by Patty Jansen
That was such a huge amount of money that Mikandra's head reeled. From her father's talk, about half the monthly budget of the Mirani council.
Rehan again gave him a sharp glance. Signalling his brother to tell her to go away and stop divulging business details?
"What . . . do you want me to do?" She had trouble keeping her voice even. She had just accepted her place. Officially. The acceptance would have been sent to Kedras immediately. She wanted to go. "Can I help?"
"I think you may be better off waiting at home—"
"Please?" No, she couldn't go home; she made her decision.
Braedon's eyes met hers. Not as light as Iztho's but still light blue. His expression said, This problem is bigger than all of us. He sighed. "It's really not the best time—"
"Please? Can I help, and I don't mean make the tea, because I'm no good at that."
Rehan said, "She's got to go home. We do not have time for another run-in with Asitho Bisumar on top of all this."
A meaningful look passed between the brothers.
What run-in?
Taerzo said, "Iztho sponsored her."
"She was going to work for him," Rehan said, his voice hard.
To Mikandra's ears, everything they said over her head sounded like What is she even doing here? What was our brother thinking?
"Honestly, I could use an extra pair of eyes," Braedon said. "Seeing as we can't trust that idiot of an accountant—"
"Oh, he'll be back," Rehan said. "If necessary, I'll lock him in the office until he tells us the full story. He will fix his mistakes, and we'll see how he copes with that before we decide whether or not to keep him."
"He is not here now, and it would still pay to have someone who's completely independent to check the accounts."
"I can do that," Mikandra said. "I do accounts for the emergency ward."
Rehan's icy gaze—annoyed—went to her.
She returned his stare. Courage. She straightened her back. Rehan Andrahar was an overbearing, rude, foul-mouthed bully, but he did not frighten her. "I can do sums and read long and detailed financial reports and write summaries. I do that every day at the hospital. If you want to check the books I can help." She held up her letter. "I have this."
"Have you sent in your official acceptance?"
She nodded.
Rehan glanced at his brothers and when neither responded, he blew out breath in a sniff. "All right. We have a lot of accounts to go through. Show her the court documents."
A very small victory. But clearly neither Rehan nor Braedon thought that she ought to be there.
Taerzo's eyes met hers. One corner of his mouth lifted. It was through him that she had gotten the idea to apply. He was a friend of Lihan Ilendar's and had been visiting one night she was at Lihan's house. He'd said Things need to change. Miran needs to change. The Mirani chapter of the Guild needs to change and change meant accepting non-Mirani-born Guild members and allowing them to settle in Miran. It meant appointing different people from the traditional Traders. Women, non-Endri.
Braedon gave Mikandra a letter in a similar red envelope as the one she had received. Another message delivered by the dead courier?
None of the brothers looked at her as she opened it and unfolded the couple of sheets that were inside. The Trader Guild stamp was on all of them—the date in Trader Standard a few days ago—including the Andrahar licence number 1101.
There were a few copies of documents with lists of items, times and values, but she had no idea what they meant. There was a summons to appear in court on 4515-13-25, which was a Trader date and corresponded with . . . uhm . . . at least more than a Mirani suncycle, perhaps even two. She'd need to sit down and work it out properly. Kedras days were shorter than Ceren's, they had only one sun, so no cycles, and divided their short year into arbitrary months. She thought there were fifteen, but she wasn't sure.
She really needed a timer to work it out.
The main letter was a single page, in Coldi, with the emblem of the Trader Court stamped and signed at the bottom. It was oddly disjointed and curt in tone.
Matter to be dealt with: criminal charge concerning the illegal import of menisha fungus, brought by the Barresh Council. Illegal product found in a consignment of goods shipped from Miran to Barresh under the permit of the Andrahar Traders as per the attached documents.
Mikandra studied the page, which was nothing more than a list of goods and quantities, one of which was underlined. Dried Menisha fungus. She used it whole or in powder form in the hospital. When boiled in water, the fungus made a powerful tea. When dissolved in spirits, it made the brew that ruined the lives of so many.
Mikandra frowned. "Since when is the export of menisha illegal?"
Taerzo replied. "Barresh is the only entity that has banned it. Probably to spite us, because it's the only thing they used to import from us in any quantity." His voice trembled with anger.
Mikandra had often hoped that Miran would ban it. If Barresh imported it in quantity, they were likely to have a problem with abuse by citizens. Barresh was not very big, so the abuse would be obvious. She couldn't blame anyone for banning menisha.
She went over the page again, studying the other items listed in the shipment. "It seems a bit odd to have a couple of dried bags of fungus mixed up with a delivery of tiles, marble and—what's quartz for?"
"It's a stone used for carvings, trimmings, ornaments and clear displays. Mostly artificial. With exception of the fungus, these are all specialist construction or industrial materials."
Rehan said, "This claim is rubbish. This whole suspension, the court case, the threats. They're all rubbish. Iztho doesn't deal with the stuff. Braedon does, but he only sells extract, not the whole dried fungus. We don't have this shipment on any of our books, and not on our courier logs. We don't sell anything to Barresh. They don't have the money to buy anything we sell."
