Trader's Honour

by Patty Jansen

  "I hear that the Asto and Hedron sections have more female students than male ones."

  "But certainly you can't compare yourself to them? You're a noble lady."

  "I'll think about it," she repeated.

  She was getting irritated with this man. Why didn't he mind his own business? Why didn't he say what he wanted, like I would really like it if you went out with my nephew because he needs to get married or some sort of stupid thing. Because he wanted to get into Father's pocket, or, more importantly, she realised with a shock, he wanted to get a line into whatever happened at the Andrahar Traders.

  He and Thaeron went into a discussion about subjects Thaeron would be doing, but it was mostly a monologue by Antho. Mikandra was starting to feel extremely tired with her belly comfortably full and her feet warm. Eventually, Antho heaved himself to his feet and said, "Well, I leave you youngsters to it. I have this afternoon's meeting to prepare." And he ambled out of the room.

  Mikandra met the young man's eyes and couldn't help thinking that he looked younger than her. She felt sorry for him. He wilted under his uncle's shadow.

  "Uncle and I were surprised that you signed with the Andrahar Traders." His voice said disappointed rather than surprised.

  "I made a list of businesses I wanted to sign with, started at the top, and they signed me."

  "The Andrahar Traders are in a lot of trouble."

  Or do you wish them to be in a lot of trouble? "I don't think so."

  "Oh? How so?" He really did that innocent adolescent very well.

  "They're strong and they're determined to survive." That sacrifice by Rehan still gave her the chills, but it was Isandra who had suggested it. She, and Rehan, had a healthy attitude of what it meant to be in business. If times were tough, you cut your spending. Father always said similar things about the council.

  Thaeron said, "I don't know that the Andrahar Traders can survive this."

  "Why? They've done nothing wrong."

  "Oh, it's not just this charge, but everything else as well."

  "Is there more?"

  He nodded, and leaned closer to her. "There are at least three court cases in preparation."

  Three court cases? Hang on— "How do you know this?"

  "Uncle sits at court."

  That same uncle who had leaked confidential information to Nemedor Satarin. That same uncle who wanted her to room close to all the other Mirani students.

  "I thought court information was confidential. My aunt used to sit at court, too."

  "It is confidential. I'm just warning you. Between friends."

  Friends? My arse. "Thank you." She rose. "If you'll excuse me now. I have some work to do."

  She rose and left the room, smiling at him.

  In the corridor, she blew out a big breath. Well, what the hell was that about? The politics Iztho had warned her about. Not hostility by non-Mirani Traders or the council, but undermining from within the Mirani chapter itself.

  Within this building, every word, every deed had meaning and needed to be monitored. She was an empty slate, so people were trying to win her over to their side.

  Mikandra went into the room where she had left her cloak. The notes had gone from the message slot. She had wanted to sleep, but the incident had wound her up so much that she wasn't tired anymore.

  She sat down on the couch. Like all things in the building, it was a thing of quality, made from heavy wood and covered with lush red fabric. There was also a desk, empty except for a carafe and a glass—both empty. The small cupboard was empty, too. In the desk's drawer, she found a copy of the Trader manual. She had seen printed copies on the shelf in Lihan's father's office, but had never looked at one. She picked it up and leafed through the thick pages.

  The first page contained the Trader pledge, and after that, there were instructions on ethics and how and what to report in terms of armed activities, rebellion and secessionism.

  It said that Traders, especially those with arms licences, were to report to the Guild if they witnessed signs of organised rebellion or signs that supplied goods were used for purposes of war either against other entities or against groups of civilian or military nature within entities. Traders were to stop supplying arms to either party. They were to withdraw from all future deals.

  She had seen all this before, and knew a lot of it off by heart. She put the book down.

  The room had a tiny window which looked out over part of the noble quarter and the commercial quarter and one corner of the council building complex, the part that was disused and waiting for plans to rebuild it. It was still snowing. Over the other side of the ancient city wall, she could just make out the airport in the flurries of white drift. There was the low building where people waited for their flights, and the large open space on the other wide was where the craft would stop for passengers to disembark.

  The Trader and commercial area was to the left, a group of smaller snow-covered aircraft parked in a grid pattern. The snow would make their operation erratic. The cold was very hard on the Asto-built craft, many of which refused to work in freezing temperatures. This was one of the reasons the Trader Guild headquarters hadn't come to Miran as it should have, because the Mirani Traders had a major influence on the foundation of the Guild. Also, people from other entities often found it hard to cope with the altitude.

  A merchant's employee wheeled a trolley laden with boxes through the street below. A cart waited at an entrance. A bit further up the street, two people talked to each other, both hidden in fur cloaks that hid their identity or even gender.

  There was a light on behind one of the windows of the disused wing of the council building. That made her do a double-take. She didn't think that those buildings had been used for many years, not at least since she'd been a little girl. But there was definitely a light on, and someone moved in the room, too far for her to see any detail.

  The person now came to stand in front of the window and looked out for a while before turning back into the room.

  Strange.

  There wasn't much else to see, so Mikandra sat on the couch again.

