“What? You mean sorcerers?” Hanse’s eyes were large.
“Aye. It has always been so, here. It is just the way things are, you see. It isn’t as if we live under any shadow or anything. All the mages of Firaqa help the citizenry.”
‘Protected’ means ‘dominated,’ Hanse thought. “Ah, gods!
All the time, Gaise? These protecting sorcerers are always helpful?”
“Well, no, Hanse. I mean, the law is for us, but obviously right now it isn’t helping that melon-peddling farmer any. If you and I developed a real feud, I mean really bad blood, then…but that’s no good as example. We of the Watch are prohibited from personally seeking the services of a mage, and we swear not to. Every civil servant does, including each Council member. Suppose you really did Khulna a wrong, left here still owing money, maybe, and for some reason the law could not help him. If Khulna obtained the services of a mage and paid his price, obviously the result would not be to your liking. It couldn’t be said to help you, then. You might of course go to another mage for a counter-spell, or something severe enough that Khulna would agree to have his advocate’s spell lifted.”
“Advocate?” Mignureal asked.
“When you are a mage’s client, he is your advocate.”
“Ah gods,” Hanse muttered. “What I hear is chaos, all designed to keep the mages employed and probably wealthy!”
“Oh, wait now, nothing of the sort! A civilized society of law needs its spellmasters!” Gaise said, showing affront. “They generally do well, true. But it’s without them that we’d have chaos!”
“Suppose Hanse went to Khulna’s ‘advocate’ and offered him more to take off the spell, or do something to Khulna? Or both?”
“Oh, never!” Gaise assured her. “That would be unethical! The mages have their ethical code, after all, and they too are bound by the law. Khulna’s advocate simply would not do that. Furthermore, he’s bound by the mages’ own code to report your attempt to subvert him. They have their own organization or guild. All practicing mages in Firaqa are members.”
Probably call it the Parasite Guild, Hanse thought darkly. The sorcerers are feeding on this society and Gaise is too dumb to realize it. I guess everyone is. They just accept it.
“When the mages bring up a member before the Ethics Committee of their own FSA, we stand aside. If he is found guilty of ethical misconduct unto criminal act, then the law acts. If he is merely reprimanded for a lapse in ethics or a questionable act, we do nothing. If it happens again, of course, he’s in a lot of trouble.”
“FSA,” Hanse repeated. “Firaqi Sorcerers’ Association?”
“Spellmasters’ Alliance,” Gaise corrected.
“Uh-huh. Well, in essence this FSA tells the law what to do, then!”
“That is not the case,” Gaise said, with emphasis. “In the matter of the runaway horse and wagon that killed that fellow Lallias, for instance, no one considered consulting the FSA.” He chuckled at the concept.
“Suppose the farmer was ensorceled,” Mignureal said. “Or his horse was.”
“Ah, but that was not the case. A child was seen to strike the horse. And no mage has come forward, anyhow. They do, in such situations. If there’s any suspicion of ensorcelment and no mage has come forward, the magistrate defers judgment until the FSA can be contacted. That’s one of the purposes of the Council and the Chief Mage.”
“Uh, does Chief Mage mean that, Gaise, or Chief Magistrate?”
Gaise said, “Yes. That is — ”
“Is he always a mage?” Mignureal asked, frowning and fingering her medallion.
“No. Sometimes he is, sometimes not. In olden times, he was. Over the years, the mages have backed away a bit. Not that they are not supreme in the city, but the Chief Mage no longer has to be an FSA member. That was so even before I was born. You see, long ago the mages here drove off the foreign Wizards. They were the Nisi — something. That’s only memory, now. But before the mages and the FSA, Firaqa was a wizard-dominated hell.”
“And now it’s a mage-dominated…heaven?” Hanse said.
“Our present Chief Mage is not a spellmaster — and I have to go.”
“I wish you didn’t have to,” Mignureal said. “There’s an awful lot we don’t know!”
“Well, you two nice honest people don’t have anything to worry about, surely!” Sergeant Gaise said jovially, and departed.
Hanse and Mignureal sat and stared at the door, and then at each other.
