by Philip Hamm
“Why are we starting twenty years ago?” Fratris asked, thinking her story was going to involve another long history lesson before it got anywhere interesting.
“Firstly, because it was the year of Zizania’s birth. Under Quill law, it’s always the last-born who inherits the crown so she became the heir rather than her eldest brother, Prince Rhatany.”
“That seems odd,” said Fengtai.
“It’s a practice called ‘ultimogeniture’.”
“In Penti, it’s always the eldest male and females never lead.”
Crotal nodded, “Mine too but women can become sultanas if there’s no man.”
“We vote for our leaders,” said Fratris, grandly. “Including the emperor...”
Faam put her hand up before they got into an argument over the relative merits of their different systems. “But in the Quill Empire,” she said. “They believe in continuity above everything and by choosing the youngest sibling they hope he or she will be able to reign for a very long time. The older princes and princesses go on to rule the twelve worlds of their empire or help to guide the heir through their early years.”
Fratris asked, “What’s the second reason for starting twenty years ago?”
“This period is usually called Quill’s ‘Golden Age’; King Tragacanth had negotiated peace with all his neighbours and they were beginning to trade further away from their empire. But they needed steel, aluminium and other metals if they were going to grow their economy and for that they needed money.”
Fengtai asked, “Why couldn’t they make their own metals?”
“It was easier and cheaper to buy them from another empire; Xramarsis, for instance, forges more steel in a day than Quill could make in a year. But they needed money for the transactions and that’s why King Tragacanth sent a delegation to Megaron in the Tun Empire, where the Rickoby Bank of Credit and Commerce has its southern headquarters, to ask for a loan. Nacyon was among those delegates and it was there that he first met Rimmon.”
“Komtur Rimmon?” said Crotal, shivering slightly.
“He wasn’t a komtur then but yes, the same man.”
“My friend Allis met him once,” said Fengtai. “She said he’s evil.”
Faam shrugged, “I don’t think he’s ‘evil’ as such. But he is ambitious and the one thing he wanted then as much as now is for the Zarktek to return and reclaim their old empires...”
“So, this story is about them,” said Fratris, looking pleased.
2 - Nacyon’s story
New Megaron City is a collection of islands in the elbow of a bay that extends west into a small sea. For four months of the year the city is covered in ice and snow and even the summers can be cold. Nacyon and his fellow delegates were dressed as warmly as they could be but they still felt the chill as they stepped off the boat that had brought them down from their warship, the QRN Apus.
Leading the group was Rao Quern of Nide, King Tragacanth’s eldest brother and the proposer of the mission. Next to him was Prince Rhatany, the eldest of the king’s sons and just nineteen. There were other important, unrelated functionaries, who would do the actual negotiating while the royals were being entertained by the Rickoby Bank of Credit and Commerce. Nacyon was there as ballast and nothing more.
“What a Pater-forsaken place,” said Rhatany, looking around at the low buildings that surrounded the port. It was early spring and while the thaw had melted the ice between the islands snow still covered the roofs and roads and there was sleet falling from the grey sky.
“It’s the way the Tundra people like to live,” Quern warned him.
Rhatany shivered, “My hands and feet are frozen already.”
“Be careful; to show weakness at this early stage will make our work even harder.”
The prince thrust his hands under his armpits. “Why would anyone choose to live in a place like this?” He gave a Nacyon a wry smile.
“Perhaps it makes the warmth of a fire all the sweeter,” Nacyon replied. “Or perhaps they simply don’t feel it.”
“They must have skins like a Poa-bird.”
“Rhatany,” warned Quern again as he spotted their hosts coming across the landing field towards them.
Before ambition poisoned him completely, Rhatany could be charming and funny. As a boy, he had looked up to Nacyon, like a favourite uncle; the Rao had served in the war (though he’d been nothing more than a cabin boy) and the young prince had always enjoyed his stories. But now he was older and learning to become a rao himself, he no longer looked at Nacyon the same way. He had begun to show signs of pride and arrogance. He no longer looked at his old friend as an equal. He made snide comments about Sapadilla being the one mistake their ancestors had ever made and suggested its colonists had not been ‘good enough’ to keep control of their world.
Nacyon couldn’t argue with him, mostly because he agreed; his family should have been stronger and stood up to the Council of Empires when it decided Sapadilla’s fate. Instead of giving their world away to the Zamut Empire, his father and uncles should have threatened them with war. But the prince had laughed at him and said, “What would you have fought them with? The feathers from your head...?”
The representatives of the RBBC made a great show of welcoming their guests from the Quill Empire. They escorted them to the finest hotel in New Megaron City and held a banquet in their honour in its dining hall with the finest food and the finest wine the Tun Empire had to offer.
At least the hotel was warm, Nacyon thought. There were fireplaces everywhere, some so big he could have walked around inside them, and pipes ran hot water under the floors. It was just as well the hinterland of the city was covered in trees.
