A week later Gherrit was again enjoying a glass of wine with Seyastrik. The night was warm, the sounds from the streets below muted and the stars just beginning to stand out in the evening sky.
“My plans have changed,” Gherrit told Seyastrik. “As you know, my first thought was to tell those in Mer Ammery that they had been duped, and let them deal with the partners. Then I wondered why Pranik had entrusted me with the demon in the first place, and my best guess is that either he was selling it or was repaying a debt. Either way, they might accept his word that he had sent it and blame me for the loss. If the blame fell on Pranik he could just buy them off, although I have no idea what such an Item might be worth to those people (nor did the Archivists in Dtlag).”
“You could just take ship for the Four Kingdoms or KurKroh,” observed Seyastrik. Gherrit thought this was a test.
“I would need to go at least that far and even then could never be sure that I was safe,” returned Gherrit. “A search would soon find I survived and was here in Brahnker City and what then? Everything I have heard says these are not people who forget and forgive.”
Seyastrik conceded. “I have never had dealings with such but by all report you are right.”
“So I need the blame to fall on Pranik. I have a way to do that. It would be even better if he could not buy his way out and that is where I need your advice.”
“Before you give me the detail, what do you expect the partners to do when they get a demand they cannot pay?”
“Run to the Procuracy for protection, where the price is confession of all and recompense. At the least they they must yield to false dealing and endangerment and pay for my pains and terrors,” was Gherrit’s answer.
“Plausible and just. So lay your scheme my boy, and I will give you what help I can.”
“The timing has to be right, but if Iron Casket were asked to be the payor for a bill of exchange for 50,000 tulips at the usual usance and a rate that was twenty per cent in their favour, would you take it?”
“Twenty per cent? Attractive. Probably too attractive. Iron Casket does not deal with the desperate nor the underhand.”
“But you are not Pranik & Sguirres. What would be a good reason to offer such a deal?”
“In tulips? None I can think of off-hand. Out of the Brahnzhever? At the moment there are more than a few people wanting to shift money abroad fast and willing to lose on the rate if it looks clean at the other end. There’s a major house-cleaning going on at the top.”
“Excellent. So the bill is in Brahnak spades payable in beech-marks. Here’s what I propose.”
Seyastrik listened as Gherrit laid out his new scheme, suggested some alterations and the two spent the next glasses of wine refining the plan. Seyastrik took a swallow.
“It has a very good chance of success, although 50,000 is not enough temptation. What if I put in an equal share and handle the last steps? In the first element the risk is all yours. Are you sure you can carry it off? If you fail you are likely dead.”
“I’m just a messenger, remember?” Gherrit told him. “I think I can play that part and it’s essential I try if the rest is to work.”
Seyastrik raised his glass. “I salute your courage, my boy.”
* * * *
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Gherrit had been told stories of Mer Ammery from earliest youth, of its Great Harbour, of its Houses whose scheming House-Mothers competed with purse and blade, of the Mazere - that street of coloured stones and old trees where the duellists strutted. The memories welled up to make his stomach flutter as his ship approached its berth. His family had come from the small town of Zereia in the western Archipelago but his grandfather’s tales of there had mostly been about the excellent fishing. Mer Ammery was the heart and pride of the Archipelago. If this scheme worked Gherrit would come back and spend all the time he wanted exploring its sights. For now he must keep moving.
Although Merllan customs officials were famously thorough, as a passenger with little baggage Gherrit was of scant interest to them. He was ticked off the ship’s passenger list and let to go about his business. The first document in the bundle given him in Daruz Alman was a brief set of directions (and the rest was a lot of legalese that amounted to nothing, according to Seyastrik). He was instructed to present himself at Thousand Islands Trading, who would arrange passage to Freizean. Gherrit asked a wharf-guard for directions, paid over two of the small cubes of coloured glass the Merllan used for small change for the hire of a lift-pole, hoisted his luggage into the net and set off, doing his best to ignore the displays of ether-craft on every side.
