The Selm’s Friend was an ordinary Green Sea merchanter. To the maritime eye her origin in the shipyards of Reghen was obvious in the rounded stern, the placement of her mizzen and the long stem beneath the bowsprit. These details were lost on most of the passengers, more concerned with the comfort of her cabins and the quality of the food. Gherrit merely noted her design before boarding, stowed his meagre luggage and made his way back on deck. Once again he was a second-class passenger, sharing a cabin and taking his meals in the wardroom. Whistles blew, bells rang, cables creaked as the ship was eased away from the wharf, yards were hauled up, sails spread and sheeted home and she made her stately way across the crowded Grand Harbour. Once on the open sea the Selm’s Friend spread more canvas and heeled over to take the lively wind on her port beam, bound for Pelsie, the Rai Harbours and only then great Daruz Alman.
Gherrit let his plans and hopes slip away to lose himself in the endless blue of wave and sky. The sea was liberating and calming. He let his thought drift back to the beginning of this voyage and before, to his penurious life as a clerk. His memories were blurred and all tinged with the grey taste of despairing drudgery. Gherrit blinked; had he really been that depressed? He could now see that he was. Should he thank Pranik and perhaps Sthirothh also for jolting him from his torpor? He resolved never to return to that life, smiled as an errant wave threw spray into his face and wondered what would be served at dinner.
The table at the wardroom was nearly full when he came in. A steward conducted him to a seat at the end of the board, ladled a clear fish soup into his bowl and offered beer or water. Gherrit chose beer, took a sip and turned to his neighbour.
“Yunierkiz Gherrit, returning to Daruz Alman,” he introduced himself.
The other was a well-built man, conservatively dressed in shirt and jerkin, plain but of good cloth, dark hair cut short, a single pearl at one ear. He acknowledged Gherrit with an easy smile.
“Rhevre se tiene Keinahuar, also bound for Daruz Alman. From your accent it is your home, I believe.”
Gherrit masked his surprise by inhaling a drop of soup the wrong way. When he had finished coughing he was able to keep his reply in the same easy tone.
“Indeed sir. I was brought up there. Some of my family was from the Archipelago.”
“Visiting kin?”
“The opportunity did not come my way, as my business took me only to Mer Ammery. Is House Keinahuar far from there?”
“Not too far. You would not have heard of it – a small place and not much regarded.”
The soup was followed by sea-fruits served with pilaf and thin slices of pickled jellyfish. Gherrit and Rhevre compared the sights of Daruz Alman and Mer Ammery. Gherrit declined and Rhevre accepted a glass of liqueur to go with the sweet wafers that concluded the meal. When Gherrit mentioned that he had recently been in Brahnker City the talk turned to the current political turmoil in the Brahnzhever, to trade and therewith on the standings of the Houses of the Archipelago.
“Is House Keinahuar much affected?” asked Gherrit.
“Not at all,” came the easy reply. “We are a small House and frankly in somewhat poor standing at the moment. I hope to alter that for the better.”
Gherrit wished him good fortune in his endeavours, excused himself and went on deck. The sun was setting over the Gulf, laying out a road of dancing orange light across the water. A path that led to where only scant weeks ago he had sculled around in the night, despairing. Those events were a caution not linger on deck and be sure to be below before nightfall. What of Rhevre? He had shown no sign of recognising Gherrit but then he supposed the Grey Cloaks were practised in subterfuge. Coincidence? He might be aboard the Selm’s Friend for the same reason as Gherrit – that it was the first ship clearing Mer Ammery for Daruz Alman. Or it might be that House Keinahuar had fallen so far that its people lived elsewhere and knew nothing of the Grey Cloaks. At least he was not sharing a cabin with the fellow.
Gherrit’s cabin-mate was an elderly wood-crafter returning to Pelsie after visiting the Archipelago for the first time. He complained about Merllan food and manners and when seated next to Gherrit at meals told him at length about each of his seven grandchildren, all talented beyond the ordinary. Between him and an equally garrulous clock-maker Gherrit’s meals were relaxingly tedious. On the fifth day the ship made the town of Pelsie in Reghen. Gherrit’s purse now allowed him to lodge ashore and take in the sights. He spent an afternoon trying to follow the cryptic directions offered by the stones in the Hall of One Hundred Voices, watched the launch of a three-master at the shipyards, sampled the local cuisine and commissioned a tailor to make him an elegant green jacket in fine wool.
When the Selm’s Friend departed it was laden with wool, herbals, steel bars and barrels of a liquid drawn from the reed-beds of the Terquine River. This latter would go to the alchemists of Daruz Alman for the making of strong glues. The grandfather was replaced in the lower bunk by one of three youths returning from a walking tour along the Chill River, while the wardroom meals now included a Rai dealer in leather and hides. His round brown face and stocky build reminded Gherrit of the forthright magician who had left the Seeking Forgiveness on the Waters at Dnangh. What was her name? Chrysanthemum.