The day after their reception, they were taken to the RBCC ziggurat to begin their negotiations. Nacyon had to admit, the building was impressive; seven layers of floors climbed up towards the sky, each one decorated with abstract shapes and pierced by triple-glazed windows to keep out the weather. The inside, lined with wood and floored with tiles, was a hive of banking activities. Nacyon had no idea what they were doing and didn’t understand the answers even when he asked. Fiscal management was as much a mystery to him as tides and sunsets.
*
Faam explained: “Quill has a strange relationship with money; they have a paper currency and use aluminium coins as a basis for exchanging goods but they don’t earn wages in the traditional sense. Their people work for the collective good of the Empire and share equally in its fortunes. Because their hierarchy is absolutely rigid, everyone accepts their role and makes the best of their circumstances in the knowledge that when they die, they will be judged on their merits by Pater Junopta and Mater Quill – their creator gods.”
Fratris asked, “Why do they bother to work if they know they’ll have to be dead before they get any kind of reward?”
“They believe in the destiny of their race, perhaps more than any other species, and working towards their collective goals is everything to them. Perhaps it has something to do with their biology or perhaps it’s just their history, but Quill is very unified society.”
“My people are similar,” said Fengtai. “Every Penti believes it is more important to serve his clan with honour rather than for the sake of individual pride or wealth.”
“If we didn’t pay our servants or our workers,” said Crotal, “They’d leave for better jobs elsewhere.”
“Same here,” said Fratris.
*
The negotiations between Quill and the RBBC were set to last two weeks and Nacyon was surplus to requirements. He explored the city, visited its museums and went to concerts in the evening. But he was bored beyond endurance after the first few days. He was just beginning to wonder if he could find a way of persuading Rao Quern to send him home when he was approached by Komtur Rimmon.
Rimmon had been watching Nacyon closely. Though he was introduced as the ‘Rao of Sapadilla’, Quern had made it obvious the title didn’t mean much and he guessed, correctly, Nacyon
might feel bitter about that. He had asked their servants questions about him, had listened closely to his conversations with the other members of the party and had come to the conclusion that Nacyon alone among the Quill delegates might be useful to his private agenda.
Nacyon was in the lobby of the hotel when Rimmon first approached. He was trying to read the local paper; he had a rough knowledge of standard Evigonese but it was a struggle to understand the various idioms the journalists used. He was about to give up and go to bed when Rimmon, dressed as an ordinary clerk for the bank, sat next to him.
“These talks feel as though they’ll go on forever,” he said.
Nacyon nodded, “I’m not even part of them and that’s even worse; I’m just sitting around like an extra pillow while everyone else is busy.”
Rimmon smiled, “Have you had a look around the city?”
“Twice,” he replied.
“What about the old cities?”
From his visit to the various museums, Nacyon had gathered there were many fine archaeological sites on the southern continents; the remnants of the civilisation of the Zarktek. Though there were no images of the tsars themselves, there were statues, furniture and paintings in the museums’ halls depicting their artistic side and the fruits of their slaves’ labour. “I would like to know more,” he admitted. “But I don’t know where these places are.”
“Let me be your guide,” Rimmon replied with his most charming smile.
“I’m sure you must be very busy...”
“You’re an important guest; it’s my duty to show you around our world.”
Nacyon was still reluctant. He felt he shouldn’t trust a stranger who wasn’t a Quill. But neither did he want to sit around doing nothing for another week.
Rimmon asked, “Would you like me to speak to Rao Quern or Prince Rhatany on your behalf?”
“I don’t need their permission,” Nacyon replied, slightly annoyed by the offer. “But how will we travel to these sites?”
“I have a small yacht I can use, if you’re interested...”
Nacyon made his mind up, “Yes – I’d like to see more of your world, especially the parts that were built by the Zarktek.”
“Tomorrow then,” said Rimmon. “I’ll take you to see the Spires of Stolas.”
Nacyon didn’t tell Rao Quern or the prince that he had met Rimmon and said nothing about going sight-seeing around the planet. He knew they would probably tell him he couldn’t go. Quern would have been suspicious of Rimmon’s motives (quite rightly as it turned out) and Rhatany would have ordered him to stay in the city out of spite. So, he kept quiet.
Besides, as they sat together at dinner, his companions were too busy boasting about their apparent successes during their meeting with the bank officials. According to their side of the story, the bankers were almost throwing money at them. They could have as much of the stuff as they wanted. It was only later, when Nacyon had a look at their so-called ‘successes’, that he noticed something called an ‘interest rate’ buried in the text of the proposal. At the end of each month, for every pound of borrowed gold, the RBCC expected half its weight in return (or its equivalent in other goods). Nacyon wasn’t a mathematician but even he could work out that over a year this was going to be an extortionate amount of treasure.
The next day, Rimmon kept his promise and arrived in the borrowed yacht to take him to the Spires of Stolas. “Are you ready for an adventure?” he asked amiably.
“I’m ready to see a Zarktek city,” Nacyon replied.
Rimmon smiled and added, “The journey will take about three hours. I have brought some lunch with us and, unless you have appointments later, I propose we stay out for most of the day.”
