by K. J. Parker
They found the inn, which also appeared to be entirely composed of corridors, and just when they were sure they’d taken another wrong turning and were about to head back, they stumbled through into the courtyard.
The first thing they noticed was the sunlight, and after that a beautiful cherry tree, which stood in the middle of the grass. Under it sat a very fat man, who appeared to be taking no notice whatsoever of the forty or so men and women who sat on stone benches on all four sides of the covered portico that surrounded the courtyard. They were mostly sitting still and staring vacantly at the sky or the ground, though a few were doing calculations on strings of tally-beads or writing laboriously on plain cedar-backed wax tablets. They showed no inclination to shift up and make room when asked to do so, and in the end Venart and Vetriz had to perch awkwardly on the end of a stone bench.
What little conversation there was seemed to have nothing to do with fish. An ancient and disturbingly thin woman whose forearms were encircled with massive gold bangles from wrist to elbow was telling a rambling story about her daughter’s bad experiences in childbirth, which nobody was listening to. Two stocky bald men were playing checkers on a tiny board balanced on the points of their knees; the board was made of tiny tessarae of lapis lazuli and ivory, and the pieces were coral and amber. A bewildered-looking young man with long, tangled hair was working his way with dedicated efficiency through a tall brass jug of dark-red wine, which he held at arm’s length and poured into his mouth, drenching his beard and tunic. A nice-looking old man with snowy white hair and a brand-new pair of red boots was softly playing a mandolin. The place looked like a cross between some versions of the earthly paradise and a lunatic asylum.
Then, quite unexpectedly, the fat man in the middle looked up from the book he was reading and started talking about cod. He said that because of the recent bad weather and the activities of pirates in the Belmar Straits, good salt cod would quite soon be at a premium. There was a moment of dead silence, almost as if the fat man had said something obscene, before a huge, ferocious-looking individual with a head like a skull replied that he had a warehouse full of barrels of the very finest salt cod, the best that money could buy, and fairly soon he was going to have to throw it all in the sea just to make room for something he might one day have a chance of selling. He was interrupted by a handsome middle-aged lady on the other side of the courtyard, who said in a very matter-of-fact voice that because of the vast quantities of unsaleable cod that were constipating her barn she was staring bankruptcy in the face and considering doing away with herself. A nondescript man with a short grey beard added that he’d invested his daughter’s dowry in cod a short while back and accordingly was resigned to having the wretched girl on his hands for the rest of his life.
The fat man nodded, was silent for a while, and then announced that, owing to the unprecedented demand, he was afraid he would have to ration his customers to a maximum of fifty elmirs of cod apiece for the foreseeable future, and the price would henceforth be seventeen quarters an elmir -
(‘What’s an elmir?’ Vetriz whispered.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Venart replied.)
- which was strictly non-negotiable, cash in advance, no notes of hand or letters of credit. A little wizened man in a corner, who was so tiny that Vetriz had to look quite hard before she managed to see him at all, called out, ‘Fifteen quarters.’ The fat man ignored him, repeated his price, and went back to his book. The dignified lady called out sixteen quarters, half on delivery, half in thirty days. Without looking up, the fat man said ‘Sixteen, cash.’ Everybody started to talk, and then shout, at once. Venart didn’t hear the closing bid above the din, but apparently the bidding was over, because the fat man prised himself up off the ground, brushed off the seat of his trousers, waddled across to one of the checkers-players and started a lively but muffled conversation with him. A cheerful-looking woman with improbably red hair stood up, walked over to the tree, sat under it and produced an embroidery frame.
‘Yes, but if we don’t know what an elmir is,’ Vetriz hissed, ‘we won’t have a clue how much we’re buying.’
‘Excuse me.’ Venart looked over his shoulder. The man who’d just spoken was a tall, stern-looking individual with short grey hair and a magnificent beard that flowed down his chest like an iron waterfall. ‘You aren’t familiar with our weights and measures?’
‘Not entirely,’ Venart admitted.
