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Just A Messenger
Tea, Scarves and Money

Tea, Scarves and Money

14. Tea, Scarves and Money

Gherrit took a seat in Joseina’s Tea-House, ordered a pot of Rai Black and a plate of vegetable buns and opened the morning edition of Almanie Commerce Unfolded.

Tsitiev Loan Over-Subscribed

Lady Orchid welcomed the good reception by the financial community of Tsitiev’s latest fund-raising. The loan of 200,000 beech-marks at four per cent was over-subscribed by 43,215 beech-marks. Allocations will be adjusted pro-rata …

Gherrit moved on.

Messers Jherinkus and Haaszen Step Down at Provisioner’s Consortium

After thirty-eight years in commerce the two senior partners have decided that it is time to turn to other things. Messer Jherinkus is well known for his many successes in breeding and training racing fish and will now be able to devote more time to his passion. Messer Haaszen has entered for next year’s All-Meter Poetry Display …

Gherrit snorted. Both partners had been censured for their part in the trade in Brahnak exiles.

Partners Missing as Guardians Show Interest

Messers Sguirres and Pranik have been fixtures of our financial community for over two decades. If the sometimes controversial pair have had their ups and downs, it is rare that they miss a day in the office. Yet neither has been seen for the last several days and they are ‘not available’ to inquirers at their office and at their homes. As outstanding transactions – some for considerable amounts – continue to rise concern is growing among creditors and counter-parties. Messer Pranik’s house-bond, noted socialite Evsian Msela, avers ignorance as to her bond’s whereabouts but is sure that he is serving great Daruz Alman as he ever has.

We hesitate to connect this turn of events to another that has been noted recently: the rumour that the Order of the Guardian Avengers has taken a close interest in the private dealings of the two partners. This journal disclaims knowledge of any action that would justify such an interest ...

Gherrit read on but the rest of the article added little of substance. He sipped his tea while he thought. If the two had run to the Procuracy it would be public knowledge. Had the two really fled? He could not imagine Messer Pranik running to the Wilds pursued by Guardians and Grey-Cloaks. It would be a stout strider that carried the partner at any speed. Had the two some secret means of escape, such as the vegetable-powered sky-wagons slowly gaining acceptance in the Haghar lands*? Where would they run to? How did this affect the bill Seyastrik had offered them? He would finish his breakfast and then visit the offices of Iron Casket.

Gherrit had just turned on to Old Tailor’s Row when he heard his name called. There making her way towards him was the accountant Heini, his friend and fellow-sufferer under Jurd’s eye. Her smile of greeting was a flicker over general worry. Still, as she came up she complimented him.

“When did you get back? The trip has done you good – you are browner, straighter and, I don’t know, look more confident? Anyway, I’m glad you are back, although you should know you are out of a job.”

Gherrit clasped her arm and suggested she tell him more over a cup of tea. A stall nearby provided stools and tea, Heini took a steadying sip and unfolded her tale. The sandpapered nerves of the commercial community had reacted swiftly to the rumours about Sguirres & Pranik. Creditors had flocked to the office demanding immediate payment, protesting loudly when denied. Jurd had called in guards amid shoving and shouting, then the builder Jerrine had arrived brandishing a writ of nonfeasance and called on the City Fiscal. The office was closed, the staff sent home, the books seized and auditors were swarming over everything.

“As it happens I gave notice the day after I got back. I made a bit of money on the trip and don’t need to hear Jurd’s voice again,” Gherrit told her.

“I’m glad for you but the rest of us are worried. We are owed pay and this scandal will make it hard to find another job.”

Gherrit had no idea how things would turn out and no wish to reveal his part, yet could not resist offering a crumb of hope. “I have a contact in Iron Casket who may know something. I’ll let you know.”

Heini gave him her thanks, adding that she hoped something came up soon for the quarter-day and rent was in two days.

Iron Casket was nearby on Black Frog Street. Gherrit mentioned his name to a clerk and was conducted at once to the senior partner, a gaunt woman with an unfortunate taste in scarves.

“Seyastrik messaged me to expect you. Will you have tea?”

Gherrit declined the offer and asked how affairs stood with regard to Sguirres & Pranik “For Seyastrik and I have a considerable sum outstanding with them and we did not anticipate they would flee the city.”

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The partner adjusted her scarf (fuzzy wool in bright yellow blotched with dark brown). “As to that, Seyastrik himself sent that he is arriving here tomorrow. Just as well, I might add, for the Fiscal has called a meeting of senior creditors and interested counter-parties for the day after.”

“I met one of the employees this morning. Rents are due in two days and they are owed wages.”

“Your concern does you credit. The Fiscal’s office will issue tokens of forbearance if asked, delaying rents until this matter is settled. They are mong the creditors listed by the Fiscal and will have first claim on any assets, although these are few and the liabilities large; here is the list. Msela is claiming the value of her missing jewellery against the firm and Jerrine has entered for mental anguish.”