  It was quiet in this part of the building, with the merest sound of voices drifting in from the corridor and the large room. It sounded like a lot more people had arrived in the common room.

  She stared at the stucco pattern in the opposite wall. Her eyes felt scratchy and her head swam with numbers. She took off her shoes, lay on the couch and spread the cloak over her. The couch was too small to stretch out and the cushions too firm to be comfortable. There was no pillow. She should get up and unfold that bed, but then she'd have to put the sheets on as well, and she couldn't be bothered. She'd do that later, after dark.

  The wind made odd noises when whistling around the outside windowsill. A Guild employee in red came down the corridor, looked into the room. "Mikandra Bisumar?"

  "Yes, that's me." She pushed herself up.

  "I have some items for you." He put a bag on the carpet—a familiar one that normally lived in the bottom of her wardrobe. Inside, she found her hunting clothes and all the other things she had asked for, as well as a small bag of sweets. There was also a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a flower. She recognised it as Liseyo's. A note in young handwriting said, I will miss you so much. I will think of you every day. Please come back soon.

  Mikandra's eyes misted over.

  Folded behind it, there was a second note. In neat the handwriting she knew to be Mother's, it had a single sentence. Go and make me proud.

  She stared at those words through a film of tears.

  Here was she talking about courage, but how much courage did it take to be married at a young age to a dominating man who demanded a son to continue his business, but to give him two infertile daughters instead? And to remain married to this man for the sake of those daughters, and endure his rage and his domineering.

  She held the note to her chest.

  "I will, Mother. I will."

  Chapter 1
2

  Mikandra lay back down on the couch and somehow, she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up with a shock when a group of men walked through the corridor and came, talking loudly, past the door which she should have closed, but hadn't. One of the men looked suspiciously like Aithno Ilendar. The man walking next to him looked sideways and—

  "Lihan!" She pushed herself up.

  By the time she had stumbled to the door on legs that had gone stiff with sleeping in an uncomfortable position, he had already passed, but he stopped and backtracked while his colleagues and his father went on.

  She felt groggy. No doubt her hair was a mess and she probably had the seams of the cushions from the couch impressed in her cheeks. Not how she wanted to face him.

  "Mikandra? What are you doing here?" Since she had last seen him, he had grown visibly more mature. His face was all angles, his brow furrowed, and eyebrows heavy, with odd hairs springing up at irregular angles. No longer a gangly adolescent.

  "I got accepted." It was the happiest thing she'd wanted to tell him.

  He turned around and called to his father and colleagues, "You go ahead. I'll be along soon."

  His cheeks were red from the cold and he smelled of outside air. There were still snow flakes in that part of the collar of his cloak that stuck up behind his neck. His hair was tied at the back of his head except for two thin plaits on either side of his head, which were intricately interwoven with green and blue ribbons. There was an engraved bronze bead on the end of each, which made the plaits swing. Through the opening of his cloak, she spotted his Trading medallion. The Ilendar licence number was 1110.

  He said, "How did you manage to get into the academy? Your aunt told me that she wasn't going to accept any apprentices."

  "I'm sponsored by the Andrahar brothers." Drat. He looked every bit as alert and smart as she wasn't.

  His eyes widened and he whistled through his teeth. "Well . . . that is . . . interesting." She studied his face for signs of happiness, and saw none.

  "Interesting?" Was that all? He'd promised to be with her and now "interesting" was all he could muster? "What is wrong? I thought we'd do this together. I thought . . ." But she no longer knew what she thought, except that she must have been crazy to think that she'd ever belong in his world.

  Girls belonged in the theatre. Or in the hospital.

  Why had she even thought that he was different? That he would treat her like a person rather than a girl.

  He sighed. "You should probably come to the meeting that's been called. We're talking about the court case and the laws that are before the council." He looked down the corridor. A few others walked past, talking. "It's for all present Guild members. Let's go, or we'll be late."

  Mikandra smoothed down her hair while they walked down the corridor. She still worried about her cheeks and wished there was a mirror somewhere. She probably looked ridiculous.

  He stopped just before they reached the end of the corridor. "Mikandra, I have to warn you. I'm not sure if it's the best time to be involved with the Andrahar brothers."

  He was going to play the jockeying-for-her-vote game, too? "It will be fine. I know about their problems." She probably sounded a bit more curt than she needed to, but damn, why was everyone fishing for what she knew?

  "They're in a lot deeper than it looks on the surface."

  "I know."

  "I don't think you do."

  "Stop acting like I'm just a little girl, Lihan."

  He frowned in a what-did-I-do-wrong kind of way. "I'm not acting—"

  "Yes you are. Everything you say implies that you think I'm just a girl and that I should go back home because I'm a girl and that I can't possibly understand what's going on and that I shouldn't get involved and let the men sort it all out."

  His frown deepened. "I'm actually concerned about your safety. I don't give a damn about the gender of Guild applicants. You know that."

  "You don't give a damn about me."

  He pulled her aside into the entrance to the kitchen. He glared at her and she glared back.

  "You never even spoke to me after you went to Kedras." Damn she was angry all of a sudden.