‘It’s quite simple,’ the man replied. ‘We use the Colleon elmir, which is a volume measure, exclusively for cod; one elmir is roughly two Scona hogsheads, and the Scona hogshead is more or less nineteen City gallons. For all other fish, except herring, we use the Shastel elmir, which is approximately two and a quarter Scona hogsheads, or when it’s more convenient to deal by weight, we deal in Scona hundredweights, which are nine-tenths of the City standard, though for accounting purposes we convert that into Shastel hundredweights, which are eleven-tenths City. A Scona hogshead of cod is just over one Shastel hundredweight, if that’s any help to you. Of course,’ he added, ‘it’s all completely different for dealing in fresh fish, which is important to remember when you’re buying fresh fish to salt down.’
Venart nodded helplessly and thanked the man for his advice, just as the cheerful woman under the tree announced, apparently to her embroidery, that she had four hundred vezants of prime tuna, but she was probably going to hang onto it until the price rose to something like the level she’d bought it at.
(‘Vezants? ’ Venart whispered.
‘Four and an eighth Colleon elmirs,’ his neighbour replied. ‘Some people find it a more convenient measure for large quantities. She’s lying, of course,’ he went on, ‘she’s only got about a quarter as much; but if she manages to sell it all, she’ll buy in the rest of what she needs later on in the day.’)
Eventually, after an hour or so (it was hard keeping track of time) Venart managed to join in the bidding, and went away with a verbal agreement to buy twelve City hundredweights of salt mackerel at fourteen quarters the Colleon elmir from the young man with the brass jug. When they got up to leave, the whole assembly looked up and formally wished them long life and prosperity.
‘I make that seventy-two quarters,’ Venart said, as they found their way out of the alley back into the light and noise of the main street. ‘Which is quite a good price, if you ask me.’
‘Fifty-six,’ Vetriz corrected him. ‘Twelve City hundredweight is ten and four-fifths Shastel hundredweight, which is ten and four-fifths Scona hogsheads, or five and two-fifths elmir. Fifty-six quarters. From what I could gather, it’s slightly on the high side of the going rate.’
‘Oh,’ Venart said. ‘In that case, let’s go back to the inn and have a drink to celebrate. I think we’ve earned one, don’t you?’
There was nobody to be seen when they got back to the inn, and they gave up all hope of getting a drink and collapsed into two rickety chairs in the common room. Venart produced his tablets and was laboriously going over the calculations when he looked up and saw a man in military uniform standing over him.
‘Venart Auzeil?’ the man asked.
‘That’s me.’
‘You’re under arrest,’ the soldier said.
CHAPTER TEN
‘I think it’s broken,’ said Venart sorrowfully, dabbing at his nose with a scrap of bloodstained cloth he’d torn off his sleeve. ‘In fact, I’m sure of it.’
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ Vetriz replied scornfully. ‘You’d know it all right if it really was broken. And anyway, it’s all your own fault.’
Realising that he couldn’t expect any sympathy from his sister, Venart turned away and looked round the room. It wasn’t a dungeon cell or anything like that; as far as he’d been able to gather, they were in some kind of waiting room at the end of a couple of miles of corridors, somewhere in the head office of the Bank of Scona. But a room with four bleak stone walls, no window and a heavy closed door can call itself what it likes; if yo
u happen to be in it, it’s a cell.
‘You really are an idiot, Ven,’ Vetriz went on. ‘What on earth possessed you to talk to that man like that?’
‘How was I to know?’ Venart protested bitterly. ‘Ever since we arrived on this horrible island, all everybody’s been telling me is, “Don’t take any notice of what the scuffers say, they’re just trying it on to get money.” So, quite understandably—’
Vetriz sighed. ‘If you can’t tell the difference between a customs official and a palace guard, I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long in commerce. It was obvious he wasn’t just an ordinary - what was that word you just used?’
