The Dragon's Banker

by Scott Warren

  The captain’s accommodations were quite generous. Despite the low ceiling, it was at least as wide as the main office of my bank. Like the office, a wide table took up the middle of the room, and I even recognized some of the nautical charts, of which I possessed similar copies. Several tapestries adorned cherrywood walls, and the banners of several naval commands hung from a line over the table. I recognized very few of them but surmised that they represented the captain’s prior postings. And much to my amusement, I spied one of Jassem’s charcoal renderings framed on the back bulkhead.

  The captain herself sat at one corner of the massive table, a cup of tea in her hand. At a right angle to her, pouring a cup for himself, was Darrez Issa.

  That was a very bad sign.

  A small blessing was granted when he turned around to follow the captain’s gaze and was startled to see me as well before quickly mastering his expression. I acknowledged both him and the captain with a tug of my forelock and introduced my companion.

  “Captain, My Lord Issa, allow me to present Jassem Bol: captain of Ur’s Gift.”

  Jassem offered a bow with a flourish as grand as any court youth. The room was silent save for the creaking of wood and the wash of the surf through the open window. Finally, the captain of the Queen’s Grace burst into laughter, shaking so hard with it that tea spilled onto her white saucer. I said nothing, but I could see the tips of Jassem’s long ears turning red at her outburst. Darrez Issa seemed to share his embarrassment, and ignoring the captain, he instead proffered the teapot.

  “I believe you take it with two sugars, Master Kelstern, yes?” he asked without a trace of humor.

  “Yes,” I said. That he knew such an intimate detail worried me. That he considered it important enough to keep for later use was even more troubling.

  He turned to Jassem. “And for you, Captain?” he asked. There was no trace of sarcasm or irony in his voice, and his question silenced his tablemate.

  “Pure and bitter as the south wind,” said the elf.

  “Captain Yasmin, if you would be so kind as to call down to the galley for more sugar,” said Darrez Issa, pouring two additional cups.

  The captain of the Queen’s Grace was one of the most powerful figures in the Borrean Navy, and even she was supplicant to the Master of the Royal Mint. She cast us a glare as she passed. Though if Darrez Issa was here, then the Queen’s Grace was here because of him, and it was my bad luck that we had crossed paths again.

  Darrez looked at me and crossed his legs. “I was under the impression you did not sail,” he said, holding out the two teacups.

  I accepted them and passed one to Jassem. “I didn’t,” I said. “This is my first time.”

  “How are you finding it?” he asked.

  “Invigorating,” I replied. I was surprised to learn that it was true, though I wouldn’t want to make a career of this sort of thing.

  “Indeed. And through Andil’s Hammer, no less. At last we learn the nature of your strange new shipping company.”

  I glanced at Jassem. “His company,” I said. Darrez Issa quirked an eyebrow at my correction. “I’m just a minority stakeholder.”

  “And financier, I imagine. Or is this another claw of the Dragon’s Daughter?”

  I shook my head. “This is a Kelstern interest.”

  Darrez Issa leaned back in his chair. “And a response, I imagine, to the pressure levied against you by certain figures on the waterfront. Still, I have a duty to police these waters. You may be unaware, but as soon as we spotted your ship, you turned and made for the entrance to the Hammer. Captain Yasmin took you for smugglers driven to extremes, and we both expected to see only small pieces of your vessel emerge. Yet here you stand. How intriguing it is that I find you crossing my path so often of late.”

  Jassem cleared his throat, and Issa turned to him. “We are no smugglers. Ur’s Gift is no ship for nighttime skulking. Soon, I’ll best the Kraken’s Teeth, and everyone will know my designs are second to none.”

  I winced. There was no elegant way to tell the elf to stay silent. Every bit of information he gave Darrez would be marked and catalogued in that steel-trap brain of his. And what he might do with it was anyone’s guess.

