The Proof House

by K. J. Parker

  ‘Quite.’ The prefect leaned back in his chair. ‘Had we told him we weren’t interested in his alliance?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ the administrator said, picking up a small ivory figure from the desk, examining it briefly and putting it back. ‘The timing couldn’t have been worse. As soon as he got our response, he sat down and fired off a reply; most extraordinary letter I’ve read in a long time, a thoroughly bizarre mixture of obsequiousness and threats – you ought to read it yourself, if only for the entertainment value. My assessor reckons he’s off his head, and after reading this letter I’m inclined to agree with him. Apparently, when the letter telling him we didn’t want the alliance reached him, he was in a farmyard splitting wood.’

  ‘Splitting wood,’ the prefect repeated. ‘Why?’

  ‘I get the impression he likes splitting wood. Not per se; he enjoys making believe he’s a farmer. He comes from a farming family, apparently, though he had to leave home in something of a hurry. So far, the only possible explanation I’ve heard for what he’s done in the Mesoge is that it was the only way he could ever go home.’

  ‘He does sound deranged, I’ll admit.’ The prefect made a slight gesture with his hands. ‘Insanity isn’t necessarily an obstacle to success in his line of work, though,’ he observed. ‘Frequently, in fact, it’s an asset, if properly used. Has he said what he wants from us yet?’

  The administrator shook his head. ‘All we’ve had is a terse little note saying he’s got Partek in custody and would like us to send someone to discuss matters with him. I imagine he’d far rather we made the opening bid; which is reasonable enough, I suppose, from his point of view. I mean, all he knows is what we’ve said openly, he’s got no way of knowing how important to us Partek really is.’ The administrator hesitated for a moment, and then went on. ‘To be honest,’ he said, ‘I’m not entirely sure myself. What’s the official line on that these days?’

  The prefect sighed. ‘He’s important enough,’ he said. ‘Not as important as he was five years ago, but he’s still a damned nuisance; not because of anything he’s done or anything he’s capable of doing, it’s more the fact that he’s still out there, and we haven’t been able to do a damn thing about it.’ He frowned, and scratched his ear. ‘It’s amusing, really; the less he actually achieves, the more his legend grows. In some parts of the south-eastern region, they’re firmly convinced he’s in control of the western peninsula and he’s raising an army to march on the Homeland. No, we need to be able to point to his head nailed to a door in Ap’ Silas; if we could do that, it’d be a good day’s work.’

  ‘Which means,’ said the administrator, ‘we have to give Gorgas Loredan what he asks for?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ The prefect paused for a moment. He couldn’t hear the madman any more; someone must have come and dealt with him. ‘There’s no reason why we should necessarily replace a big problem with a smaller one. Now then,’ he went on, ‘if I remember correctly, this Gorgas Loredan’s the brother of our own Bardas Loredan.’

  ‘The hero,’ replied the administrator with a grin. ‘That’s right. Extraordinary family; if only the Mesoge produced more men like that, it might be – well, interesting to have an alliance with them. They’re both barking mad, of course, but you can’t help but admire their vitality.’

  ‘I can,’ the prefect said, ‘when it causes me difficulties. Let’s see, then. We need Bardas Loredan to be the figurehead against the plainspeople, so presumably we can’t play rough with Gorgas Loredan, for fear of offending him—’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ the administrator interrupted. ‘By all accounts, Bardas hates Gorgas like poison – there’s a really wonderful backstory to all that, by the way, remind me to tell you about it when we’ve got five minutes – so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. But Gorgas, apparently, dotes on Bardas—’

  The prefect held up his hands. ‘This is all a bit much,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, please go on. I just find all this a trifle bewildering, that’s all.’

  ‘So do I,’ the administrator replied with a smile. ‘But you must admit, it’s rather more intriguing than the quarterly establishment returns.’

