No sooner had the packet Fervent tied up at Dtlag than Gherrit was striding down the wharf, He had directions and his Haghar was adequate. Through the South Watergate, up Not-A-Virgin Street, turn into Purple Lane, cross Old Surprise Square and there it was – the Dtlag branch of the Association, the combination club and professional organisation of magicians everywhere. The red brick frontage was woven with coloured lines in Gherrit’s vision, tangling thickly around the doors and windows, while a separate knot-work adorned the small landing platform to one side. Gherrit mounted the three steps, entered the plain hall beyond and stated his name and purpose to a bronze lobster on a stand. It twirled its eye-stalks then directed him to an office a few steps away. Gherrit found its high-pitched warble hard to understand and had it repeat twice.
The office was a clutter of paperwork staffed by an older woman in a faded robe. Gherrit gave his name and then went on his careful Haghar.
“I am a courier employed by Pranik & Sguirres of Daruz Alman, just come from Brahnker City. I am charged with delivering news of the death of the Mage Saensei Saore, who I understand to be a member of the Association. If you can confirm this is the appropriate branch I have some related business.”
The woman blinked. “This is sad news. One moment.” She scanned a shelf, hauled down a large volume, turned pages, ran her finger down the entries. “Yes, he is one of our members and even paid up to date.”
“My condolences,” offered Gherrit, although she seemed more resigned than upset. “I am carrying this news because there are a few outstanding matters of business.”
“Oh, then you had better see Siakel. I’ll mark this entry and then take you to him.”
Siakel occupied another cluttered office on the first floor, a thin man, rumpled, a smear of ink on one cheek, skin pale, dark hair in an untidy queue. Gherrit recognised a fellow numbers-artist at once and paid careful attention to his aura as likely to resemble his own. He repeated his news and Siakel cocked his head.
“You have official confirmation of the death?”
“ I do. Here is a notice attested by a judicial witness of Brahnker City.”
“How did he die?”
“I do not have the details. I understand he met with a mishap on the borders of the Hansippif Wild and it was possible to retrieve only a few items, among them this book.” Here Gherrit produced the battered volume and laid it on the desk. Siakel read the notice and glanced through the book.
“Sad but not unusual,” he commented. “Our more advanced members can go a bit strange with the years, risking the Wilds in search of closer sympathy with the ether. It ends in death more often than not. You mentioned some other matters?”
Gherrit chose his words carefully. “Saore dealt in cash and there is an outstanding balance. I am tasked to confirm his heirs and bank details.”
“I can check.” Siakel spoke to a silver teapot, grimaced when it whistled loudly, lifted the lid and gave some orders. They waited in silence until the teapot whistled again, Siakel lifted the lid and listened.
“He left a life-ribbon with us which confirms the death, but no will.”
“Then I must speak to his bank,” said Gherrit with a put-upon sigh. He knew from Seyastrik that under Haghar law the Association was residuary legatee of magicians who died intestate. Siakel would be anticipating a windfall.
“I have those details here,” Siakel said and provided them after a short search. Gherrit had another request, which Siakel was happy to oblige. He anticipated that his next stop would take a few hours, but that should still leave time to visit the bank before closing.
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The offices of Green Sea Mercantile were altogether more imposing than the Association. Caryatids representing the wealth of land and sea upheld the portico, marble inlays covered the floor of the main room and absorbing herbs over each teller’s window ensured privacy. Gherrit’s mention of a death and a legacy secured him a meeting with a manager. He laid out the notice of death from Brahnker City and a similar affirmation from the Association together with their statement that they held no will.
“I understand the late Saore had an account – number S417 with you?” The manager nodded and Gherrit read recognition of the name in his aura.
“I have instructions relating to the estate that require me first to establish whether the Mage Saore left a will or otherwise had heirs. Can you tell me whether his account had a nominated beneficiary?” As at the Association, the manager was neither saddened not really surprised. An underling provided liani while the file was found, the manager checked the papers and shook his head.
“Nothing here.”
“Then this writ from the Brahnzhever Court of Theological Equity applies in full. I have a notarised translation into Haghar here for your benefit, together with a translation of the court’s judgement. I also have the seal for the account and a warrant attesting the validity of the court order here in the Haghar League, duly notarised here at Dtlag.”
That did set the manager aback. “You are saying that all the monies in the account are yours?”
“They are, as provided in the writ, and unless natural heirs come forward. You will see that the writ comes into force on presentation, which I have just done. From this time forward all transactions need my approval.”
“Hmmf. You are very certain of your case.” The ‘for one so young’ was left implied.
Gherrit kept a still face. “I have been employed in finance for several years and in this case also had the benefit of legal advice from Iron Casket Guaranty, particularly as to the court’s recognition of a transaction in a hostile Wild.”
“Iron Casket has an interest? And a Wild?” There was a flicker of concern visible only to Gherrit’s inner sight.
“Iron Casket has an interest in the outcome. Messer Seyastrik was kind enough to provide me this letter requesting your cooperation in this matter. The Wild in question is the Hansippif.”
“We will have to check with our lawyers and test the validity of these documents,” returned the manager. Gherrit thought Green Sea would yield to the demand, as not even a bank would risk annoying a Wild.
“Certainly. I would appreciate that you do so without delay as I have meetings in Brahnker City late next week.”
Gherrit’s guess was confirmed when he was offered an appointment four days hence. Green Sea wanted to transfer the risk as quickly as they could. He left with a spring in his steps. Saore’s account might hold as much as a thousand League tulips, which would be a great help to his plans. The steamed bun stuffed with pickled vegetables he had eaten earlier was long gone and he was looking forward to dinner. Seyastrik had recommended the Overlook Inn, where Fremin had gone ahead to take rooms. It was a short walk, at the end of which he found a rambling structure of two stories on a rise above the harbour. Gherrit had expected Seyastrik to favour something grander than this and liked its slightly rustic charm immediately. The clerk confirmed his room and a wander around found Fremin in the garden at the back morosely contemplating the view over the water. Gherrit could see no immediate cause; the late afternoon light gleamed on the ripples, the shipping tied up or lying out was surely of interest and the light wind soughing in the trees soothing.
“Why so glum?”
Fremin tapped the cover of the book in front of her. “I have to return this to my order.”
Gherrit shrugged. “That does not seem too hard.”
“You don’t understand,” Fremin told him. “It’s two hundred years overdue and I borrowed it without permission.”
“Does the fine compound or is it a flat rate?” asked Gherrit, then added “Just joking. I’ll come with you as witness if you like. In the meantime, how about some cake and wine?”
“Might as well enjoy life while I can,” sighed Fremin. “Can we get those coconut cakes dusted with sea-spice?”