“Sorcery,” Hanse muttered.
Since she had seen no real wickedness in this town and did not share his extreme aversion to magic and magicking anyhow, that was not nearly so disturbing to Mignureal as the injustice of a farmer’s languishing in prison because he hadn’t the price of a fine for something beyond his control. True, she had heard a number of anomalies unto contradictions, along with unexplained details. But wasn’t that always the way of it with government and the law, anyhow?
“It may not be a heaven, but all we’ve seen here is a peaceful city full of nice people, darling,” she said. “The system must work, and the law does. All I’ve heard that is bad is that poor farmer. But that’s the civil law, nothing to do with the mages. Consider the awful situation we left behind, in Sanctuary!”
Hanse just looked at her. After a time he said, “What’s strange is that no one we’ve talked to has even mentioned sorcery or sorcerers. Or mages or ‘spellmasters,’ either.”
“Because they just accept it, Hanse. It’s the way life is, and the government is, in Firaqa,” she said, with a little shrug.
Hanse did not share her insouciance; indeed, he didn’t share anyone’s mere acceptance of much of anything. He had thought of something that might affect hers, however, and he hit her with it:
“Aye, well you might consider why in a town protected by mages, there are so few S’danzo and the ones we have met are forbidden to use the old language!”
*
On legs with the bulgily overdeveloped calves his weight made necessary, Tethras walked Hanse out of the bazaar and into a nice inn, where he doffed his handsome feathered hat and ordered a custard cup for each of them. It was a new dish to Hanse, and he liked it. Too bad Mignureal had elected to remain at the Green Goose. He had wondered why she hadn’t wanted even to come along to visit with the S’danzo in the bazaar, but she had said she intended to later, and he hadn’t cared to question her much.
Quietly, at their comer table, Tethras advised that Corstic,
Tethras and Associates would pay a total of 86 Firaqi silver hearthers for Hanse’s 70 Imperials. That was over eleven coppers difference or “bounty” for each silver piece of Rankan coinage. Further, Tethras pointed out that Hanse was receiving something called “interest” of two percent from Perias. Corstic, Tethras and Associates would pay him two and a quarter. That translated into an additional six coppers a year, on the 46 hearthers Hanse had specified.
“I paid five for this hat you’ve been admiring,” Tethras said, translating the offer into terms even more real.
Hanse held his chin down so that the Changer could not see him swallow. Happy day, several years agone, when he had stolen the governor’s wand and ransomed it back! How lovely it was to be treated as a man of property whose business was sought after!
Tethras was not finished. If Hanse would agree to leave at least one-half of his payment for the Imperials with Tethras’ establishment for a full year, all figures changed. That brought Hanse’s head up.
“We would like to have the Imperials, which contain more silver than ours,” the Changer explained. “If we do not have to part with the full amount at once, however, we will pay you for the privilege. We should not care to buy the Imperials from you and see you leave us to deposit the money with Perias and Associates! You have to bank with someone, after all. Therefore, we would offer a full hearther-plus-twelve for each of your coins, and pay you interest at the rate of two and one half percent for the year. Name a total amount and I shall sho
w you what that will gain you, within a year.”
Hanse named one, and then another, and the profits were just beautiful.
The man of property made agreement with Tethras, who was not averse to Hanse’s request that they go and see Blomis the Public Recorder. Tethras took up his dark-blue hat turned up behind and on one side, and they did that. Blomis was very impressed indeed. Tethras also agreed to walk with Hanse to Perias’ establishment, but of course would wait several doors away. Perias was understandably reluctant and then affronted, or acted so. Hanse remained adamant, and left with his Firaqi silver. Tethras was indeed waiting, standing comfortably on those huge-calved legs of his and looking almost romantic, Hanse thought, under that handsome hat.
“Tethras,” the man of property said thoughtfully, “you are going to pay me two and a half percent. What if I were borrowing money from you?”
“The interest rate per year would be fifteen percent,” Tethras said matter-of-factly.
