Trader's Honour

by Patty Jansen

  There was some muttering at this.

  Aithno Ilendar continued, "The Andrahar brothers have an arms licence. There was nothing illegal about the deal in Mirani Law, but he judged it against Trader Law, because unrest was already brewing in Barresh, especially with the local Pengali people eager to establish their rights other than as domestic servants for the other local faction, the keihu people. Iztho judged that the money paid for weapons would go towards the ruling keihu party, who would use it for political aims to repress the rebellion, all with full support of the Mirani army who, at that time, controlled the enclave. He elected to pull out of the deal, which was a very wise decision. I would have done the same, and not doing so would have been a breach of Trader Law."

  A few men muttered. Some voices sounded unhappy, but most seemed to agree.

  An older Trader close to Mikandra said, "There was no weaponry."

  The man next to him, probably his son, said, "He was asked to bring people against their will. Nothing to do with weapons. He was asked to bring unwilling victims. Slaves."

  "Wait, wait," Aithno Ilendar said, looking at the men next to Mikandra. "Let's not repeat those unproven rumours."

  "Well then let's prove or disprove the rumours," the Trader's son said. "Let's stop running circles around the council and trying to keep out of its way. If this business is as vile as the rumours suggest, someone has a lot of explaining to do."

  "There is no explaining necessary," Aunt Amandra said. "Because there is no truth to any of those rumours of people smuggling. I speak for the council as well as the Guild. The contract with Iztho Andrahar was for weapons. I can show you the documents. I'm trying my best to uphold the Guild's position in the council, but this unfounded gossip is not helping our position in the slightest. Please stick to the known facts. Miran does not trade people."

  The father muttered something under his breath about politicians.

  Aunt Amandra continued, "Also, if Nemedor Satarin wants to banish all foreign influence from Miran, it would make no sense at all for him to import any."

  The son snorted. "We heard that argument before. I still don't believe it. I spoke to Iztho, and he was pretty clear. He was to bring a prisoner to Miran. He refused on the grounds that it was people smuggling. That was the deal that fell through. Nothing to do with weapons."

  Aunt Amandra said, "My definition of prisoner involves a convicted criminal and there would have been a formal charge against this person. In such cases, people can be exchanged. There is no formal charge anywhere. Not here, and not in Barresh. There was no prisoner. The rumours are without base. Please stop spreading these rumours."

  "I agree," one of the Bisumar twins said. "The rumours were started by Barresh because they hate us."

  The Trader's son next to Mikandra crossed his arms over his chest.

  Aithno Ilendar continued, "Anyway, whatever the exact issue, the locals in Barresh grew angry. They protested against what they saw as Mirani occupation. They started fights with our troops in Barresh, and lost. But while street fights were still going on, some very smart locals proceeded to apply to gamra to have Mirani protectorate status revoked, and they were granted this. We were not defeated as military. We were defeated with bureaucracy. Which brings us to the end of the two-day war.

  "From that situation a year ago, we now have this smuggling charge, which becomes less credible the more you look at it. The Barresh council banned the import of menisha, our most important export to them—"

  "We don't deal with dried menisha," Rehan said. "The entire charge is rubbish."

  "—The charge is brought in the Trader Court, which freezes the accused's business until innocence has been proven. Someone clearly knew this, or they would have brought the case to the local court, which would have made more sense, legally, but would have allowed the Andrahar Traders to continue operating."

  There was more muttering at this. Some suggested it was the doing of vengeful people in Barresh, others said it was the Coldi. Still others said that the Mirani council should come clear on the people smuggling allegations, to which others replied that is was a separate issue and that the council would help Traders, not drag them before court.

  Antho Tussamar waved everyone into silence. "In my position as head of the Miran chapter of the Guild, I need to be assured that none of our members are treated unfairly by outside influences. I have requested, from the Barresh Exchange and the Miran Exchange, relevant documents of all the deals between the Andrahar Traders and Barresh. I will go through this information and assist the Andrahar Traders with preparing their defence."