‘They all look the same to me,’ Venart replied bitterly. ‘Great big useless idiots in a uniform. And there was no need for him to hit me; all I did was say I wasn’t coming.’
‘That’s not quite true,’ Vetriz pointed out. ‘You said - rather rudely - that you weren’t coming, he tried to grab your arm, you shoved him—’
‘I didn’t shove him. He just sort of collided with my arm.’
Vetriz made a rude noise and folded her arms tightly around her chest. ‘Have you been in places like this before?’ she said. ‘I mean, do you know what happens next?’
Venart shrugged. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I suppose they’ll have us up in front of a judge and we’ll be fined a lot of money. That’s what it’s all about, I imagine, getting money out of us.’
Vetriz shuddered slightly. ‘I only hope you’re right,’ she said. ‘Assault on an officer of the state in the execution of his duties . . . You don’t think they’ll hang us, do you? Or lock us up for years and years?’
Venart scowled. ‘This is a bank,’ he replied, trying to sound confident. ‘How much business do you think they’d do if every time there was a misunderstanding with a foreign trader they slung him in jail? You just don’t do that sort of thing if you want to deal with people.’
‘There’s that,’ Vetriz replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. ‘But of course, we don’t know what it was they were arresting us for in the first place. That could be something awful.’
‘Why? Have you done something awful without telling me?’
‘No, of course not, but it could be something they think is awful.’ Vetriz stared gloomily at the door. ‘This is so stupid,’ she said, ‘being locked up like this and not knowing what’s going on. How long have we been here?’
Venart shrugged. ‘Three hours? I don’t know. Too long, anyway. For one thing, I need to see a doctor.’
‘Oh, shut up about your stupid nose. Don’t you ever think about anybody beside yourself?’
‘Well, if you hadn’t kept on about how gullible I’d been giving that warehouseman all that money—’
Vetriz sighed. ‘Oh, yes, do let’s have a big argument and start calling each other names, it’ll help pass the time. I’m frightened.’
‘I’m not exactly having a wonderful time myself,’ Venart admitted. ‘If only we knew someone who could help us out of this.’
Vetriz opened her mouth and then closed it again; and a moment or so later, the door opened and a soldier appeared.
‘Follow me,’ he said.
So they followed him, along an endless corridor, up a flight of steps, down a flight of steps, up another flight of steps, along an endless corridor. There was nobody else to be seen, and the clopping of the soldier’s boots echoed loudly off the stone walls and ceilings. Just when Venart was wondering if they were in fact going round in circles, the soldier stopped abruptly and pulled open a door. ‘In there,’ he said.
In there turned out to be another small, bare, windowless room, containing an almost identical set of two chairs and a table. Venart and Vetriz were bundled in, and the door closed.
‘Wonderful,’ Venart sighed. ‘Maybe this is a special sort of punishment they reserve for people who do awful things. We could spend the rest of our lives—’
‘Shut up, Ven.’
Ten minutes later, the door opened again and a different soldier led them out, down an endless corridor, up a flight of stairs and into another bare, miserable-looking room; but this one was wide and high, with a hammer-beam roof and thick granite pillars. That was it, apart from a wooden bench. They sat down and the door closed, but before they had a chance to get used to their relatively improved environment the door opened again and a clerk came in.
‘The Director’s ready for you,’ he said. ‘This way.’
Venart looked at his sister; she shrugged. They followed the clerk into the adjoining room, which was almost identical to the one they’d just left, except that in the very centre of it was a desk, and behind the desk was a woman. She was short, dumpy even, with a broad face and large eyes, greying brown hair pulled sharply back onto a bun, and she wore a dark-green grown that was little more than a peasant’s smock, with a plain cord belt. She sat in a large, old wooden chair without arms. There were no other chairs in the room.
The woman looked at them for a moment. ‘Venart and Vetriz Auzeil,’ she said, stating a fact.
‘That’s right,’ Venart replied. The woman had a rather deep voice, with just a trace of an unfamiliar accent underneath the sing-song cadences of Received Perimadeian. ‘Excuse me,’ he went on, ‘but why are we here?’