  "I was busy."

  "Too busy to talk to someone who's been your friend since we first went to school?" Too busy to see a girl you kissed?

  He sighed and let his shoulders sag.

  Another group of men walked past in the direction of the large common room.

  One said, "Come on, Lihan, you're going to miss the action."

  "I'll be there soon."

  The men opened the door—the sound of many voices drifted into the corridor—and went into the room.

  "I'm sorry." Lihan sighed again and shrugged. "Look, I haven't forgotten any of that." One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes twinkled with that mirth she knew so well. For a moment she felt that everything was going to be fine. That he'd just been busy and would ask her to come and work for him when she had completed her apprenticeship with the Andrahar brothers, when their debt was paid, Iztho was married and their succession settled.

  Then the smile faded from his face. "Thank you for that. You were a good friend and I will remember our times together fondly. As for what happened that last time when we were together . . ." He smiled again. "Let's keep that a secret between us, shall we? No need to tell anyone."

  Mikandra wanted to scream, But you promised . . ., but the truth was he had not promised anything after kissing her.

  His mouth twitched. "We all have little immature flings."

  Little immature flings? "You were my best friend for years." She hated how her voice sounded unsteady. Damn, she was tired and cranky and not in the mood for this.

  He nodded, but his face betrayed no emotion. "I will continue to be your friend, and I will speak to you as a friend, after the meeting, because we really must go."

  Mikandra could get angry and make a scene, but there was nothing left to be said. He'd moved on without telling her, and didn't feel in the slightest bit sorry about it, and didn't even understand why she was angry. A fight would not solve anything and would make her look like a needy girl, so she'd treat him like he'd treated her for the past few years: with ice cool and distant professionalism.

  But damn it, was this what she'd been waiting for all those years?

  She followed him down the rest of the corridor and into the large room, where more Traders had gathered than there were chairs, and most of them stood around the perimeter of the room. The vast majority of them were men, important-looking heads of families and their sons dressed in uniform, a wall of khaki shirts and trousers. Some wore heavy cloaks of thick and lush fur, Trader medallions and other decorations proudly displayed on chests. Several wore timers and readers on their belts. Faces were solemn.

  There were also a couple of green uniforms from Bendara Traders. One of those was a woman. She smiled at Mikandra.

  Still within the borders of the Mirani nation, Bendara was the vast agricultural area that bled into the western forests, the jungle and then eventually, the western coast marshes, and Barresh.

  Antho Tussamar sat at the same table near the hearth where he had been sitting before, except that spot had now become the centre of the audience. Rehan Andrahar stood on the other side of the room. He met her eyes and his gaze lingered until she had to look away. There was no emotion in his face. Aithno Ilendar sat on the table next to Antho Tussamar, clutching a cup of tea.

  Mikandra wriggled herself between all the men so that she had a better view, causing a few raised eyebrows. She should really have put on her apprentice uniform.

  Antho Tussamar drummed his fingers on the table. "All here?"

  "Yeah," said someone at the back of the audience.

  While everyone was silent, the door into foyer outside opened and someone else came in. People stepped aside to let this person through.

  The newcomer was Aunt Amandra, slipping her cloak from her shoulders. She had clearly just come from council, wi
th drops of molten snow in her hair and her face red from the cold.

  "Sorry to keep everyone waiting." She pushed to the table at the front and sat down in the seat next to Antho Tussamar, dropping her cloak on the third seat. He pushed a cup of tea across the table to her.

  "Thank you." She looked around the room and her gaze found Mikandra's. Her eyes widened.

  Antho Tussamar cleared his throat. "So now that we are all here, we can start. There has been an unfortunate development overnight, with the court having suspended the licence of one of our members. For those who haven't heard, though I don't think there will be many, the Andrahar Traders have been asked to provide evidence that they didn't illegally import prohibited substances into Barresh.

  "Aithno called this meeting to see if we as the Mirani chapter need to formulate a response to this charge. He seems to have some concerns about the process and what this means for the Mirani chapter in general. It's probably better if he explains this himself. Aithno?"

  Lihan's father rose and stood in the middle of the room until there was silence. He was an imposing man with heavy eyebrows and a large and straight nose. Damn, even though his son was a spoilt dick, Mikandra still respected him.

  "My argument is simple. I have known Jihan Andrahar and his sons for many years. We trained together, we worked together. When Jihan was killed in that accident, I helped his sons through the hard times. Although the Andrahar Traders are our competitors, I have high respect for them. Whatever people here may say about Iztho, I have always known him as hard worker who is extremely loyal—"

  "Loyal to himself, yes." Someone at the back, the voice of a younger man. A couple of others shushed him.

  "—extremely loyal to Miran, and a man whose word is worth more than gold. I know Rehan, Braedon and Taerzo as the same. There is no way that they would ever do anything wrong. I think most, if not all, of you here will agree."

  There was some murmuring in the room.

  "As I see it, this charge is motivated solely by politics. About a year ago, Iztho made a call of judgement based on Trader Law to suspend his support for a council plan involving the export from Barresh of locally-developed weaponry."