Assassin's Price

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You can and you will. I’m the one asking for the favor. You said you couldn’t help. Well, you can. But please keep it quiet. You understand?” It wouldn’t hurt even if Ferrand did let it slip. In fact, that would work in Charyn’s favor in another way.

  “If you insist…”

  “I insist.” Charyn gestured. “If we ride quietly around the back of the next hill there, and then take the north path, we just might be able to see some of the red deer.”

  3

  Charyn rode out from the chateau stables on the first Jeudi of Finitas a quint before seventh glass. The morning sky was gray, but the clouds were featureless and high, and there were only scattered gusts of light winds. With him were two guards, each wearing one of the nondescript brown leather coats that he had procured and personally paid for. He wore the gray-green woolen riding jacket and trousers, good garments but not that distinguishable from those worn by wealthy factors. The three took the ring road to L’Avenue D’Commercia straight to the Sud Bridge over the River Aluse.

  Although he had only met Factorius Elthyrd a handful of times, and only in passing when Elthyrd came to the chateau to discuss matters involving the comparatively recently formed Factors’ Council of Solidar, Charyn doubted that the factor, especially in his position as head of the Solidaran Council, would refuse to see him. Whether Elthyrd would acquiesce to what Charyn would ask was another question, although Charyn thought what he had in mind was not all that unreasonable—except to his own sire, which was another reason for the timing of his departure, since Lorien was anything but an early riser.

  When they reached the Sud Bridge and began to ride across, Charyn looked north, upstream toward Imagisle. He’d heard stories about how Maitre Alastar had once turned the river to solid ice in putting down the army rebellion against his father, although his parents had said almost nothing about it, and he probably wouldn’t have believed that story—except that six years earlier he’d personally seen three imagers kill almost two companies of rebel brownshirts who were attacking the Chateau D’Rex. They had been invisible until after they’d slaughtered almost all of the rebels, and none of them had looked that fatigued. As for what they’d later done to the rebel army … no one wanted to say much except that only a few hundred rebels survived—out of almost ten thousand.

  Charyn couldn’t see why anyone with any common sense would oppose the imagers. It made much more sense to be on their side, and it made even more sense not to be involved at all where the imagers might have to act. Too many powerful men—High Holders, senior army officers, and even his own grandfather—had died in one way or another when they’d crossed the Collegium.

  Once on the other side of the river, he headed south on the East River Road. Less than a fraction of a quint later, he reined up in front of the expansive timber factorage with long piers. Several men were at work unloading a flatboat, but Charyn could see that Elthyrd wasn’t on the piers. He dismounted and tied his horse to the bronze hitching post. “Just wait here.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Yarselt, the older of the two guards.

  Charyn had barely stepped into the factorage when Elthyrd walked toward him, a concerned expression on his face.

  “Lord Charyn … I must say your presence is rather unexpected.”

  “It’s almost as unexpected to me as to you. I’ve come to ask for a small favor. I do hope it’s a small one.” Charyn smiled. “No, I’m not asking for special timber at a ridiculously low price … or at any price.”

  “Then might I ask why you have favored us with your presence?”

  “Knowledge. In particular, information about how the commodity exchange works. If possible, I’d like to prevail upon you to give me a tour … as the nephew of a friend, not as Lord Charyn.”

  Elthyrd shook his head and laughed.

  Charyn couldn’t tell how much of the laughter was amusement and how much, if any, might be relief. He waited for the factor to speak.

  “Do you really think that knowledge will prove helpful?”

  “It might. As I recall, certain High Holders who were instrumental in the failed revolt did not understand the basics of the exchanges…” Charyn shrugged. “I doubt I know as much as they did.”

  “That you ask suggests otherwise. So does your presence a glass before the exchange opens.” Elthyrd tilted his head. “I presume that you would like me to offer this … visit … this morning?”

  “If it would not inconvenience you.” Charyn offered a sheepish grin. “Or not inconvenience you excessively.”

  “The inconvenience is minor—today. I’m just as glad you picked today. We have a quint or so before we need to leave. I’d suggest we take my coach. There isn’t much space around the exchange building, and it’s usually crowded first thing in the day, particularly after harvest and early in the month … although it would have been far too crowded on Lundi, because it was the first day of the month.”

  “I did bring guards.”

  “There’s a footman’s stand. It will accommodate two, but that might be obvious with their uniforms.”

  “They’re wearing brown coats that don’t show their uniforms and plain visor caps, like mine.”

  “You weren’t prepared to take a refusal, were you?”

  “I was prepared for that. The coats and caps were necessary if you agreed.”

  Elthyrd nodded. “After I give word to ready the coach, I could go over a few matters about the exchange.”

  “That would be most helpful.”

  “If you would excuse me for a moment?” Elthyrd did not wait for Charyn’s approval before turning and hurrying toward an archway to the right, which appeared to lead into a long corridor.

  While he waited, Charyn took in the modest low-ceilinged entry hall that barely seemed big enough for the two small table desks, on both of which were neat stacks of papers. Neither was occupied at the moment. Behind and to the left of the second table desk was an open door, which likely led into Elthyrd’s study, Charyn suspected.