Thousand Islands Trading had an office in a side street well back from the harbour. The sign was static, the door inert and the frontage modest. Gherrit was familiar with businesses like this in Daruz Alman, firms that had found a small, often barely profitable niche and survived by never trying to compete too hard. He tethered his lift-pole, picked up bag and chest and pushed the door open. A patch of fur on the ceiling gave a sad hoot and the woman at the lone desk laid down her stylus and looked up. Gherrit introduced himself and stated his purpose – he was a courier here to exchange documents with House Keinahuar of Freizean Canton. He understood Thousand Islands had been engaged to provide onward passage. He had notified them by letter of a delay and his new arrival date two weeks previous.
“You will have to speak to Director Hausier. He is not here at the moment. Can you come back mid-afternoon?”
They agreed a time and Gherrit left. He pulled his chin in indecision. Should he find lodging? Towing his luggage about was awkward and surely they would not depart today? Go for lunch? He was rich enough to dine at Sulei’s, famous far and wide for its fish dishes. Of course lunch at Sulei’s was out of the question as he had no booking, but there would be others nearly as good. On second thought, eating at an expensive restaurant would be out of character for a lowly courier. In the end he found a reasonable hotel, had a perfectly fine lunch, a walk along the Mazere, a pleasant stroll through a grove dedicated to Avoko of the Forest and and returned to Thousand Islands Trading in mid-afternoon.
Director Hausier was tall, stooped, long-armed and gloomy. If he had orange hair the resemblance to a depressed gibbon would be unmistakable (the comparison came to mind after seeing the gibbons in Avoko’s grove). As it was he had thinning dark hair and a straggly moustache. Gherrit again introduced himself and his errand. Hausier scrabbled through papers.
“Here we are. I received your message. The earliest I can arrange passage is two days hence. Does that suit or can you swim?”
Gherrit ignored the jocularity, took note of the details and departed. Two days would not upset his plans.
* * * *
Messer Pranik rolled his seal across the bottom of a bill and placed to to one side. The next document was a sheet of green paper, folded and sealed with black wax. A touch of his ring made the wax vanish, another touch and words crawled onto the page. Pranik read it twice, then called for his partner. When Sguirres strolled through the connecting door Pranik handed him the sheet and waited. His partner’s eyebrows rose as he read.
“One hundred and two thousand at that rate? We make near twenty. Only fifty days too. Another one desperate to move their money before the auditors arrive. What’s the catch?”
“The last requirement. They are desperate but not trusting, which is understandable given the lack of real names. Account 412 with Green Sea, Account 563 at Iron Casket. Pfft. The hold is for the full sum at par – it would tie up all but a few thousand of our account.”
Sguirres considered, one hand idly twirling the dangling golden cord at his waist. “We have, what, seven or eight bills coming up in the period?”
Pranik brought out a ledger and the two pored over the entries. “We can raise a few quibbles and defer on these three, and Jerrine needs the money too much to complain, so we can pay him late. These three together only come to four three. Then it’s just twenty-four days.”
“And if something comes in?” queried Pranik.
“We argue and delay. At worst we pay the peons a few days late. Some of them need to skip a meal.”
“I don’t suppose we could, ah, fudge the hold?” Sguirres mused. Pranik rolled his eyes. Sguirres liked to test ideas but this was too far.
“With Shipwright’s as the guarantor? Do you want to move a hundred leagues back of north Kaber or wait for their assurance team to call?”
“Point taken. If we refuse the bill and it comes back we make a measly few hundred. If we don’t then we make twenty thousand plus. There’s no chance it couldn’t be some kind of trap?”
Pranik thought this unlikely. Had not Green Sea been involved in the Brahnak trade in exiles and, unlike themselves, not clever enough to use proxies? That trade had been closed but the proceeds were still there – until the authorities laid hands on them. Any official effort would surely try to prevent this money leaving the country if they could, not forward it.
“Keeping money out of government hands is always the right thing to do,” remarked Sguirres. “We should take this bill.”
Pranik concurred and undertook to send a response the next day. Sguirres was at the door when he turned to ask “Any word on our messenger to the Archipelago, that boy, Jitti, was it?”
Pranik turned over some papers, picked up a green slip. “Nearly forgot. This squirt came in from Thousand Islands this morning.”
SfotW delayed BrahnkerC. Messenger rebooked. Expected 26.7. Onward 28.7.
Sguirres handed the slip back with “Nothing to worry about then,” and left.