  Rehan said, "Thank you, Antho." But his face was hard. "I assure you that we are fine for the time being. We appreciate your support, but we can manage." An oh-so-chilly rebuke. "We are engaging our own channels to prove our innocence."

  Antho Tussamar asked, "Any word from Iztho about what he's got to say for himself?"

  Rehan gave him a sharp look. "Are you suggesting that you believe he's guilty?"

  Antho Tussamar managed to look genuinely surprised. "Of course I'm not. Whatever makes you think so?"

  Rehan said nothing, but there was a decided watch your mouth expression on his face.

  The atmosphere turned decidedly cool.

  A few men made for the door, talking about work they had to do.

  Antho Tussamar said, "Are we done with this meeting?"

  Aithno Ilendar exchanged an exasperated look with Rehan that said Nothing has been decided!

  Rehan shrugged and met Mikandra's eyes. All the time he'd been inside he had never taken off his cloak, probably to disguise the fact that he wore no medallion, and drops of sweat pearled on this forehead and upper lip.

  "We are not done at all, Antho," Aithno in a low voice. "Not as long as you are a mouthpiece of that idiot on the High Council."

  Antho Tussamar glared back. "It is the only way forward and you know it. The only way to stop Miran sliding into oblivion." He packed up his papers and strode out of the room.

  Other men also streamed out the door, talking.

  Rehan came to stand next to her. "Surprising to see you here."

  "What'd you think, that I'd run home crying? I'm not that kind of girl."

  "So I see."

  "You don't see. Most of you are born into Trading families, but I chose to apply because that's what I want. I'm determined to make this work. I will fight if necessary."

  All around them, men were talking and making their way out the door.

  She asked, "Do you know of any other court cases in preparation against you?"

  He frowned.

  "Thaeron Tussamar told me there were three other cases being prepared."

  The worried frown deepened. "Up until today. I would have said bullshit, but I don't know anymore. It could be bluff. It could not. Coming from a Tussamar, it probably is bullshit, but nothing is certain anymore." It was the first time she had heard him sound anything other than unemotional or angry. He looked tired.

  "Before I forget, when you get your monthly bill from the Guild, there will be a charge for a meal and a courier to pick up my things from my house and an overnight stay here. I'm sorry about that, but they wouldn't let me pay and they said it had to be charged. I can give you the money—"

  "Forget about it."

  "Knowing that you need the money, I can't just forget it. It doesn't feel right."

  "Seriously, I tell you the fuck not to worry about it. Don't. Worry. About. It."

  "Sheesh. You don't make it easy for someone to help you, or even like you. Do you always run around like this, abusing everyone who's trying to be friendly?"

  He glared at her and she glared back. She was highly tempted to say I know what's wrong with you, Rehan Andrahar, but the expression in his eyes disturbed her. It wasn't anger or hatred she saw there. It was torment, and fear. He put on a brave face to the outside world, but inside, he was all cut up.

  She let a silence pass and said in a lower voice, "I'm leaving M
iran tomorrow morning. I'm going after Iztho. I think I know where he is."

  He nodded, and it was the first time in ages that someone didn't try to talk her out of anything she'd decided to do. She decided he probably was concerned for his brother's safety, but was too proud to admit it, or had been taught from birth that his first concern should always be the business. Or something.

  He dug in his pocket. He produced a marker of the type merchants used in warehouses. "You have anything to write on?"

  "Sorry, no. Write on my hand."

  He grasped her wrist and held it steady while he wrote numbers on the palm of her hand. The tip of the marker tickled. His skin was clammy. "It's our account code at the Exchange. For communication." A waft of sweaty air drifted past.

  She nodded, business-like, trying to ignore her unease at being so close to him. At the other side of the room, she spotted Lihan looking at her.

  Rehan let her arm go. "Good luck." And then after a small pause. "Keep safe."

  Then he was gone, leaving her confused. Did he actually want her to go away or did he care what happened to her?