“Ah,” Hanse said. He did not admit that for the first time in his life he understood how bankers made money. It did seem to him that they could pay a bit more…
“And now,” Tethras said, “as to the Imperials?” He chuckled. “The sooner they are in my possession, my friend, the sooner you begin earning interest!”
“Hmmm. Let us see if Mignureal is in the bazaar. Where would I buy one of those hats?”
*
Mignureal was inside, with Turquoise while the latter Saw for a client. Hanse waited impatiently, while a wriggly Zrena admired his new hat. So did Yashuar, in the adjacent stall. Then so did Mignureal and Turquoise, as they emerged from the private chamber reserved for Turquoise’s work. Hanse drew Mignue aside and asked whether she was still “wearing” her portion of their fortune.
She looked odd, he thought, but nodded. “Of course! Why do you ask?”
“Yesterday I did business with a Changer, but this one today made me change my mind. We are converting our Imperials to hearthers at a fine profit, Mignue, and they’ll be earning more money for us as well! We can look at the details together later; I want to! Meanwhile we can relieve ourselves of this burden and let our money start earning more for us.”
“That sounds wonderful, darling! But Hanse…here, in public?”
He shook his head and moved back to the S’danzo stall to ask a favour of Turquoise. Soon he and Mignureal were in the dwelling behind the stall, divesting themselves of their fortune and amusing themselves at the same time by plucking coins out of each other’s underclothing. Hanse did not mention the several Imperials he was retaining, because he was Hanse. He counted seventy handsome clinking likenesses of Ranke’s
Emperor into a glazed pottery bowl, carefully set its cerulean lid into place, and bore it out with them. Amazing, how much it meant and yet how un-heavy it was.
“I feel just pounds lighter!” Mignureal said, almost giddily. Hanse’s mood of excitement and joy was a communicable state.
“So do I,” he said, grinning. “Thank the All-father you don’t look any lighter in the chest! Oh, Turquoise: we’re only borrowing this bowl for a few minutes, that’s all. Be right back with it.”
This time it was Mignureal who read aloud the newest document, while Tethras and Hanse beamed at each other. Tethras’ large and well-armed bodyguard, who had as the Changer put it “minded the store” in his absence, remained impassive. Probably used to the jingle of lots of coins, Hanse supposed. He and Mignureal returned the bowl, told Turquoise and Zrena they had business and must hurry, and departed the open market practically at the run. This time they learned from Blomis that for copying and storing documents the City imposed a charge. Hanse happily paid. Now he had all the originals, each bearing Blomis’ PR seal, and Blomis had the copies in his Public Records.
Trying not to skip and at that running a little, Mignureal and Hanse went straight back to the Green Goose and to bed.
*
Hanse had explained their dealings and their fortune, with figures. They were visiting with the cats and talking of going down to dinner when the notion struck him, for no particular reason: he opened that accursed saddlebag. Once more he upended it over the rumpled bed. Mignureal’s stomach knotted when she saw all the colour go out of his face as he stared at the bag’s shining yield.
“Six! O god O Father Ils, what’s happened! Three coins have vanished, just today!”
Quite naked in the act of dressing, Mignureal bit her lips as she met his stricken stare. “Hanse, uh…I — ”
“What! You what? Tell me!” His anguish threatened to become fury.
“I couldn’t stand the thought of that poor farmer in prison with the gods know what befalling his family, Hanse. That’s why I stayed behind this morning. I — I came back up here and took three of those coins. My paying his fine didn’t restore his horse, but at least he — ”
Hanse was laughing. “Good! Good! Let the city of Firaqa worry about those horrible coins!” He whacked his hands loudly together. “Good, Mignue, good!”
His jubilance relieved her nervousness. She had feared his reaction but had just had to do it. They had so much, and that poor man…! As for why she had taken three of those coins, rather than delving into her underwear; well, she had a reason. The man’s imprisonment was unjust, and so the city was undeserving of such cruelly gained money. She did not tell Hanse why she had chosen to use three pieces of ensorceled silver…
Her surmise had been right, too. In the morning Hanse was more pleased with the fine trick she had played on the city than horrified by the fact that the saddlebag once again contained nine Imperials.