The woman looked at him.
‘I mean,’ Venart went on, ‘I admit I did sort of shove that soldier back when he shoved me, but it was really just a reflex action, and he did shove first, and anyway, there was no call for him to go hitting me, so . . .’ He tailed off. The woman was still looking at him.
‘So you assaulted an officer,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know that.’ Venart opened his mouth and then closed it again. She stopped looking at him and turned her attention to Vetriz.
‘You arranged the rescue of Patriarch Alexius from Perimadeia, ’ she said. Vetriz nodded. ‘And then he lived with you for some considerable time before he came here.’ Again it was a recapitulation of facts not in dispute, rather than an enquiry.
‘That’s right,’ Vetriz said nevertheless; anything to break the silence. ‘We got to know him when we were in the City just before the fall, and we became friends. He’s a nice old man. We liked him.’
‘I am Niessa Loredan,’ the woman said. ‘You know my brothers Gorgas and Bardas.’
Vetriz nodded.
‘And you’ve heard of me.’
‘Yes.’ What Vetriz wanted to say was, Yes, and haven’t we met? Not here, but, well, somewhere else? And I’m frightened of you, but not nearly as much as you think I am.
Niessa Loredan’s mouth twitched a little at one corner. ‘Do you know where Alexius is now?’ she asked. ‘Have you seen him at all since you’ve been on Scona?’
‘No,’ said Venart. ‘We haven’t seen him since he left the Island to come here. Didn’t you invite him—?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Niessa Loredan. ‘I think he came to see you and asked you to take him back to the Island with you. I think you know perfectly well where he is.’
Venart started off on a passionate denial, to which neither of the women listened. In fact, he wasn’t there any more; Niessa and Vetriz faced each other across a hazy representation of a desk in a line drawing of a room.
‘You know we haven’t seen him,’ Vetriz said.
‘I know,’ Niessa replied. ‘Or at least, I do now. That’s a pity, because I want to use him if I can to do something about this dreadful mess. Do you know about it?’
‘Not really,’ Vetriz replied. ‘I’ve heard rumours, about a riding party—’
Niessa shrugged away the rest of the answer. ‘But that’s not why I wanted to see you. You’re in love with my brother.’
‘No!’ Vetriz replied angrily. ‘It was just one time, and I felt awful the next—’
Niessa smiled. ‘Not Gorgas,’ she said. ‘Bardas. Well, aren’t you?’
Vetriz frowned. ‘Not that I’m aware of. And I think I’d have noticed something like that, don’t you?
‘No
t necessarily. All right, let’s say he fascinates you. You felt a strong attraction towards him the first time you saw him - fighting the lawcourts, wasn’t it? And then by pure chance you met him again in a tavern immediately afterwards and talked to him, and you were - interested. Yes?’
Vetriz thought for a moment. There was obviously no point in lying.
‘It’s possible,’ she said. ‘But I often see men I like the look of, but for one reason or another I don’t follow it up. It’s not - nice.’
Niessa smiled again. her smiles didn’t mean the same thing as most people’s. ‘But you saved his life, didn’t you? By using your gifts as a natural, using the Principle; you saw a moment in the future where he was killed, and you changed it. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Vetriz spread her hands. ‘Honestly,’ she said, ‘I don’t know. Gorgas said - well, I think somehow that Gorgas communicated to me that that’s what happened, but if it did I wasn’t aware of it. Isn’t that the point about being a natural? I mean, apparently you should know that as well as I do.’
‘Not quite,’ Niessa replied, lacing her fingers together. ‘I’m not a natural like you are, I found a way to use the Principle deliberately. I don’t think anybody’s ever been able to do that before. It means my abilities are limited, but I can use them, such as they are, whenever I want. I may not be a natural myself, but I can - now then, what would be the right word? Think of a cuckoo laying its eggs in another bird’s nest, or a leech, even.’