back.”
Her dry lips remained still.. only her eyes were smiling. Lawrence shrugged and finally handed her the letter he had been asked to deliver.
“It was requested of me to give you this.”
“How unnecessary.”
Hearing her answer, the old man stirring the molten wax looked up at them. But when she flicked her finger, he averted his gaze back to the wax. Either he was deaf, or they were making Lawrence think so, to fool him into a false sense of security.
“All I need to know is who’s side you’re on. That’s all.”
“Or, more accurately, if I’ll do what you say in the end, right?”
Her eyes-only smile reappeared, but she didn’t reply. Instead she reached her hand out to his, received the letter, and opened it as though it were just another typical letter.
“Hmm, it’s rather eerie when its this close to expectations. It’s as if someone revealed our entire secret meeting in detail.”
“Surely you jest.”
Seeing him reply with his most sincere business smile, Eve, looking bored, casually set the letter down on the desk.
“So, he is ready to negotiate..”
At least it seemed that she would spend more time on his letter than the others.
“What do you think?”
She closed her eyes while asking. It was too early for bargaining.
“Well, since Madam Eve has received my delivery, my job is half-over.”
“The landowners trade the delta for the Narwhale, I share some profit with those who betrayed the northerners and your party gets the rest.
“A conclusion that should leave everyone satisfied.”
Eve sighed at his response and rubbed the corners of her eyes.
“It’s impossible to see the hearts of others. It’s quite a pity.”
Those who trusted that the trade would be a smooth one, and placed their faith in their opponents, must have never been betrayed before. No one should be able to trust things would go smoothly if they themselves were cheating.
“Do you know who Keeman is connected to?”
She wasn’t t
esting Lawrence, it was an honest question.
“I’ve no clue.”
“Realistically, is it possible to secretly steal the Narwhale?”
“You’d have to threaten or bribe the soldiers who are on watch.”
“But the contract for the exchange will be signed by the landowner’s son, and he has no actual rights to the land. It might prove entirely worthless. What will Keeman do about that?”
“The third generation has already spoken with the landowners. They’re all adults. The power of attorney is shared by the council, Church and landowners.. so once they find somewhere they can all voice their opinions, everything should be fine. Or so he says.”
“I see. And you believe what he says?”
Eve looked down her nose at Lawrence, like a noble snubbing someone of lower status. She spoke as if she was sure Keeman had laid a trap.
“I don’t believe his words, but I do obey his orders.”
She turned away.
“A flawless answer. But still not enough to bridge the gulf between us.”
Was she implying that she couldn’t accept Keeman’s compromise? Lawrence had no trust in Keeman, but didn’t think it was such a bad deal for Eve.
“What’s the best choice for you?”
“I already told you. Everybody betrays each other, and I get to take all the profits.”
“How can you-”
Lawrence nervously shut his mouth to keep from saying the rest. She smiled as though encouraging him to continue.
“Why would you stick to such a childish perspective?”
This was the sort of deal which, if offered to Keeman, would be accepted immediately; he would be delighted. Why was she being so stubbornly unwilling to trust him? It was strange to Lawrence no matter how he looked at it. If she felt he couldn’t be trusted, she would have rejected him immediately. Maybe she just wanted all of the profits? That level of childishness was like a bad joke.
Spice & Wolf IX (DWT) Page 8