  Mikandra turned to go back to her room with the intention of trying out the bathroom and the fold-out bed in the cupboard, but a female voice said, "Mikandra, wait."

  Aunt Amandra. She followed Mikandra into the room.

  Her eyes burned with the intensity of fire. "What were you thinking? Your parents are beside themselves with worry."

  "My father kicked me out and told me not to come back. He told me that if I accepted the place, I would be disinherited and I would never be welcome at home. So I don't intend to go back there. I've sent a courier and told them that."

  Aunt Amandra's shoulders sagged. The anger seeped from her. She shook her head. "Asitho really knows how to make enemies of people, especially recalcitrant girls." She sighed. "Your parents need you."

  "No, they don't." Although Mother would, and she felt sorry for Liseyo.

  "Go home. I'll come with you. Asitho needs someone to talk to him sternly."

  Mikandra shook her head. "It's not going to make any difference. Fine, he might agree to let me go to the academy, until he finds something else that he thinks I shouldn't do. I made my decision. I want to stay here."

  Aunt Amandra sighed. She looked at Mikandra's hands, and specifically the code that Rehan had written on her palm.

  "It would really be better if you went home. I would be much happier knowing you are safe. The future is going to be rough for Miran and especially the Andrahars."

  "Oh, is this about the three extra court cases that are coming up? I thought court information was confidential."

  Aunt Amandra frowned. "Court cases? What do you mean?"

  "Well, earlier today, Thaeron Tussamar said to me—"

  Aunt Amandra put her finger on her lips. She rose, shut the door and went back to her seat.

  She prompted, "Thaeron Tussamar said?"

  "He said that there were three extra court cases being prepared against the Andrahar brothers. I asked how he knew and he said his uncle told him. He must have told a lot of people."

  "What? Court cases are confidential."

  "So confidential that Nemedor Satarin knows the details?"

  Her eyebrows deepened. "What are you talking about?"

  "Nemedor Satarin came to the Andrahar house, offering them a loan because he knew of the court case and suspension." To be honest, he hadn't mentioned the court case or charge in so many words. "He said that the council had agreed to offer a loan for up to two hundred and fifty thousand credits."

  Aunt Amandra's eyes had gone wide. "Bail out someone from the Trader Guild with council money? Certainly not. That's not even legal." She looked out the window, her expression concerned. "The only offer he could have made would be out of his private money, and that's a lot of money, and I very much doubt that he has that much."

  "He left behind a card. That's what it said."

  Aunt Amandra met Mikandra's eyes. Her expression was intense. "You're sure it was Nemedor Satarin?"

  "I was there. He sat next to me at the table."

  "Next to you," she repeated.

  "Yes."

  Aunt Amandra shook her head and her expression went hard. "You're right. Not much point going back to your family. You're already in too deep. You should go to Kedras as soon as possible."

  "I'm leaving tomorrow."

  "No, you should leave now. I'll go and check the bookings."

  "I checked. The flights are all full." Wait, what was this about?

  "I'll use my priority code."

  Mikandra filled with panic. She wanted to go to Barresh, not Kedras. "Please, I'm fine."

  "Have you told anyone about this flight?"

  "No."

  Aunt Amandra breathed out a sigh. "Then you might be fine. But promise me: please don't leave this building until that time."

  "Are things that bad?"

  "They may be. I wouldn't take anything for granted. You are the daughter of someone the conservatives thought they could trust. You signed with one of their most vocal opponents. If nothing else, they will be nervous and will be watching you." She looked tired. "I really didn't need any more to worry about besides this ridiculous law."

  Mikandra was going to say that she was sorry, but realised that she was not. She had seen what the boycott did to the hospital and couldn't understand why anyone thought that was a good thing. "What exactly is going on in the council? What law?"