"But if you don't have the shipment on your books, it would be easy to prove your innocence."
"It should be," Braedon said, "But unfortunately, evidence given by the Exchange takes precedent over anything we can supply. They're supposed to be always right."
The Exchange was right, because they had to be. When they established anpar lines between worlds in different systems, there was no margin for error. It was vital that they knew the weight and content of each craft that they transferred, and collected that data even if the craft remained on the same world and didn't use anpar lines.
She asked, "How would you prove that they're not right then?"
"Any transport the Exchange logs comes from the nodes involved. Since there was no anpar transfer, the main Exchange hub in Damarq would not have logged anything that wasn't also recorded elsewhere. The first step will be to ask for the logs from all directly involved Exchange nodes, Miran and Barresh to see if it matches up. To get this type of information requires lengthy processes."
"What do you think happened? Is it an error?"
Rehan snorted. "Barresh has made up this charge to punish Iztho for whatever went on there last year. Now he is missing, and we've got the Hedron account due and thanks to the suspension, no fucking money to pay it."
Taerzo said, "I'm betting Barresh has something to do with Iztho's disappearance."
Braedon said, "Hang on, brother, let's not make assumptions we can't prove. Let's worry about the money first."
"It's rubbish!" Rehan said, speaking into the window. "It's fabricated nonsense. We don't sell agricultural produce and we don't smuggle. We don't sell to Barresh. We pay our bills on time, especially to the Hedron Mines."
"We do," Braedon said. "We can't be sure about Iztho. Can you be sure that he didn't sell to Barresh?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" Rehan whirled at him. "Because he wouldn't do that sort of thing. There is no point for him to do it, even though he's an arsehole who never let us in with whatever he had planned. Disappearing for days on end, refusing to talk to us. Making decisions without us . . ." He glared at Mikandr
a and she was sure agreeing to train her was such a decision. He blew out a breath through flaring nostrils. "So what is our response to his arseholery? We all stake out our little corner of work and ignore what else goes on in the rest of the business. As long as we don't have to deal with him. And now there is a problem and we have no idea what the fuck has been going on in our administration. That doesn't look good, huh?"
"It's not your fault, brother," Taerzo said. "I can't see what else we could have done. As you say, it's not like he ever makes it easy for anyone to work with him."
Rehan whirled around and grabbed Taerzo by the collar of his shirt. "We should have kept a closer eye on him. We should have checked his books, asked what he was doing. I know he didn't want to share anything, but we should have forced him. I am at fault. You are at fault. We're all at fault." Rehan had gone red in the face. "When that whole fucking mess blew up in Barresh, we should not have let him sort it out, no matter how much he told us he was on top of things."
Taerzo coolly yanked his shirt out of his brother's grip. They were about the same length, except Taerzo still retained the lankiness of youth. "There is not much point in being aggressive about it. I'm not your enemy."
"Then shut your smartarse mouth. You have no fucking idea what you're talking about."
"Who, exactly are you accusing of being an arsehole?"
"Are you applying for the title? Great. You're an arsehole. Happy now?"
"How is anyone supposed to work with you? You're just as bad as him—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Rehan whirled and slammed both his hands on the table with such force that the pile of books next to Braedon wobbled.
Mikandra sat as if frozen, not daring to move or make a sound. No one at home fought like this.
Braedon said, without looking up from his work, "Hey, man, go be a nuisance somewhere else. I'm working."
Taerzo went to the couch and sat down, his back stiff. Rehan went back to the window and stared into the darkness. He stood with his legs apart and brought his weight onto one leg and then the other and back again in a fluid movement. "Hurry the fuck up, all right? I want this resolved. I have work to do."
Braedon glared at his brother's back. "Nothing is going to happen before the court case."
"Then we get ready for the fucking court case. Prove that even though Iztho's an arsehole, he is the right kind of arsehole. He did not do this."
Chapter 7
After a long and tense silence, Braedon shoved a pile of books across the table to Mikandra. "I want these two accounts checked." He went on to explain in a low voice that they kept one account for each of their large clients, and a running account for business payments. There were always a lot of inter-account transfers. Apparently, the accountant had admitted to the fact that the books didn't balance and that the running account had been bleeding money in undisclosed small payments.
"We need to find this money. Or any money. Iztho has so many accounts set up that it's impossible to trace where the missing amount went. We are looking for any accounts that we didn't already know about, particularly personal ones, because we can still access those and we might be able to scrape enough together for a downpayment to the Hedron Mines that will keep them happy until we solve the issue in court."
"When is the court case?"
He mentioned a date in Trader years that translated into midwinter in Miran. A fair while away, and just before the academy started. For her, it would either make or break her future, and if she wanted to stay and take up her spot, she desperately had to make herself useful.
"So, when I go through these books, is there anything in particular that I should be looking for?" She glanced at Rehan. His gaze followed her in the reflection in the window.