*
Next day they looked at apartments. Late that afternoon they found the wonderful place near the bazaar. A good-sized room nicely carpeted, adequately furnished and without peeling plaster; a small kitchen area with cabinet and a little stove; a nice enough bedroom with bed, a standing press, and two storage lockers. Best of all, running water! They liked the fact that the place was on the second floor, with one window overlooking Cochineal Street and the other an alley. Both were closed with real glass! Pets were fine here, “so long as there’s no mess, mind, and no loud noises, now; everyone else here is older folk!”
Hanse persuaded Mignureal to put off committing themselves until next day. Hours later, despite her expostulations, he went out their window in the Green Goose, in his working clothes. Not long afterward he slipped silently into the apartment on Cochineal by way of the alley window, and lay down on the bed. Since he awoke after sunrise, he assumed that no untoward noises attended this place and the neighbours. Furthermore, absence of bite or itch proved that the only live creature on the bed had been he. Swiftly he changed into the green tunic, rolled up the black garments, and eased out the window.
He entered the Green Goose in the normal way, surprising Khulna and his family. Went out for a walk early, he told them, and soon he and Mignureal were excitedly breakfasting.
That day they took the apartment on Cochineal and paid a month’s rent. However unnatural, their two cats were cats, and were not happy about moving and having to break in new territory. They stiffly paced their new home for hours, sniffing everywhere, shying at any noise or movement, and in general manifesting their discomfort. After a couple of hours, Mignureal stayed with them while Hanse went back to the Green Goose.
Khulna unhappily tendered a number of copper coins as refund for unused room and uneaten meals. He said he hated to lose such nice kids even more than the money. Hanse shocked him by pushing back most of the sparks.
“You’re a good man, Khulna; you’re good people. We’ll come back now and then to eat and to visit. You be sure to let me know when we’ve eaten up that money.”
Then he had to submit to Chondey’s embrace. He returned to the apartment to “relieve” Mignureal in staying with still-nervous cats. Mignureal had been cleaning with compulsive diligence. Now she returned to the inn, to clean up their former room. Chondey and Khulna survived the shock. So did Rainbow and
Notable.
They discovered what fun it was to sit in the window and watch passersby on the street just below, and to snooze there in the afternoon sun. The window’s sill became theirs. After a few days Hanse and Mignureal contrived to extend it into a broader shelf. The cats felt obliged to go stiff and slinky again, sniffing the addition and playing Oh You Insensitive Humans Have Spoiled Everything. Then Notable decided to try it anyhow, and soon he and the calico were appreciating the additional space at the window.
Hanse was happily surprised by the cooking of both Mignureal and the old couple along the hall, who tried to adopt them. The cats thrived on the cooking of both. A new disagreement stemmed from Mignureal’s forgetting the time on their fourth day here; she stayed until sundown with her fellow S’danzo. Worse, this was the same day on which he had bought her a nice tunic, in the yellow so popular in Firaqa. Her coming in so late spoiled the surprise, and his mood. The argument went a bit far and sent Hanse angrily out, on that fourth evening, to walk alone with his anger.
Hours later they made it up as usual and once again rumpled the bed. Hanse was both happy and proud that he had turned down a clear-cut invitation at the western edge of the bazaar. The shapely flirt was part of a caravan, passing through, and had probably only thought it would be an adventure to card a little wool with a town boy, anyhow.
Two days later Mignureal announced, with care and after they had eaten a good meal she had prepared, that she was joining Turquoise; going to work. She produced a copper from her sash and held it up for Hanse’s inspection. Yesterday afternoon, she explained, Turquoise had been Seeing for a suvesh, faking it as usual, while Mignureal sat silently by as if she were an apprentice. Abruptly she had started to speak, disrupting everything. Except that she was Seeing for the client, clearly. In short order her words proved absolutely true: the client found her lost brooch in exactly the unlikely place Mignureal had said. She returned to add another copper to her payment, and to advise Turquoise that she’d be telling just everybody about her and her wonderful apprentice. It was that coin which Mignureal now held up so proudly before her man.
Shadowspawn (Thieves' World Book 4) Page 20