The Werewolf and the Wormlord coaaod-8
Page 28
‘You have legends, doubtless,’ said Alfric.
‘Legends, yes,’ said Cod. ‘And truths to go with them. We know the Door to stand in the Rock of Rocks, the Keeper of Secrets. We know it to be a grey screen through which an ork can step to be Elsewhere.’
‘I know nothing of this Door,’ said Alfric. ‘But suppose such a thing to exist. Certain things follow. First, the Bank would never acknowledge its existence, for it would be a secret too great for the world to be trusted with. Second, the Bank would never allow its use by orks.’
‘And why not?’ said Morgenstem.
‘Because, um-’
‘Prejudice,’ said Morgenstem heavily. ‘That’s what you’re talking about. We’re orks, so they hate us. If only because we make them remember. That’s all. You’d like to wage genocide on the lot of us. Then you could forget the crimes of your ancestors. You could forget we ever existed.’
‘I don’t know that that’s entirely fair,’ said Alfric. ‘But the truth is that your Door doesn’t exist, and if it did you wouldn’t have access to it, nor would your bank,’
‘But,’ said Cod, ‘what if our bank was run by one who already shared the secret of the Door?’
Alfric frowned.
The ork was hinting at At…?
Grief!
But Alfric was cautious.
Maybe Cod wasn’t actually offering him anything. And there was no guarantee that any offer made by the orks would be made in good faith. Best that Alfric be cautious; for it was quite possible that the orks’ sole purpose was to spy out the secrets of the Bank.
‘I think,’ said Cod, ‘that you think I’m trying to trick you into telling of something you’d rather not talk about.’
‘He doesn’t trust us,’ said Morgenstem gloomily.
‘But maybe he could learn to trust us,’ said Cod. ‘If we brought him money enough, I mean. Five pack-trains of gold to establish his bank. A formal treaty with the king of the Qinjoks. Does the idea appeal, Alfric my friend?’
‘You tell an interesting story,’ said Alfric.
‘It’s not just a story,’ said Morgenstem. ‘What we’re getting at — and I must say you seem awfully slow on the uptake — is that we want you to run our bank. You’re the perfect candidate.’
‘So you tell me,’ said Alfric. ‘But that’s only your opinion. Your king may think otherwise.’
‘Oh no,’ said Cod. ‘We had a long talk about that before we left the Qinjoks. He likes you, Alfric. He’s watched you every year in interview. He thinks highly of you. We’re authorized to offer you full management of the bank, with a baseline salary of five thousand saladins per annum plus 25 per cent of the profits.’
Alfric was staggered.
But The Bank would kill him if he so much as breathed of the Bank’s secrets.
‘As I keep trying to tell you,’ said Alfric, ‘it’s no good. Your offer’s based on a fallacy. There’s actually no Door in the Bank, and even if there was, it would be far too dangerous for anyone to confess knowledge to such.’ ‘That’s all right,’ said Cod, patting Alfric’s hand. ‘You can pretend with us if that’s what you want to do. It doesn’t make any difference to us. Just accept the job, that’s all we’re asking. As for danger — with powerful friends you’ll have nothing to worry about.’
‘It’s a long, long way from here to the Qinjoks,’ said Alfric.
‘Yes,’ said Cod. ‘But we’ll make you an ambassador as well as the head of your own bank. Besides, it’s no distance at all to Saxo Pall. Justina Thrug’s done well for herself, hasn’t she? Even so, she may not be immune to… to the lure of financial incentive.’
‘Justina?’ said Alfric. ‘How does she come into it?’ ‘That’s for y ou to say,’ said Cod. ‘But I venture to suggest that you could reward her most handsomely with but a fraction of your 25 per cent of the pro fits.’
‘I don’t think she’d want to deal with me,’ said Alfric.
‘Oh, but she does, she does,’ said Cod calmly. ‘She told us as much herself.’
‘What?!’
‘We had a brief conclave,’ said Cod. ‘With Justina, I mean. While you were talking with Comptroller Xzu. The three of us. Justina and us two. We went to the stench pits together. We told Justina that you had the favour of King Dimple-Dumpling. She’s agreed to see you in private interview at noon tomorrow, though as yet she doesn’t know what’s at stake.’
Alfric was staggered. He had grossly underestimated these orks, who were far better diplomats than he had thought. Earlier, he had seen fit to lecture them on the power politics of Wen Endex. Had even told them of Justina Thrug’s freshly won supremacy. And they had listened like little children receiving instruction — though they had known all about it all along.
‘So,’ said Cod. ‘It’s all set up. Almost. All you have to do is to agree to be our banker.’
Alfric thought about it.