On the night before their arrival at Arts Ertsak, first of the cluster of small ports known as the Rai Harbours, Gherrit was seated next to the Rai and across from Rhevre. The talk turned to monies, bills and exchange, the Rai complaining of the commissions extorted by his bank. Gherrit’s contribution led to a compliment: “You are very well-informed on these matters, young sir.”
Gherrit made a small bow. “You are kind to say so. It is merely that I have had the benefit of good teachers and some years experience.”
Arts Ertsak was a collection of warehouses fronting a bay with a single pier with a road winding up the hill behind to the walls of the town proper. Gherrit watched with interest as a boat came out with a line. The ship’s turnstone pulled away to bring in a stout cable, this was made fast and a winch on shore began to draw her in to the wharf. Rhevre joined him at the rail, leaning there watching the cable spurt water as it tightened. Gherrit gave him a polite nod and glanced to check if the captain was still standing beside the binnacle, flat officer’s cap square on her grey curls. Her presence reassured him.
Rhevre began without preamble. “Not much to look at is it? Nonetheless I find myself obliged to leave the ship here, as a friend in Pelsie has asked me to look after some business among the Meretz Rai. I have been puzzling on how to do that and also do as I am charged in Daruz Alman without undue delay. I will be direct: your talk with our Rai fellow-passenger gave me an idea. But first may I ask what firm you travel for?”
“I am currently acting on behalf of Iron Casket Guarantee of Brahnker City and Daruz Alman,” replied Gherrit.
“To your credit, as they are widely known for probity. I imagine you would be acquainted with many of the financial concerns of Daruz Alman?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Some, but by no means all,” Gherrit said.
“If you know of Pranik & Sguirres Partners then you could do me a favour by delivering a letter. I would pay the usual courier fee of course.”
“If it is just a document and nothing else I am happy to do so,” Gherrit told him after a moment’s thought. If it was anything else it was going over the side, weighted.
“It is no more than a single sheet,” Rhevre assured him and later handed over a sealed envelope addressed to Messers Pranik & Sguirres - Personal. Gherrit weighed it in his hand as he watched Rhevre stroll down the gangway with a single bag. It certainly felt like only one or two sheets of paper. House Keinahuar could only have one reason to deal with Pranik & Sguirres. Was this a receipt, a demand or a threat? All would serve his purpose. He tucked the letter into the inside pocket of his coat and asked the steward for a mug of tea.
* * * *
Daruz Alman was as always, bright, busy, loud, all the things that earned it the epithet great. Gherrit revelled in the noise and bustle and the sound of his native tongue everywhere. The Selm’s Friend docked shortly after sunrise and even at that early hour the streets were lively. After finding a room in the East Wharf District his first call was at a bath-house. Shipboard hygiene had been adequate but not luxurious. A long soak and a good meal bolstered his spirits and took up the time until the banking and commercial houses opened. His friends at Pranik & Sguirres would be bent to their figuring, watched over by the the ever-vigilant Jurd. He pulled on his fine new coat and went to visit the offices of Iron Casket and then the local chapter of the Guardian Avengers.
When Gherrit set off after breakfast the next morning he was determined but uncertain. How would Pranik & Sguirres greet his return? He had lain awake for a while trying different scenes in his mind, then let his fancies lie and gone to sleep. Now he strolled up Old Tailors Row, turned left on to Scat Street and along to the fourth building with the blue ceramic name-plate beside the door. Up the familiar stairs, past the ante-room and on up to the open space before the offices of the partners. Gherrit expected sour-faced Brende to demand why he was here. He did not expect Brende to be turned away from the entrance listening open-mouthed as muffled yelling came from Sguirres’ office. Gherrit slipped two envelopes from his jacket and placed them in the basket, then made a noise of polite enquiry. Brende swivelled around so fast he nearly fell.
“Who? What? Who are ..? Young Gherrit? What are you doing here? Get downstairs before I call Jurd.”
“Please let the partners know that I am back from Mer Ammery. They may want a report on my trip.”
Brende took a moment to process this, then “Oh. They are rather preoccupied at the moment. They will let you know if they need to speak with you.” Behind him the yelling increased in volume.
“Certainly. A message to Joseina’s Tea-house in Erstwhile Lane will find me.” With that he left, leaving Brende sputtering. The man stood a moment and then hurried to the head of the stairs to see Gherrit turning on to the street. He scowled, went back to his desk to pick up the papers, hesitated again then crossed to rap at Sguirres’ door. The yelling ceased, there was a pause and Sguirres called him in.
“Papers, messers, and young Gherrit was here. He asked if you wished to hear of his voyage.”
“What? That boy? Where is he?” The two partners were standing in self-conscious attitudes before Sguirres’ spacious desk.
“He has left, messers. He did say where he could be contacted; shall I send a messenger?’
“Oh, not now. Here, give me the papers and leave us alone.”
Brende carefully crossed the carpet, placed the documents on the desk and left smartly. Barely had the door closed when Pranik renewed their discussion.
“You tell me not to worry! Not to worry when Guardian bitches loiter outside my home! Not to worry when Guardians follow us through the streets!”