  The heavy clouds that had been masking the sun lifted, and a blinding beam of amber sunlight dazzled the prefect for a moment. He shifted his chair a little to avoid it. ‘At my time of life I can manage quite well without being intrigued, so long as I don’t have to deal with messy little people living in obscure places,’ he said grimly. ‘On the other hand,’ he went on, lightening up a little, ‘I must confess, Bardas Loredan was something of a collector’s item. He obviously didn’t have a clue who he was talking to, which was really quite refreshing. Anyway, where were we?’

  The prefect leaned back, his fingertips pressed against his lips. ‘We need Bardas because of Temrai, and now Gorgas has got Partek; but we don’t want to be seen to be friends with Gorgas, and Bardas won’t mind if we aren’t friends with Gorgas . . . What was that you said about the clipper?’ he added, leaning forward again. ‘He’s detaining it, you say?’

  The administrator, who had been studying the floral designs carved along the edge of the desk, nodded. ‘And that’s awkward too,’ he said. ‘You see, there’s quite a lot in dispatches about the Temrai business; all the paperwork for the ships we’ve been chartering, letters of credit, signed agreements, draft schedules – put them together and you’d have a fairly clear picture of what we’re proposing to do, provided you had the wits to understand it all.’

  ‘Which Gorgas clearly does, even if they’re addled,’ the prefect said. ‘That’s awkward. I was considering rattling a sabre at him for detaining our ship, perhaps frightening him into giving us Partek that way. But that would only draw his attention to what he’s got hold of.’

  The administrator pursed his lips. ‘I’d tend to look at it the other way round,’ he said. ‘How would it look to you if you were illegally detaining the provincial office’s dispatches courier, and they didn’t make an almighty fuss about it? In fact, I suspect that’s precisely why he’s doing it, to see how we react. Otherwise, he’s got no possible motive for pulling our tails in this way.’

  ‘That’s a very good point,’ the prefect conceded. ‘Oh, damn the man, he’s giving me a headache. At this precise moment, I think I could easily do without the vitality of the Loredan brothers, thank you very much.’

  ‘Ah.’ The administrator smiled. ‘That’s where we might be able to do something. I’m thinking about the Loredan sister.’

  The prefect turned his head sharply. ‘Do you know, I’d forgotten all about her. Niessa Loredan, who ran the bank on Scona that so annoyed our friends in the Shastel Order.’

  ‘That’s the one,’ the administrator said. ‘Currently enjoying our hospitality, of course.’

  ‘That’s right. Now then, how do the brothers stand as far as she’s concerned? They either love her or hate her, I’m sure, but which is it?’

  The administrator folded his hands neatly in his lap. ‘Gorgas loves her, I think,’ he said, ‘although she did rather leave him in the lurch at the fall of Scona when she skipped off with all the money and left him to do all the fighting. But I don’t think Gorgas holds that against her; he’s very forgiving when it comes to family.’

  The prefect raised an eyebrow but didn’t take the point. ‘And Bardas? He loves her too?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ the administrator replied. ‘I don’t think he hates her, either. But her daughter has made a public vow to kill him, if that has any bearing on matters.’

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake.’ The prefect shook his head. ‘Never mind, I expect it’s all in the files somewhere. In fact, I must have read about it all before I interviewed the man. So, I take it you’ve got something in mind.’

  Beautiful, though rare, are the smiles of the Children of Heaven. ‘Not really,’ the administrator said. ‘Little more than a notion that she might come in handy, if the situation looks like getting out of hand. But it�
��d be as well to secure her – both of them, actually, the daughter as well as the mother. We’ll hold them as illegal aliens and leave it at that for now.’