  The Master of the Royal Mint’s eyes widened behind his spectacles. “Indeed?” he asked, and Jassem nodded and held out his empty cup for seconds. I felt helpless as Issa poured him a second cup, but Captain Yasmin returned with the marine sergeant and a small sack of sand from the hold of Ur’s gift. And some sugar, which I had forgotten to wait on before drinking my tea.

  “Excuse us a moment,” said Issa. The marine sergeant escorted us outside.

  Our chaperone didn’t seem overly concerned with us, but I could see Jassem’s ear twitch toward the door as his eyes narrowed.

  “What are they saying?” I asked.

  He scowled. “She’s saying there’s only sand in the hold, but it’s only half-full. She thinks I might have thrown contraband overboard in the Hammer. She wants to impound my ship. She says the design’s odd, and so is the way it sits in the water. It may have military application if it can navigate Andil’s Hammer, so she wants to study it. Chains, Sailor! They’re going to take my ship!”

  I shook my head. “Our ship. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

  We were called back in.

  Darrez Issa sat in much the same position. “We are here attempting to root out smugglers, and the captain’s professional opinion is that we have found some.”

  “No!” said Jassem, but he stilled when I put a hand on his shoulder and slid my satchel around.

  “With your permission,” I said, withdrawing the ship’s documentation. The captain stepped closer, and I handed her a series of paperwork. “That is the article of incorporation for the shipping company, my note of loan to Jassem Bol, the legal deed to the ship, and the declared date of sea trials, which is notarized for today. Ur’s Gift may be a fast ship, but we could hardly have made it beyond the bay to pick up contraband in only a day.”

  Darrez Issa accepted the parcel and thumbed through the fine vellum sheets. “It certainly looks to be in order, Master Kelstern. What about the captain’s license?”

  Jassem Bol looked at me blankly. I smiled at him and reached back into my satchel.

  “I have it here—his official letter of employment to Bol’s Shipwright and his legal authorization to captain a vessel on that company’s behalf.”

  “I have a license?” asked Jassem.

  “Indeed you do,” I said, handing the documentation to him to present. He didn’t pass it over right away, his eyes instead fixed on the neat lettering that declared him the legal entity in charge of Ur’s Gift before the Queen of Borreos. Before that, he may as well have not existed to the realm. Now, thanks to a piece of paper, he enjoyed the protection of its laws.

  The Master of the Royal Mint watched this exchange with some interest over the tops of the other documents. I couldn’t see it, but the corners of the deep-set eyes behind his round spectacles suggested there might be some semblance of a smile hiding there. I wasn’t quite willing to take the chance that the Master of the Royal Mint was on my side any more than any of Alkazarian’s children. But I had a hunch that whatever I was doing was at least offering him some amusement—if only at the vexation of Captain Yasmin.

  Jassem reluctantly tried to hand over his own papers, but Darrez Issa waved them off. “I’ve seen enough to trust your attention to detail. Master Kelstern, Captain Bol, you may return to your ship.”

  I prayed that my sigh of relief was inaudible as I collected the ship’s documents and we turned to exit the stateroom. As I was about to pass the threshold, Issa’s voice halted me in my tracks and raised the little hairs on the back of my neck.

  “Master Kelstern.”

  I looked over my shoulder, hand still on the latch of the stateroom door.

  “I presume you intend to field more of these vessels?”

  “I’ve considered it,” I said. In t
ruth, it had been more than just considered. I’d actually already earmarked the funds and ordered the required timber, iron nails, pitch, and other assorted tools and materials for the next three vessels.

  “It occurs to me that such a thing might adjust the balance in the sea-trade power of Borreos. Not tip it completely, mind you, but enough to force a reaction from powerful actors.”

  “It might,” I conceded.

  “Such a thing might have far-reaching consequences. Should you continue along this path, do keep your eye out for any unusual activity.”

  I did not offer a response, and he did not seem to require one. Captain Yasmin resumed her seat and her conversation with Darrez Issa. The marine sergeant escorted us back to the small boat, and we watched the Queen’s Grace sail away from the deck of Ur’s Gift.