  Elthyrd returned shortly. “The coach will be here before long.” He handed Charyn a pin shaped like a silver sheaf of grain. “Fasten that to your jacket where it can be seen. It’s a visitor’s pin.”

  Charyn saw a similar pin on Elthyrd’s jacket, except the factor’s pin was gold, with a small diamond stone set at the base of the sheaf. He fastened it to the narrow left lapel of his jacket.

  “What do you know about the exchange?”

  “Very little, except that it’s where trades of large quantities of commodities are conducted. I’ve assumed that those trades set the basic price for those goods, and that the more hands through which goods pass after that, the greater the markup of the price.”

  “That’s accurate, but a great oversimplification. Only the largest trades in this part of Solidar take place through the exchange, and not necessarily all of those, but that will be clearer once you see the exchange. You know that trading glasses are limited?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Charyn admitted.

  “Trading only takes place Lundi through Vendrei, and only from eighth glass to the second glass of the afternoon.” Elthyrd cleared his throat. “That doesn’t mean other trades don’t take place, but those are direct between buyer and seller…”

  Charyn listened.

  The older factor went on, for less than half a quint, when he looked up. “I hear the coach. We should go.”

  That was fine with Charyn. He wasn’t certain he’d really understood some of what Elthyrd had said. He just hoped seeing the exchange would help his comprehension. He followed Elthyrd back outside, where the breeze had picked up, and motioned to Yarselt. “Tie your mounts here. You two will have to ride on the rear footboard.”

  “Too bad I don’t have a rear dickey box,” said Elthyrd with a smile, “But I’m just a factor.”

  Once Charyn and Elthyrd were seated, Charyn glanced back.

  “We’re fine, sir,” Yarselt sa
id.

  “It’s a fairly short ride,” added the factor.

  Charyn knew that, since the exchange was located east of the East River Road some two blocks north of L’Avenue D’Artisans.

  As the carriage began to move, Elthyrd continued his explanation. “You might not have known from the outside, but the exchange building is divided into sections for purposes of trading. The north end is for metals and minerals—”

  “Iron, tin, copper, coal?”

  “And zinc, sulfur, and even salt,” continued Elthyrd. “The middle section is for things that grow—crops, other food-stocks, and timber. The south end deals with the rest—most of that is livestock, or livestock products—leather, wool.”

  “What about silver or jewels?”

  “Those aren’t commodities. Individual factors handle those. That’s enough for now.”

  Before long, the carriage came to a halt after pulling into a stone-paved turnout on the east side of the road, then creeping forward behind another carriage.

  Once the two alighted, Elthyrd cleared his throat. “No one will remark on one bodyguard. That’s allowed. Two … on the other hand.”

  “Yarselt, you’ll accompany me. Varyst, you stay with the carriage.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Charyn studied the exchange building as if he’d never seen it before—a long yellow brick structure with limestone quoins at all the corners, and limestone door and window frames. There were three double doors spaced equally across the front—all oak, and not brass-bound—presumably to provide direct access to each of the trading areas.

  Elthyrd headed toward the middle door. “The crops and timber section is the most active, and that will give you a better understanding more quickly.” He smiled. “It’s also closer.”

  Two guards stood at the entrance. Neither looked for more than an instant at Elthyrd, but one did look harder at Charyn, nodding as he saw the silver pin.

  Once inside, Elthyrd led the way to a trading area.

  Charyn didn’t know what to expect, but what he saw made sense. What amounted to stalls were set up on each side of the hall. There was a railing on three sides of each stall, with the back side being the wall, with three men inside the stall, one at a table desk with several open ledgers before him, and one standing between two slates mounted on frames, another at the side close to the railing.

  “Let’s see how wheat corn is doing.” Elthyrd’s words were not a suggestion.

  Charyn nodded and walked beside the factor. Yarselt followed closely.

  Elthyrd walked to the corner of the railed enclosure, away from the handful of men at the center of the railing, and beckoned Charyn to move closer before he spoke. “The minimum trade for wheat corn is a single lot of a hundred bushels. Almost every trade will be much larger than that, but they have to be made in hundred-bushel lots. If you look at the slate, you can see that someone is offering ten lots of good wheat corn at twelve coppers a bushel.”

  Charyn nodded. A hundred twenty golds for the ten lots. “Is that size trade large or small, or about where most take place?”

  “Crops aren’t my field,” replied Elthyrd dryly, “but ten lots is on the small side.”

  As Charyn watched, several of the men standing at the bar gestured. Abruptly, the trader looked to one man, who nodded, and then back to another and called out, “Done, at eleven and nine.”

  The young man beside the slate immediately chalked up, “10LT/11.9 10/5/08.” The man at the table desk made entries in two of the ledgers.

  “Next contract, fifty lots, prime, asking twelve and one…”

  More than six hundred golds. Charyn glanced the length of the hall. While it wasn’t that long, there were scores of traders, some moving from one commodity slate to the next.