‘You tell a pretty fairy tale,’ he said at last. ‘But there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why me? If your offer is as it is, why would you freely give me such wealth and such power?’
‘He’s a bit slow today,’ said Morgenstem.
‘That’s forgiveable,’ said Cod. ‘He’s been overworked these last few days.’ Then, to Alfric: ‘First, you’re a Yudonic Knight, not a commoner, so you can get things done in Galsh Ebrek. But you’re less of a barbarian than most Knights, so we feel comfortable dealing with you. You’re already privy to the secrets of the Flesh Traders’ Financial Association, which is the greatest of advantages. And — you’ve nowhere left to go.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He means,’ said Morgenstem, ‘this is your last chance in Galsh Ebrek. Otherwise, you’re finished. So you’re ours or you’re nothing.’
Cod smacked Morgenstem sharply on the shoulder, and said: -
‘Diplomacy, remember?’
‘I remember,’ said Morgenstem. ‘But talking in circles isn’t getting us anywhere in a hurry, is it?’
‘Maybe not,’ said Cod. ‘But at least we’ve got his attention.’
The orks had Alfric’s attention indeed. If he was made an ambassador, that would guarantee his personal safety. And, if he cut Justina Thrug in on the deal, he could set up a bank in Galsh Ebrek with no trouble at all. And, with the wealth of the Qinjoks behind him, he could swiftly become rich. He would have his power base, and nobody would be able to touch him. Unless Galsh Ebrek’s Bank… but on consideration, in all probability the Flesh Traders’ Financial Association would be more than happy to deal with him. Access to the resources of the Qinjoks would mean a permanent solution to the Bank’s intermittent liquidity problems.
No small matter, this. In theory the Partnership Banks were equal allies working to mutual advantage. In theory, a ran on the Bank in Dalar ken Halvar could be met by funds in Chi’ash-lan or vice versa; and the intricate treaties which bound the Banks together alleged that such support would be forthcoming automatically. But in practice, the larger Banks would happily combine to wreck one of their weaker associates if a profitable opportunity ever became available.
The wealth of the Qinjoks was a financial weapon which would make Galsh Ebrek great. The Flesh Traders’ Financial Association would acknowledge as much, and Banker Xzu and his fellows would have to deal with Alfric Danbrog as an equal. Between them, they would finance coal mines on Stokos, wars in the Cold West, forestry in Quilth, poetry in Tang…
As Alfric luxuriated in the possibilities, he realized that already he was committed. Cod was right. For Alfric, there were no options. The challenge would be great, and the dangers greater yet; but the bait was irresistible.
‘Well?’ said Cod. ‘Tell us your thoughts.’
‘I’m thinking,’ said Alfric gravely, ‘that the proposal you’re making would have to be subject to the negotiation of suitable terms. After all, 25 per cent is small recompense for the personal risks I’d be running, particularly when so much of the money would be going in bribes.’
‘Perhaps I know my own worth better than you,’ said Alfric calmly. ‘I’m thinking more along the lines of a 60–40 split.’
‘In your favour, I suppose,’ said Morgenstem sarcastically.
‘Yes,’ said Alfric.
This insolent audacity left Morgenstem temporarily dumbfounded, but Cod found tongue enough to say:
‘If thus you think, then please to think again, for 25 is our absolute maximum.’
‘Think I will,’ said Alfric solemnly.
But his head was filled not with percentages but with visions of glory. At whatever percentage, he would do a deal with these orks; and he would open his bank, and become rich, and great, and glorious. Already he was filled with a lust for enterprise, an enthusiasm for battle, and with savage hopes of ultimate triumph. Kingship of Wen Endex? His bank would give him a powerbase for making himself king, thus redeeming his father’s name and fulfilling his grandfather’s wishes.
Youth was over, yes; but all of manhood lay ahead. And, for Alfric, anything was possible.
Then Anna Blaume emerged from inside the Green Cricket to say:
‘There’s someone at the door. They want to see you.’
‘People?’ said Alfric, immediately beset by bloodstained visions of death and disaster.
‘Not dangerous people,’ said Anna Blaume. ‘People people.’
So Alfric went to the front door and found a most motley crew assembling outside. There were beggars and lepers, and widows in rags with bawling babies, and cripples and mutants, and more than a few people who were frankly insane.
Alfric realized then who these people were.
These people were Nappy’s constituency, those whose care Nappy had imposed upon him as the price of his life. Nappy must have spread the word before he ‘died in his sleep’, and obviously all of Galsk Ebrek knew by now.
Alfric began to suspect that he was going to pay a very, very heavy price for escaping murder at Nappy’s hands.
But he had no choice in the matter.
So he sighed, then said:
‘Come in.’
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