  While the sailors aboard the Queen’s Grace were aware of our ship’s existence, keeping her berth a secret was still paramount. So it wasn’t until well after the sun’s setting that we navigated a slightly damaged Ur’s Gift back into the grotto beneath Jassem’s studio. By the time I collapsed into my bed, I was so exhausted that I didn’t even have to count gold dinar to fall asleep. Soon they would be adding up, and with a monopoly on trade through the Kraken’s Teeth, we could set any price we wanted for the goods and information we carried.

  I had a feeling Lady Arkelai would be pleased.

  Chapter 23 – The Living Fire

  Wake up, Sailor.”

  A tall shadow stood over me. Tiny purple pinpricks glowed where the shadow’s eyes should have been, and twin plumes of smoke coiled around its horns to the array of red stalactites that had somehow replaced my bedchamber rafters. Black wings began to spread from the shadow’s back, stretching further and further until the entire world was engulfed.

  I woke up.

  Instead of a tall shadow, Lady Arkelai stood over me. And instead of a cavern of red stalactites, I could see the summer constellations of southern Varshon. Which was still wrong, since I should have been looking at the rafters of my chambers. But it only took me a few instants to reconcile the difference. I had once again been transported to Bastayne, the King’s Sword. I did not know Arkelai’s method of travel, but I knew well enough the results to refrain from asking her the obvious questions.

  “Get up,” said Arkelai.

  I climbed to my feet, noticing that I was still in my smallclothes and slippers. This late in summer, even the mountains held the heat of the day, and so it was not a frigid wind that chilled me so. Lady Arkelai’s tone caused the effect.

  She was not angry, I thought. At least not with me. But neither was she pleased. Being called back to Alkazarian’s lair was not supposed to happen until nearer the autumn season. I’d hoped to have more to show for my efforts. As it stood, until we had the extra caravans running and the ships coming off the line every few weeks, I was running Dragon’s Daughter at a slight loss.

  Even in slippers, the trek down the Jaws of the Mountain seemed to take less time and leave me less winded than the previous incursion. I credited this to the walking I had done across the badlands and continued upon my return to the city. I took advantage of my enhanced wind to query Arkelai.

  “Lady, can I at least ask what this summons is about?”

  Arkelai’s pace didn’t lessen, though I know she’d heard me. Her answer was a few minutes in coming. “You endangered what is most precious to him.”

  A lump began to rise in my throat. “I swear, I had no idea she was aboard.”

  Arkelai stopped and cast a glance over her jacket’s tapered shoulder at me. “What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?” I returned.

  “The platinum,” she hissed. And it was a hiss; it rode her words like the threat of a viper when you stepped too close to its nest. “You lost an entire bar of it!”

  Oh. That I had. But how did she find out about it? The only ones who knew were myself, my secretary, and the band of rogues who had absconded with my jacket.

  Lady Arkelai continued. “What’s worse, you made no attempt to contact me. I had to find out from my father. And he… you should not have done something so careless.”

  Being caught in a state of undress can have a tangible detriment on one’s preparedness to treat with a fire-breathing dragon. In that moment, as we reached the antechamber of Alkazarian’s lair, I very much wished I had been given an opportunity to dress and shave before visiting the dragon lord. Perhaps it seems a silly thing, but most men are more comfortable in their professional attire than they are in their own skin. Besides, if I was to be roasted alive, I wanted to be well-dressed for the funeral.

  I was much more alert on this visit and so noticed the branching paths in the antechamber that I had missed before, as well as the subtle tooling of masonry. Not all of these cavern offshoots were natural, and there were shapes moving in the unnatural shadows near the edges of the room. Alkazarian’s other children? Goblin servants? Perhaps other monsters lurked in these depths, but they were not my primary concern.

  Without hesitation, Arkelai ushered me around the bend to Alkazarian’s lair, and my eyes adjusted to the strange light while I scanned the pool of gold for telltale ripples. I was confused when there were none, and the lake even looked like a single, solid, diminished piece from this distance. I was so intent on examining it that I did not notice a figure at the enormous table.

