Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic Book 12)

by Christopher Nuttall

  She shook her head. “And if the estate wants the money back immediately, they could take Vesperian to court.”

  “Which would cause him a great deal of trouble,” Emily noted. “Even if he had to just pay back the original loan, without interest, he’d still have to find the money.”

  “Unless he had just enough to pay back the original loan,” Caleb offered. “The estate managers might be glad just to get that back.”

  “It would still be risky,” Emily countered. “The managers might be prepared to wait long enough for the notes to mature.”

  She sighed. “The whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen. I think you should be glad we don’t have any money invested in the scheme.”

  “I am,” Sienna said. Her lips thinned. “And we will not be investing any money either.”

  “You’re assuming that Vesperian is killing his own investors,” General Pollack rumbled. He looked oddly amused. “And you’re also assuming that no one else has noticed the pattern.”

  “It is obvious,” Sienna pointed out.

  Her husband smiled. “I’ll give you an alternate explanation. Someone else wants Vesperian to fail. They’re killing his investors to cause problems for him.”

  “They’d just have to wait for the scheme to collapse under its own weight,” Emily said, after a moment. “Why risk exposure when all they have to do is sit tight and wait?”

  “If it fails,” Karan pointed out, crossly. “What happens if it succeeds?”

  “It will be a long time before it makes any profits,” Emily said. “There will be no return on the investment.”

  “You don’t know that,” Karan snapped.

  “Karan,” her mother said.

  Emily took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Vesperian is trying to build two extensions to the railway,” she said. “One runs to Swanhaven, the other to the Iron Hills. Getting the track as far as Swanhaven City will probably not pose any political problems, as the current baron is supporting the project, but the engineers will still have to bridge a number of rivers, dig tunnels and install everything from signals to stations. It took nearly a year to build the original track, which runs through smoother terrain. This one will take longer, even if there are no other problems.

  “The second track will have political problems,” she added. She had no doubt of it. She’d dealt with too many noblemen who had nothing, but a name. “There are upwards of a thousand noblemen who will have to be consulted, then flattered and bribed into staying out of the way. And the terrain south of Cockatrice is even worse for railway lines. I’d be astonished if the original line could be completed in less than five years, assuming that all the political problems just…go away. Vesperian has bitten off more than he can chew.”

  Karan cleared her throat. “But…”

  “It will take time, also, to develop a market for the railway,” Emily added. “Merely expanding the mines would be difficult, too. I would be very surprised if the railway becomes profitable in less than a decade.”

  There was a long silence. Karan looked shocked, as if she didn’t want to believe what Emily was saying; Sienna’s face was expressionless, while Caleb looked as if he was trying to hide his amusement. General Pollack and Croce didn’t seem inclined to argue. And Marian…Marian was looking contemplative.

  “There are elderly couples who have invested,” Sienna said, quietly. “They won’t have a hope of starting again.”

  Emily nodded. Sienna was right.

  And when the music stops, Emily thought, chaos will follow.

  She ate her food quickly, silently hoping she was wrong. But she doubted it. She’d seen the plans when Paren and his artisans had designed the first steam engine. It would be a long time, they’d said, before the country was criss-crossed in railway lines…and that was with King Randor backing the project. Here…Vesperian might put a good face on his jagged railway line, but Emily knew it was an admission that politics weren’t proving as simple as he’d hoped. It was possible, she supposed, that there would be a major breakthrough…

  “I’ll speak to some of my friends,” General Pollack said. “Sienna, you could speak to the sorcerers…”

  “I don’t know what they’d be able to do.” Sienna’s lips twitched. “We can’t magic Vesperian out of existence.”

  “And if we did,” General Pollack said, “we’d only make matters worse.”

  Caleb glanced at Emily. “Is there no hope?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily admitted. There had been boom and bust cycles on Earth, but she couldn’t recall any of them being stopped in their tracks. Bailing out the banks might have staunched the bleeding, if one took an optimistic view, yet it hadn’t fixed the underlying problems. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, Emily,” Markus said, as Emily and Frieda were shown into his office. “I’m glad to see you’ve regrown your hair.”

  Emily shrugged. “It was a mess.” The potion had made her scalp itch uncomfortably for hours, but it had worked. Her hair was now as long as it had been before she’d gone to war. “You remember Frieda, of course.”

  “Of course.” Markus took Frieda’s hand and kissed it. Frieda’s eyes widened in shock. Emily wasn’t so sure he actually remembered Frieda – she’d been a common-born magician at Mountaintop, well below his notice – but Emily gave him points for trying. “You are more than welcome in this place.”

  “Thank you,” Frieda said. “This is a fascinating place.”

  “I’m impressed you managed to say that with a straight face,” Markus said. “I keep losing junior employees to the railway.”

  He called for food and drink, then motioned for them to take the sofa. “I’m glad you decided to visit,” he said, as he sat down. “I need to ask you a question.”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Not you, too?”

  Markus looked perplexed, just for a second. “I’ve heard a rumor that says you invested thirty thousand crowns in Vesperian’s Track,” he said. “Is that true?”