  The prefect stood up and walked to the window, under which grew a fine old fig tree. From the window he could almost but not quite reach the topmost fig. ‘For now, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘getting hold of Partek must have priority. If I lose him now, I’ll have some difficult questions to answer. Do what you can; obviously I’d prefer to avoid any kind of alliance with that man, but I’m sure you can find some form of words that’ll satisfy him and not commit us to anything. Next priority is the Perimadeia business, though it’s not in the same league as Partek, so be a bit careful where Bardas Loredan is concerned. Otherwise, I’m quite happy for you to use your own judgement.’ He turned away from the window, so that his face was in shadow, and frowned. ‘There’s always a danger when we start looking at these sort of people on an individual level of losing our sense of proportion. Aside from Partek, none of the individuals here is even remotely significant at a policy level. It’s only when we come down to strategic – lower than that, even; tactical – that they begin to look important.’ He shrugged and sat down on the corner of his desk. ‘I mean to say,’ he went on, ‘if you come to the conclusion that the best way to get hold of Partek is to take two divisions and some of these ships we’ve been chartering and annex the Mesoge, then by all means do it. I’m not suggesting you should,’ he added, before the administrator could say anything, ‘I’m just pointing out the need to focus on journey’s end, not the scenery along the way. The same goes for Shastel, or any of these petty little kingdoms. If they’ve got to go, they’ve got to go. All we’re concerned about is cost-efficiency and economy of effort.’

  The administrator stood up to leave. ‘A valid point,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring in Partek, have no fears on that score. But you won’t object if I try to do it neatly and elegantly, will you? After all,’ he added with a grin, ‘it doesn’t take much imagination to send in an army. It’s sending in an army under budget that gets you noticed by the provincial office.’

  ‘This is appalling,’ muttered Eseutz Mesatges, easing her shoulder-strap where it was biting into the side of her neck. ‘All these people wanting to buy, and nothing to sell to them.’

  Another quiet day on the Span. Usually it took half an hour to thread one’s way the hundred or so yards across the bridge; today it had taken a few minutes. Hido Glaia, desperate for three bales of green velvet to make up an order he’d assured the customer he’d dispatched a week ago, nodded sadly. ‘If this incredible opportunity of a lifetime goes on much longer,’ he said, ‘it’ll ruin us all. That’s if we don’t all die of boredom first.’ He picked up a sample of cloth, the same piece he’d examined and rejected yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. It was the only green velvet on the Island. ‘I’ll be so desperate I’ll come back for this tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and by then someone’ll have bought it. Come on, let’s have a drink. Assuming there’s still some booze left on this miserable rock.’

  In the Golden Palace, they found Venart Auzeil and Tamin Votz, sitting gloomily over a half-empty jug. As soon as they walked in, Venart looked up hopefully.

  ‘Hido,’ he said, ‘my axe-handles. Have you got them for me?’

  Hido pulled out a chair and sat in it, stifling a yawn. ‘Oh, come on,’ he said, ‘what do you take me for, the tooth fairy? Or do you think I was down on the beach at first light, whittling them out of driftwood?’

  ‘I take it that means you haven’t,’ Venart replied miserably. ‘Which means I’ve now got to go to the Doce brothers and try and explain to them—’

  ‘That my ship and your ship and everybody else’s ship is tied up at the quay,’ Hido interrupted, ‘along with all of theirs. I think they probably already know. Relax, Ven, the Doce boys know the score, you’re all right. You’re not the one with a ferocious Colleon fabrics cartel breathing down your neck and threatening you with penalty clauses. Talking of which,’ he added, ‘you wouldn’t happen to have such a thing as three bales of green velvet, Island standard fine?’

  Venart frowned. ‘Not me, no,’ he said, ‘but you might try talking to Triz. I know she bought a whole load of stuff a few months back – you know, when they sold up Remvaut Jors. I have an idea there was some green velvet in with it, though whether—’

  ‘God bless you,’ Hido said, jumping up. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know how much she paid for it, would you?’

  ‘Hido! She’s my sister!’

  ‘Can’t blame a man for trying. Thank you.’

  He bustled away. Eseutz emptied his cup into hers. ‘Well, you never know,’ she explained, as Venart looked at her. ‘They may be rationing the stuff tomorrow, if things go on like this.’

  Tamin Votz laughed. ‘What I don’t understand is,’ he said, ‘I know why none of our ships are coming in or out, but why aren’t any foreign ships coming here? Do you think the Empire’s chartered them too?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Venart said. ‘Well, it is,’ he added defensively as Eseutz giggled. ‘Gods alone know how big this army of theirs is going to be, and it goes without saying they’ve got the money.’