  “You are late, Arkelai,” said the figure. At his observation, the dragon’s daughter dropped to a knee in supplication, and I joined her, though I let my eyes wander upward. Alkazarian had downsized himself. Whether by sorcery or some innate trick of his species, he had shrunk down to merely a tenth his original size and now sported a bone structure somewhere in between that of a dragon and a man. Again, I was reminded how different his kind was from the grenndrakes of the Gaeldoc Peninsula to the northeast. The iron chair at the head of the table glowed red-hot where Alkazarian’s forearms rested on it, and his wings were wrapped about him like a cloak. His mane of horns had softened and now resembled the appearance of pale blonde hair and a beard. The massive golden goblet I had noticed on my last visit rested in his right hand.

  “I’m sorry, father,” said Arkelai. “I had difficulty locating Master Kelstern.”

  Alkazarian drained his goblet and hurled the empty vessel into a pile of gold coins near Arkelai that exploded into a shower of wealth. Arkelai flinched beside me.

  “I did not summon you here to make excuses.” Alkazarian slumped back into his throne with a low growl. “I put the banker in your care, and what has he done but squander my gold in iron and beasts and boats and surrender my platinum to his own servants?”

  “He was betrayed, father.”

  “Forgive me,” I interjected. “The platinum was a loss to be sure, but not one so insurmountable. We still have Spardeep, and we can still acquire Harborlight. You have a strong presence in Borreos, and it will grow.”

  Alkazarian stood. Stepping down from his throne, he was still at least half-again as tall as me, and where his clawed feet landed, the intermixed gold and silver melted and flowed like water. He was, as Arkelai had said, the living fire—the hottest flame of the mountain.

  “This wealth, as you say, exists only in the words and promises of men like you. Men who rise and are cut down like stalks of wheat. What should happen if these men were to vanish?”

  “We don’t just vanish, Lord Alkazarian. Those men will be succeeded by children, and grandchildren. The wealthiest in Borreos were born to wealth and built further upon the labors of their mothers and fathers. As long as humanity persists, those promises hold trust. Your wealth in Borreos is as real as the gold you used to buy it, and it will continue to expand.”

  Alkazarian spread his wings. Underneath was the form of a man as seen only in the statues of the most skilled sculptors of our age. Hard, flat muscles stretched across his chest, and fine red and white scales crossed his belly. Below that… I looked away, heat rising readily in my
cheeks that had little to do with the temperature in the dragon’s lair. When I say he had the form of a man, I include all that that suggests.

  If he noticed my reaction, the dragon did not care. He unlimbered, stretching as I had seen him do before, and came down toward us. I could feel the heat radiate from his skin even at ten paces away. That beating heart of the mountain was somehow even more terrifying in this body than in his true form. Perhaps it was because he had enough of a human body to suggest he could walk among us. Six Hells, maybe it was just the fact that he could fit through the door now. I also had to entertain the possibility that my eyes weren’t seeing what was really in front of me. After all, Lady Arkelai had said that I saw what she wished me to see.

  But she’d also said that there was no illusion or glamour that could hide Alkazarian’s true form, and so I had to believe that the dragon was capable of changing his body to suit his desires. What purpose he had with a form like that, I couldn’t say. But the mystery of his daughter’s conception was perhaps less of an enigma now.

  “As a farmer sows his fields in spring, so too do I plant my wealth in humans to foster,” said Alkazarian. That was almost word for word the analogy I had used in that nameless badlands village. I nodded as Alkazarian continued. “I will let this harvest grow. Provided you do not continue to fumble my riches.”

  “It would be easier,” I said, “if your son wasn’t working against us.”

  Arkelai froze beside me, her eyes widening. Alkazarian ceased his pacing, those snake-slit eyes turning toward me. I will admit that I should have picked up on both these cues, but I have never been particularly apt at reading an audience.

  I continued. “Jazalkorin has sabotaged our efforts once that I know of. Is there any way you could—”