“I have no appointments.”
“I expect you’ll be glad to get out of the city.”
“Is it warm where we’re going?”
“Very – most of the Zarktek cities and archaeological sites are in the desert regions of the south.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the comforts our hosts have provided but I’ve never felt so cold in my life.”
“You’ll soon be warm again when we reach the Spires - in fact, you’ll probably want to change your clothes when we get there.”
“I don’t have anything to wear...”
“I can find you something.”
The yacht was owned by the bank and like most human vessels it was just a box with a wheelhouse and a small cabin at the back on an open deck, protected by an Exarch field. There was no buzz of a Pavonine generator or crackle of its lines and Nacyon found the silence disconcerting. He didn’t entirely trust the technology (even though, in almost every way, it was more reliable than Quill’s own).
As well as the pilot, there was a servant who brought them wine and served them lunch later in the day. The two men were as silent as their Exarch disks and never spoke a word during the whole trip.
While they made their way across the globe, Rimmon asked Nacyon, “How do you think the talks are going between our peoples?”
“I don’t think they’re going as well as Rao Quern and Prince Rhatany think they are.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was looking at some of the documents and I can see we’ll owe the bank far more money than we’ll ever be able to repay.”
“The RBCC isn’t interested in bankrupting your people...”
“No, but it isn’t interested in our welfare either.”
“It’s a business – there’s nothing personal in their decisions.”
“But the cost...”
“It’s no small thing to lend money to an empire; there is always a danger that your people will go to war with your neighbours and the bank will lose its investment. It is well-known that Quill would like its former northern empire back and is prepared to go to great lengths to get it. But six of those worlds are now held by the Ulupan Empire and it would be foolish to try and attack them.”
“But three are now part of the Empire of East Rickoby; how will we get those back if we’re in debt to your bank?”
Rimmon smiled, “Exactly.”
Nacyon stared at him, “Do you mean to say, the RBCC is offering us more money than we can afford just so we won’t be able to reclaim our lost worlds?”
“That’s what I believe is happening – but, I don’t know for sure. It would seem logical that the loan is intended to bind our peoples together rather than drive them apart.”
“What if we used those loans against you? Part of the money is intended for a new navy to protect our borders but the ships could as easily be sent to the north to re-take the worlds Rickoby is now holding...?”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “And neither the RBCC nor the Councillors of Rickoby have the means of stopping you. You could tear up the loan agreements and never pay the money back. But what would happen then? Even if your navy managed to reclaim Hamose, Redren and Varvels from us, they’re so far from your empire they would be impossible to manage. And where would you get the money to develop them? The RBCC would use its influence to make sure none of the other banks in Evigone gave you a single penny.”
“We would lose everything...”
“Yes – and I dare say, while your navy was away in the north, your enemies closer to home would take advantage of their absence.”
Nacyon sighed, “Perhaps we shouldn’t take the loan; the money will encourage my people to believe the impossible is possible but in reality, it will just bring disaster down on our heads.”
Rimmon shrugged, “That’s only if they use the loan unwisely. There are many who have borrowed from the RBCC, worked hard and become great successes. Look at the Droger Company and the other traders who are now buying and selling across the Third Sphere; they took out loans to build their ships and buy their first goods and now they’re completely free of their debts.”
“I’m afraid my empire doesn’t understand the nature of commerce; it’s not the w
ay we think.”
“It’s quite simple: make something people want, they buy it and you get rich.”
“We don’t believe in personal wealth.”
“What would you do with the money if you had lots of it?”
“I wouldn’t bother with trying to reclaim our old empire for a start; as you said, that’s just a waste of time and effort. But I would try and help people closer to home...”
Rimmon smiled, “Sapadilla...?”
“Our colony is shrinking all the time as more and more are emigrating back to other worlds in our empire and we’ll reach a point where there won’t be enough hands to work the land, to plant the crops or pick the fruit from the trees. We’re already out-numbered by migrants from the rest of the Zamut Empire; we’re losing the battle and the King, I’m ashamed to say, seems to care nothing...”
*
Fratris interrupted: “I’m sure this is very interesting but when are we going to get to the Zarktek city?”
“But don’t you see?” said Faam. “This is why the Rao acted the way he did later; he wanted to save Sapadilla and he didn’t see the danger ahead. And that’s why Rimmon chose him, above the other delegates from Quill. The weakness of Sapadilla’s position blinded Nacyon to Rickoby’s true purpose.”
“Which was what?”
She smiled, “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Does it have to do with the Zarktek?”
“Yes...”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I’m listening.”
Crotal asked: “But is it true that Quill wanted their empire back in the north?”
Faam thought for a moment and then answered, “Deep down, I think they knew it would never be possible. As Rimmon said, two-thirds are now part of Ulupan and not even the combined navies of the rest of the Third Sphere could have won them back in a battle. The three worlds controlled by Rickoby, however, might have been sold back to Quill – for a price. But as he pointed out, Hamose, Redren and Varvels are so far from the south that it wouldn’t be worth the cost. It was a dream and nothing more.”