  Beside the first slate was a second one, which listed months and had numbers next to the months. Charyn murmured to Elthyrd, “And the board on the side?”

  “Those are the latest prices for sale or delivery of a bushel on the first of the month.”

  “So you can buy a lot of wheat for delivery next Maris for that price?”

  “I wouldn’t, but you could.”

  Already another corn contract was being offered, Charyn realized. Close to a thousand golds changing hands in a fraction of a quint. Another thought struck him. “I don’t see flour…”

  “It’s not a commodity.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I’m not a grain factor. I have enough trouble knowing all I need to know about all the woods.”

  “Do you have any thoughts on that, sir?”

  “It’s probably because flour gets bought in smaller lots. Wheat corn gets bought in larger lots by millers. There’s no commodities market for finished wood planks for that reason.”

  “Because the buyers of large lots are only large factors like you?” Charyn thought for a moment. “Are there that many wood factors?”

  “Not here in L’Excelsis. I’m one of the larger factors, but certainly not the largest even in Solidar, but factors from all across Solidar and even from other lands have agents here with standing or special instructions for certain kinds and qualities of wood. That wouldn’t be possible if the River Aluse weren’t navigable for most of its length…”

  “Every tree is different. How can you price wood?”

  “Logs are graded by type of wood and quality. The standard lot is generally five hundred board yards. That’s a calculation, because you don’t know exactly how many usable board yards you’ll get, but the higher the quality…”

  Charyn listened intently. He had thought he was reasonably intelligent, but he could tell it would take time for him to truly understand how the exchange worked … but he did have an idea. When Elthyrd finished, Charyn cleared his throat. “Who can trade on the exchange? Just factors? Or can High Holders?”

  Elthyrd smiled indulgently. “We’re not particularly selective in that respect. Anyone who can post the bond and who is endorsed by another member can trade.”

  “What is the bond? Thousands of golds?”

  The factor shook his head. “There are two classes—merchant and factor. Merchant traders must post a five-hundred-gold bond, in physical golds held by the exchange. Factor traders must post a thousand-gold bond.”

  Charyn frowned. “But … I just saw trades of over a thousand golds in a few moments.”

  “The bond is proof of some assets. You still have to deposit or transfer golds upon a sale. Failure to settle accounts by a glass after the exchange closes results in immediate suspension. Failure to settle within two weeks results in permanent suspension. For a merchant or a factor who needs the exchange, that could destroy his business.”

  “Or cost so much that it might as well?”

  “So far, no one who has been suspended has retained their factorage or lands.”

  For a moment, Charyn was taken aback. Finally, he asked, “Can anyone really apply to trade?”

  “Under those conditions, yes.”

  Charyn swallowed, then said, “I fear I’m going to ask for another favor.”

  “Oh?” Elthyrd’s words were skeptical.

  “I’d like to set up a merchant account under a family name I can use. Would that be possible?”

  The factor frowned.

  Charyn waited.

  “I think I’d like to know more.”

  “That’s exactly why,” Charyn replied. “I’ve already seen enough to know that I know little, and that it would take time to learn more. I cannot ask you or anyone else to accompany me here day after day. But … if it were known that I am the son of a distant High Holder trying to determine whether using the exchange would be beneficial…”

  “Let me think about that while I show you more.”

  “As you think best, Factorius.”

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  “What about iron? Does the exchange trade iron?”

  “No. Karl and Vaschet’s ironworks are the on
ly ones in the whole midsection of Solidar producing pigs or plate. All you can do is try to get the best deal from either.”

  “I thought the Banque D’Excelsis … that’s your son…”

  “He owns the ironworks.” Elthyrd snorted. “Between the Banque and the arbitraging and bills of exchange for foreign traders, he’ll work himself to death, and that’s without spending enough time on the ironworks.”

  “Does he like running the ironworks?”

  “I have my doubts, but he’s never said.”

  “He can’t sell it?”

  “To whom? It’s worth a lot, but the margins are low, and no factor likes low-margin businesses, and none of the local High Holders either want it or could afford it. It’s a lot of work for not that much profit—and that’s when things are going well.”

  Interesting. “What about rope and hemp? Don’t you factor that?”

  “My younger son Therard has been running that. He’s doing quite well.”

  “I don’t imagine rope or hemp are traded on the exchange.”

  “That’s good for our purposes.” Elthyrd turned. “We might as well look at the timber contracts.”

  Charyn again followed, trying to take in everything around him.

  Almost a glass later, Elthyrd drew Charyn aside under one of the high windows. “You realize that trading on the exchanges is risky, especially without experience. Traders have been known to lose ten thousand golds in a day. It’s not an advisable form of gambling.”

  “Gambling has never held any attraction for me.” That was absolutely true.

  “What name would you wish to use?”

  “Suyrien.” Charyn spelled it out.

  “From where?”

  “I have a small property east of Talyon. It’s called Chaeryll.”

  “How small?”

  “Some five hundred hectares. Part of it is an old hunting lodge, but I have rents from over three hundred hectares.”

  “More than a mille on side isn’t what most would consider small.”