  “No,” Emily said, sharply. Thirty thousand crowns was enough money to outfit an army, perhaps even to run a small kingdom. “He asked me to invest, and I declined.”

  “I thought as much,” Markus said. Emily hid her irritation. Markus was well placed to know the rumor had no basis in fact. He was her banker. And yet, he’d been worried. “How much did he ask for?”

  “Ten thousand crowns.” Emily took a breath. “He invited me to visit him just after last we met.”

  She ran her hand through her hair. “Markus…all hell is about to break loose.”

  “The railway,” Markus said, flatly.

  Emily nodded. “He wouldn’t let me see the books. But I can’t see how he can repay his investors. The notes are due in a couple of days, unless he manages to roll them over somehow. But there’s too much money involved for that to be easy. He needs a fresh set of investors, and I don’t think he’s going to get them.”

  “That was my thought too.” Markus looked grim. “Do you know how many of my customers have invested money in the railway?”

  “No,” Emily said.

  “A lot,” Markus said. “I think some of my board have invested money, despite my objections. They’re not going to give it up without a fight.”

  Emily nodded in agreement. Frieda and she had wandered the streets for the last couple of days, eating in small cafes and chatting with strangers. She hadn’t truly realized how many people had bought notes until they’d talked to a string of investors in a row, each extolling the blessings the railway would bring to the city. They’d all sounded like cultists, from the young girls who’d invested their pocket money to the cooks who thanked Vesperian for their new customers. A couple had even tried to convince her to invest.

  Others, they’d discovered, hadn’t been so happy. Vesperian seemed to be buying up resources, from every scrap of iron he could find to bronze, copper, timber and dozens of chemicals.
It was a boom time for suppliers, but everyone else was being frozen out of the market. Fishermen couldn’t get items they desperately needed for their boats; bridge repairmen couldn’t keep up with wear and tear on the giant structures…she was sure that, sooner or later, something would go badly wrong. There were even people muttering about damned foreigners entering their city in search of work.

  “You need a contingency plan for when the notes come due,” Emily said. “Do you have any ideas at all?”

  Markus sighed. “I don’t think the bank itself is going to be directly affected,” he said. “We didn’t invest in the railway ourselves. But if there is a sudden demand for ready cash, we’re going to be in some trouble.”

  Emily made a face. In some ways, the concept of the bank being crammed with gold and silver coins was a polite fiction. Much of the money placed into the bank existed only as notes in a ledger, a promise to repay based on the theory that the bank would never have to repay all the loans at once. Markus might be able to meet some demand, even though it would mean cutting into his seed money. He wouldn’t be able to repay all of his customers at the same time.

  She gritted her teeth. The Bank of Silence wasn’t the flashiest innovation she’d introduced, but it might well do more good than anything else in the long term. Merely giving people a safe place to store their money made life better, while microloans ensured that innovators had the backing they needed to turn their ideas into reality. The thought of it crashing down in ruins, through someone else’s financial mismanagement, was appalling. And yet, if hundreds of customers demanded their money back, how could anyone say no?

  “This could break the bank,” she breathed.

  “It’s a possibility.” Markus looked down at the wooden floor. “I’m very glad that Melissa is safely in Whitehall.”

  Emily swallowed. “She might be safe.” She was on better terms with Melissa these days, but she still didn’t like her very much. “But what about you?”

  “I don’t know,” Markus said. “Emily, this could destroy your fortune as well.”

  “I know,” Emily said. “And I have no way to move the money out before it’s too late.”

  She cursed under her breath. In hindsight, she might just have outsmarted herself. She’d put half of her fortune into the Bank of Silence, both to give Markus some seed money and to keep it safe from King Randor’s grasping hands. But now…she couldn’t even move it back to Cockatrice! The mere hint that someone was moving their money out of the bank might start everything rolling downhill to disaster…

  …And she had no way to guess at just how big the disaster was likely to be!

  “You could buy up the notes,” Markus said. “That might limit the scale of the crash.”

  Emily shook her head. There were just too many notes. Even if she bought them at their original value, she’d still run out of money fairly quickly. And the bank would have the same problem. Perhaps, if all Vesperian needed was ten thousand crowns, something could be done. But if he needed more…

  He wouldn’t have asked for so much if he wasn’t desperate, she thought, grimly. And perhaps he has good reason to be desperate.

  “The investors would want full price,” she said. “They wouldn’t take less than that until it was too late.”

  “And the notes become worthless paper,” Markus said.

  He rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to call an emergency meeting of the Bankers Guild. If we discuss the matter in a body, we can approach Vesperian and demand he shows us the books. I’ve got accountants who can go through every last scrap of paper and pull together a complete picture of his affairs.”

  Frieda leaned forward. “And what if he refuses to cooperate?”

  “We can advise people not to buy any further notes,” Markus said. “Beyond that…there isn’t much we can do.”

  There’s no financial authority to regulate transactions, Emily thought, numbly. And no international police force to track Vesperian down if he grabs everything he can carry and runs.

  “You could always put in a demand for repayment,” Emily pointed out. “Couldn’t you threaten to seize the railway?”