Sguirres went to pat his fingers but refrained when he caught Pranik’s expression.
“I will say it again. If the Guardians had any real evidence they would be here with writs. They do not and hope to scare us into some false move. We document their activities for a few days and then issue a demand on them for harassment. Now let us turn to business. Jerrine is becoming a nuisance with his threats and protests. Perhaps this is another from him.”
He picked up the first sheet, unfolded it and read.
Messers Pranik and Sguirres
Herewith my resignation from your employ with immediate effect, as allowed by City Ordinance 37 of the Year 754, which provides that employer or employee may terminate their employment where either party has put the other at serious risk of injury, death or irreparable damage to reputation. My recent voyages on your behalf have exposed me to all three of these harms.
The same Ordinance provides that an employee may seek compensation and damages in these circumstances. I reserve my right to do so.
Yunierkiz Gherrit.
Sguirres purpled as he read and finally exploded. “The insolent pup! ‘Damages!’ He’ll be lucky to find work cleaning sewers when we’re done. We’ll have him in court for the clothes off his back.”
“In court, where he can tell his tale. All his tale,” Pranik observed.
Sguirres cursed, then “So we’ll have our friends in the Archipelago break his legs.”
“The same friends that are not happy?” queried Pranik, giving in to temptation.
Sguirres threw his hands in the air, snatched up the envelope and extracted a single sheet of thick paper. The purple of his face faded to white, he tottered around to his chair and collapsed.
“What? What is it?” demanded Pranik. Sguirres passed him the sheet.
Messers Sguirres and Pranik
As the item delivered in payment of your debt was not as specified and its performance resulted in considerable damage, we demand recompense of the original amount owed together with compensation for the delays and expenses incurred and restitution for harm inflicted. All together, these amount to 37,112 Merllan gulls. As reasonable people, we will settle for 37,000 gulls only.
If this sum is not paid within 7 days, viz by the 30th of the current month, we will take what measures are needed to collect.
K
“They can’t be serious! Seven days to pay such a sum! We have to talk to them, make them see reason.” Pranik read the letter again. “Wait! Some writing is becoming visible at the bottom of the sheet. His face too whitened as the words unfolded before his eyes and he thrust the sheet back.
“To avoid futile protests and attempts to evade payment this sheet has delivered an agent whose effects range from pain to death. A first reminder of the urgent nature of our request will arrive within the day.”
As they both watched horrified the words vanished letter by letter. Sguirres pounded the desk with his fist. “We are not merchants of great Daruz Alman for nothing. Let them try – all of them: Guardians, Grey Cloaks, that beggarly boy. I will not yield.”
Pranik, previously all anxiety to Sguirres’ calm, now confronted the situation head on. “If we go the Procuracy they will strip us of everything we own, and even the Procuracy may be no sure refuge from the Grey Cloaks.”
Sguirres lifted his head to glare at him. “What would you have us do?”
“First, see what we can raise. We have a few thousand unencumbered, I believe, and a thousand or more in the Deep Account. For all their blather a substantial down-payment may hold them off for the days we need.”
“Bah! A paltry few thousand will not be enough. But we need to stall for just twenty-seven days until that bill falls due.”
Pranik pointed to the letter. “That’s at least twenty more days than we have. It will take several days for the money to reach our accounts.”
“I’ll think of something,” Sguirres told him.
Pranik looked down at him. “You had better be quick. I am going home. Msela is out of town for a week and her jewellery may add a thousand more.”
Sguirres merely grunted, head in hands. He was till in this pose when Brende asked if he wished lunch delivered. He just waved a hand, his mind still circling through amounts and dates, creditors and debtors, creating and discarding the same schemes. He ate the spiced beef and noodles Brende brought without tasting them, covered sheets of paper with figures only to tear them up, stood watching the day fade staring at the small park across the street waiting for inspiration to strike. He was still there when Brende left for the day, for he knew – knew – that there was a way that preserved life and fortune if only he could find the right sequence of moves. The noise of the frame-jockeys and lowly one-braids trooping down the stairs was of no interest, as were Jurd’s methodical steps as he closed up for the night. Sguirres was alone with his fruitless thoughts when the pain struck.
It came first as a streak of agony from shoulder to hip, crossing the chest in a trail of fire. Sguirres gasped and reeled back from the window, caught his foot on the carpet and sat down on the floor with a thump. The next hit came as he was in this posture, setting him rolling in agony, throat tight. Another bolt followed and another; his squeaks and groans muffled as he bit the cloth of his gown. When at last the hurt ceased he lay there quivering, drenched in sweat, eyes leaking tears, fingernails bent back from clawing at the boards. His every nerve twinged. He climbed to his feet with the arthritic slowness of a centenarian, his quavering fingers found the cord that un-shuttered the glowstone and he slumped into his chair. It was near midnight before he found the strength to totter down to the partner’s private entrance. Luck found him a late sedan chair and a ride home and he did not care that the chairman charged him triple. All the way the words ‘within seven days’ ricocheted around his skull. And one of them was tomorrow’s holiday.