  "There is a big power struggle going on. A section of the council has proposed a law limiting foreigners settling in Miran. This includes revoking residency rights for non-Mirani spouses. A lot of people, but especially the Traders and merchant class, are very angry about this. The vote is not due for a few weeks yet, but the issue threatens to split the council, because it goes to the heart of the deeper relationship between Miran and gamra. The import laws, the boycott. I'm guessing the flights are busy because many merchants are leaving, taking their import-dependent businesses and foreign-born wives to safety."

  Mikandra nodded. This confirmed her suspicion.

  She toyed with the idea of asking where her aunt stood in this debate, but was afraid of hearing the answer. "Would this law apply to everyone, even Guild couriers and foreign Traders?" Like Ydana Ezmi.

  Aunt Amandra nodded, and sighed. "And before you ask, Ydana walked out on me when I announced that I would stand for election. I haven't seen him since. Will probably never see him again." Her voice sounded more angry than Mikandra had ever heard it.

  "He left you just because of the election?"

  "Oh, it wasn't just that, but that I live in this 'rotten place' as he calls it, where foreigners get shunned, called names and murdered on the streets." She was talking about the courier. So the news had already reached the Guild headquarters. "I've lost count of the number of times he's asked me to come to Hedron."

  "Change colours?" Mikandra tried to imagine her aunt in the lilac and purple uniform of the Hedron Traders, and could not.

  She nodded. "But maybe I'm just too damn stubborn for him, but I believe in Miran. I so badly want the council to see sense. With the Foundation treaty, we have something beautiful that has worked for a long time and should continue to work. We can't let it be ruined by some ill-informed people. We've got to keep our vision of Miran alive, and running away is not the answer to these proposed laws."

  "I'm not running away."

  "No, I know you're not. You're just playing with explosives." One corner of her mouth went up. "Pretty much like me."

  Mikandra asked, "Do you think Rehan Andrahar is explosive? Do you think he . . . has a problem?"

  Aunt Amandra frowned. Then she shook her head. "All right, here's my quick and dirty assessment of the family. Iztho Andrahar is . . . well I could probably have predicted years ago that something was going to happen, but no one would have believed me. But, once you've heard him sing, you know to the tips of your toes and fingers that there is no way that man i
s ever going to be happy as a Trader. When his father got stuck into him about playing music in the Guild bar at Kedras, something broke in him. Taerzo is spoilt rotten, doesn't take life seriously enough and could probably use a lesson in hardship. He's a good sort, but needs to grow up. Braedon is very gentle, probably a bit too gentle for his own good, but he'll do well enough. Talk to him about medicines and he's happy. Rehan . . . is quite something. I have hardly seen anyone more driven, focused and hard-faced. Do something against him and he'll come down on you like a rock fall. Win his trust . . ." She met Mikandra's eyes. "And you could end up somewhere amazing. But winning his trust is the hard part."

  "Does he trust you?"

  "Not in the slightest. I'm too close to his enemies."

  "He's not affected by madness?"

  "Whatever makes you think that?"

  "I don't know. He's just . . . strange." Then she added, "Something about him reminds me of the mad people I treated at the hospital."

  Aunt Amandra fingered her upper lip. "Jihan's sister Dithiandra is as crazy as they come. She hardly ever leaves the house these days, and I don't remember a time I've seen her that she hasn't been talking complete nonsense. It seems to be quite strong in the family. Hmm, Rehan could be affected, but only a bit."

  Mikandra's heart thudded. She'd been right about Rehan.

  "But whatever affects him, do know that last year, Rehan Andrahar was the Trader with the greatest turnover in the Guild."

  "I can imagine, if he's up against people like Antho Tussamar."

  "No, Mikandra. He's the top of the entire Guild, not just Miran. Whatever you do, do not, ever under-estimate Rehan Andrahar."

  * * *

  After her aunt had left, Mikandra took her apprentice uniform out of her bag and went into the bathroom, or better said, the bathhouse. When she opened the door at the end of the corridor, she stepped into humid air. There were several connected rooms, each with a steaming pool. In the closest, largest pool sat two men she had seen at the meeting.