  “The Guild Council would have to approve it,” Markus said. “And Vesperian has a lot of allies amongst the guildsmen.”

  “They bought his notes,” Frieda said.

  “And he’s been creating jobs,” Markus added. “The Ironworkers Guild loves him. So do most of the Woodworkers. The guildmasters would hesitate to take firm steps against him until the disaster was obvious.”

  “And then it would be too late,” Emily said.

  She frowned, thinking hard. Vesperian had definitely overreached himself. That much was certain. But…had someone else backed him? Had someone offered to pick up the tab, then defaulted. Who would benefit? King Randor was the most likely suspect, but the economic shockwaves would wash over Zangaria too. Alassa’s father had grown increasingly paranoid over the last couple of years, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d know better…wouldn’t he?

  Or was she over-thinking it? It wasn’t as if any outside player was necessary. Vesperian might have created the disaster without any outside help at all. And then…

  She met Markus’s eyes. “Who’s the richest person in the city?”

  Markus smiled. “The richest person that I know about is you.”

  Frieda giggled.

  “If one believes rumors,” Markus continued, “Vesperian and Grand Guildmaster Jalil are worth thousands of crowns apiece. Below them, there’s a boatload of other wealthy men…why?”

  Emily looked down at her hands. “If I was feeling cunning,” she said, “I’d wait until the crash came, then buy up everything Vesperian has for a song. The railway and its rolling stock would be mine. I’d cut back on the planned expansion and concentrate on milking everything I could out of the existing infrastructure.”

  “And possibly do more expansion later,” Markus said. “Once you had everything on solid ground again.”

  He made a face. “Do you think someone is waiting to do just that?”

  Emily shrugged. “We can’t be the only ones who see impending trouble,” she mused. “And who knows what Vesperian will do, if he is truly desperate.”

  “It could take years to unravel the mess,” Markus said. “Emily…do you want to attend the meeting? You are a major shareholder in the bank.”

  “I think the bankers would prefer to deal with you,” Emily said. She didn’t enjoy big meetings. Working with people one on one was much less stressful. “And I have to discuss the matter with others.”

  “You might need to mention it to King Randor,” Markus said. “You are one of his aristocrats, even if you’re technically in exile. He probably needs to be warned.”

  “And Imaiqah,” Emily said. She could send a letter to Randor. It would give him time to think before he wrote a reply. “Cockatrice is right next door.”

  “Close enough for trouble to spill over.” Markus stood and paced over to the window. “I wonder if any of us will have a pot to piss in when all of this is over.”

  “I wish I knew.” Emily finished her drink, then rose. Frieda followed her. “Be careful, all right?”

  “You too.” Markus turned to face her. “And if anyone asks about those rumors, what should I say?”

  Emily made a face. On one hand, the thought of allowing Vesperian to keep spreading lies was unappealing. If, of course, it was Vesperian spreading lies. But on the other hand, an outright denial might make matters worse. Anyone who thought the railway was about to collapse, dragging half the city down with it, would do everything in their power to get their money out before it was too late. And, in doing so, they’d start the collapse.

  “Tell the general public that you’re not allowed to comment,” she said, slowly. It was true enough. The Bank of Silence prided itself on not sharing information with anyone. “And tell the bankers that I won’t be putting any money into the railway.”

  “As you wish,” Markus said. He glance
d back out the window. “Do you want to use the tunnel to leave?”

  “I think we’d better,” Emily said. “I don’t want to be noticed.”

  “That might be too late,” Markus said. “But try and stay out of sight as much as possible.”

  Emily cast a glamour over herself as she followed the secretary down a long staircase and into a servant’s corridor. The air hummed with powerful wards, blurring together into a sensation that made her head spin. It was a relief when they stepped into the tunnel, cast a set of light globes and walked under the road. The wards faded as they hurried away from the bank.

  “It feels…surreal,” Frieda said.

  Emily glanced back at her. “Pardon?”

  Frieda looked…as if she didn’t quite believe herself. “I thought I knew threats,” she said, softly. “My father approaching me with a belt was a personal threat; a blight on the crops or a harder frost was a threat to the whole village. I’ve had people threaten me with beatings or hexes or…the walls trying to crush us. That’s a threat too.”

  She glanced up at the low ceiling. “But this threat is…is so strange, so hard to see. There’s no foreign army at the gates, no fires threatening to burn down the entire city, just…pieces of paper. It’s insubstantial. There’s no sense of threat. And yet you’re saying it could bring down everything.”

  “The fires will come,” Emily predicted. “Once the truth gets out…”

  “It feels like nothing,” Frieda said.

  Emily understood exactly how she felt. Caleb and his family had grown up with money, even if it had been the rough gold and silver coins of the Nameless World rather than a standardized currency. Frieda had probably never touched money until she’d been sold to Mountaintop, perhaps not even until Emily had given her money in Cockatrice. She’d grown up in a world of barter, where a blacksmith or a cobbler might trade their work for food and families pooled their resources just to stay alive. To her, the growing crisis was so nebulous that it might not even exist.

  “Look at it this way,” she said. “Pretend you have ten crowns in your money pouch.”