"Anything irregular. I've found small amounts of money disappearing, all of which is starting to add up to quite a bit. The missing money has got to be somewhere. The less time we take finding it, the better. I appreciate your help." He cast a sideways glance at Rehan.
Rehan wheeled on the spot, his boots noisily sliding over the marble floor. He glared at Braedon and marched out the room.
If he was so impatient, why wasn't he helping? Or were accounts beneath him?
Mikandra opened the first book.
Columns of neatly-written figures. Amounts of produce sold, amounts imported. Cost, quarantine levies, council tax.
Braedon explained. "Add up the income. See if it matches the running balance given at the bottom."
"Don't you have all this on the system?" She thought Traders were all modern and advanced.
"Yes, but those figures have had entries left out or deleted so any pages where you find an incorrect balance give them to me and I'll check with the system which record is not entered."
Mikandra started on the first page and did as he said. The balance matched. She turned to the next page. It matched, too.
Rehan's voice drifted in from the hub in the hallway, ". . . Iztho, for fuck's sake, this is not a joke anymore . . . I know we didn't exactly part on good terms last time we saw each other, but please, stop being stupid and come home. This is about everything we have worked for."
This was followed by silence. Then a thud against the wall. Rehan's fist, she guessed.
Mikandra turned page after page. Added up, compared, turned the next page. Braedon worked next to her. He was very quick with sums and turned his pages much faster than she. Trying to keep up with him became a challenge. It got late and later, long past the time she normally went to sleep, yet she didn't feel tired.
Taerzo came to collect one of the books and sat on the couch with it.
She had gone perhaps twenty pages when she discovered the first irregular transfer. A relatively small amount of money that came from an item called proxy fees.
She showed Braedon.
"Yes, that's like the others. They are non-descript entries for strange items. I have no idea what proxy fees are or why Iztho should be collecting any fees. Any fees that I know of are expenditure, not income. Likely it doesn't show on the system and there is no account with that name or other information where the money has gone. I don't understand why the accountant let all this slip."
Two options, really, and stories about his work as Lawkeeper that Father had told at the dinner table had attuned her to these things: either the accountant had been a fraud or Iztho had been trying to unobtrusively bleed money away from the business accounts.
"How long has this accountant worked for you?"
"Quite a long time. Before I got my licence."
"Does he have any problems at home?"
Braedon gave a her a how am I supposed to know that? look.
Mikandra shrugged. "It could be that he has a personal problem, like gambling or . . ." drinking. She shuddered. ". . . a severely ill relative and he's used the money to cover his debts."
"Could be." His frown deepened. "Doesn't help us right now, though."
They kept working.
Taerzo fell asleep on the couch with his feet propped up on the armrest. His arm hung off the couch, twitching occasionally. The book lay open on his stomach.
Mikandra stared into the room.
Behind the couch stood an old cabinet. It was an ancient thing with three sides of engraved glass and glass shelves, all meticulously kept free of dust. Inside, on the shelf, stood a box with its lid open.
On a bed of the finest embroidered silk lay a simple river stone such as boys skimmed over the water when the river was calm enough to form quiet pools. It was attached to a gold loop at the narrow end. Its surface had been polished a bit, and circling its widest point was a band of silver. She couldn't see them from here, but its surface would be engraved with the finest letters that would need a magnifying glass to read. Yet she knew the text. Every child in Miran started their education with these words. We uphold the justice and the peace. In the ancient language.
This was the Foundation stone, which gave the heir of the five Foundation families the right to
veto any decision made by the council. There had been much misuse of this right which was why the other four stones sat in a cabinet in the main foyer of the library, after having been returned to the council, voluntarily or by force. The Andrahar family was the only one of the five families to still have their stone, and she had never dared hope to see it.
Rehan came back into the room and paced around the table, between the cupboard and the couch, around the middle of the room and back again. And again. And agai—
"Stop it, brother," Braedon said.
Rehan whirled around. "What?"
"Stop pacing. It's annoying. Sit down. Go to bed."
"And you think I can sleep?"
"Go and talk to Mother, then." He cast a glance at the closed door on the far end of the living room, which would be the matriarch Isandra's room.
Rehan's expression was furious. "She's asleep. I'll go when we have something to tell her about how we're getting out of this mess. She'll be happy in her room until that time."
"Whatever. I don't care. Just stop pacing around."
"I want to fucking do something. I've got clients waiting for me." He stuck his thumbs in the loops in his belt and drummed his fingers on the leather.
Mikandra stared at those fingers. Heard Eydrina's voice Just ignore the waggling and jiggling. It will drive you mad.
Menisha addiction.
She looked up into his face. He met her eyes. There was no sign of discolouration in the whites, but that was a late-stage problem. The inability to concentrate—or add up sums—was not. Her cheeks glowed. She had to look away.
The cupboards against the back wall contained the family's precious tableware and glasses. One of the cabinets held an assortment of bottles. There was bound to be some brew amongst those. Menisha was a popular late-night drink for cold winter nights. Almost every family would have some. The fact that Endri didn't present to the hospital with addiction problems didn't mean that there were none. Just look at Leitho.