  ‘Really?’ Tamin Votz smiled as he emptied the last few drops from the jug into his cup. ‘You know, the thing that’s come out of all this that I find most interesting is how little we actually know about the Empire. Oh, we think we know, but that’s not the same thing at all. It’s like looking at the sky. I mean, we all see it every day, it’s just there. But we don’t know how it works, or what it’s really for, or even what it actually is. Same with the Empire, if you ask me.’

  Eseutz had found a discarded bowl of olives on a neighbouring table. ‘I was reading a book,’ she said with her mouth full, ‘and it said the sky’s really just this enormous piece of blue cloth, and the stars are little holes where the light comes through. And the rain, too, although that bit strikes me as rather far-fetched. Because if that was the case, every time it rains you’d expect there to be dirty great big puddles right under the Pole Star. I wonder if anybody’s actually checked to see if they line up. The rain, I mean, and the stars.’

  Tamin raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know you read books, Eseutz,’ he said. ‘Come wrapped round something, did it?’

  ‘Oh, very funny,’ Eseutz replied, spitting out an olive stone. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve got a whole box of books in my warehouse. This big, it is. And even now I can’t shift them,’ she added wistfully. ‘Hey, Ven, I don’t suppose you’d be interested—’

  ‘No.’ Venart swirled the last of his wine round the bottom of his cup. ‘But I suppose you’re right,’ he went on. ‘No, not you, him. About the Empire. I haven’t got a clue how big it is. I just know it’s – well, big.’

  ‘It’s that all right,’ Tamin said. ‘Too big, if you ask me. I’ve been hearing stories about a civil war, even.’

  ‘Really?’ Eseutz lifted her head. ‘Oh, wait. Do you mean the Partek rumours? Because I happen to know for a fact . . .’

  Tamin shook his head. ‘I mean a real civil war,’ he said, ‘not just random acts of meaningless violence by a bunch of pirates. No, this is supposed to be a show-down between the Imperial family and some warlord or other, far away to the south-east. The whole thing’s probably been exaggerated way out of proportion, but I do believe there’s at least a small grain of truth in it. And that’s my point, you see,’ he went on. ‘I simply don’t know how these things work. If there’s a civil war, a real one, will they suddenly put everything else on hold and hurry back home to take part? Or do things like that happen every day?’

  Venart shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’ he asked. ‘One thing we can all be sure of, the Empire’s never bothered us. And I don’t believe it ever will.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Tamin enquired. ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘Well,’ Venart said, ‘for one thing they don’t have a fleet, and this is an island after all. Or had you always a
ssumed we were on a mountaintop and it’d been raining a lot?’

  ‘They do have a fleet, though,’ Eseutz put in. ‘Ours.’

  ‘All right, but they’re hardly likely to use our own fleet against us.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. More to the point, they don’t need a fleet to use against us if ours is out of the running.’

  ‘And how are they going to get here without any ships? Walk?’ Venart shook his head. ‘The point is, I can’t see the Empire ever attacking us. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not how they go about things.’

  ‘As far as you know. And, as I think we’ve all agreed, we know spit about the Empire.’

  Venart sighed patiently. ‘They’re only interested in securing their borders,’ he said. ‘We’re in the middle of the sea. End of story.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Tamin said. ‘I just feel we ought to know more about them, that’s all. For example, the amount of business we do with them is pretty well negligible – and that does concern us all right. We could be missing out on some amazing opportunities.’

  Venart scratched his ear. ‘My guess is, they don’t need anything we sell. They can get everything they want from inside the Empire. And I’m not sure I’d be all that keen to trade with them anyway. I don’t know what it is, but they give me the creeps.’

  ‘Ah,’ Tamin said, ‘that’s more like it. We don’t do business with them because we’re afraid of them. Or we just don’t like them, whatever. That’s a pretty juvenile attitude for a trading nation, don’t you think?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Venart replied. ‘Maybe it’s just me. But they’re so big, and—’

  ‘Scary?’

  Venart nodded. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘scary, yes. I feel on edge dealing with them. I can’t help it, it’s just the way I feel.’