Gherrit checked the totals: the assets were listed as coming altogether to less than 10,000 beech-marks, while the opposing liabilities amounted to just under 150,000. Had he lost all that he had earned in the Wild? If we were richer by far than when he had departed the loss would still be a blow. Maybe Seyastrik would give him a position.

* * * *

Seyastrik was as flamboyantly dressed as ever in a blue over-robe, round red cap and striped hose. His choice of dinner venue was nearly as eccentric; Gherrit joined him in the back garden of a shack overlooking the Small Harbour. “The dishes here rival Sulei’s and the staff are not as snobby,” Seyastrik told him, and indeed the meal was superb. Grilled sardines were followed by bouillabaisse and Gherrit ate and drank while Seyastrik talked.

“There was clearly more afoot than we realised, for Pranik and Sguirres would not have fled if money alone was the issue. Folk of their sort always have some hidden. No, we erred in thinking the Procuracy would be their refuge. Still, there is a way through. The Fiscal will want this sorted quickly, for financial contagion spreads faster than the Ape-Breath. The options are to take the firm into ownership by the City and wind it down as claims come due or sell it as is, the buyer accepting all risks. If the first, the City will impose a levy on all firms to cover any deficit; hardly popular, although it reminds us of the need to monitor each other. Also, claims will be paid as money comes in, so some will not see their money for months.

“As for a sale, politics keeps Shipwright’s from expanding here in Daruz Alman, the Provisioner’s Consortium is still trying to scrape free of scandal and Green Sea Mercantile is taking losses in Reghen. There are other smaller players – the Artisans’ Trust, Almanie Funds, Skelit’s. I doubt any will want to take a gamble on finding the partners and wringing the cash out of them.”

“Is our money gone?” asked Gherrit.

Seyastrik was scraping the last of the bouillabaisse from his bowl with a piece of steamed bun. “Why don’t you come with me to tomorrow’s meeting and see.”

* * * *

The meeting was in a simply-furnished room on the third floor of the Almainie Treasury Building. Gherrit’s previous visits had not risen above the wickets on the ground floor where clerks received documents. Seyastrik swept up the stairs with aplomb, Gherrit trailing behind, and took a seat at the long table without hesitation. A tilt of his head directed Gherrit to one of the chairs lining the wall behind. Others filed in, almost all serious middle-aged men and women, the few younger ones taking chairs with Gherrit. Places at the table were sorted after some genteel competition, papers laid out, nods exchanged across the polished wood. Gherrit’s anticipated murmur about the weather was forestalled by the entrance of the Fiscal and his aides, all in the red and silver of their office. He took the seat at the head, rapped a glass block and announced firmly that the meeting was now on record.

The Fiscal began with a brief update on the investigation. The missing partners had been traced to the town of Breve Fliene, where they had procured the services of at least three magicians. After that their movements were not known ‘but we shall keep looking, messers.’ The papers before them showed the current best understanding of the financial situation (the sheets produced muted hisses and groans). The Fiscal said that the City wanted a speedy resolution of this affair and the choices were to take it under City administration and pay claimants as money came in from a general levy or find a buyer willing to settle the debts and recoup from the partners when found.

“When will they be found? And where have they put the money? Such a sum in specie would burden a train of humpers. Have they a ship?” the representative of Green Sea Mercantile wanted to know. The Fiscal confessed that he had no answer to any of these questions.

“When will I be paid? That pair have been putting me off for weeks and my business is suffering. Some of you will be living without a roof unless my money is forthcoming,” exploded Jerrine the builder.

The reply was that if a buyer could be found then the City would pay claims as money was recovered or as levies were assessed and paid. The repeated mention of levies caused another round of hisses and murmurs. After more fruitless discussion the Fiscal put the question.

“Well, messers. Are there any here willing to buy the firm?”

There was a prolonged and uneasy silence. The Fiscal was about to speak when Seyastrik raised his hand.

“I assume that the City will guarantee clear possession, as is usual in these cases?”

The Fiscal gave a terse “It will.”

“And at what price would the firm be valued?”

“There is the building,” began the Fiscal.

“Mortgaged,” said Seyastrik.

“And, of course, goodwill ..”

Seyastrik merely raised an eyebrow. The Fiscal glared at him. “Is Iron Casket actually willing to buy or are you amusing yourself?”

“At the right price – say one hundred beech-marks.”

“S&P has 3,500 in their accounts,” protested the woman from Green Sea Mercantile.

“And 147,000 in debts,” Seyastrik reminded her.

“If you bought when would I be paid?” asked Jerrine.

“Iron Casket will pay all sums when due. In your case, that would be the day the sale is approved.”

“Then you have my vote young man, despite the cravat,” said Jerrine and three other large creditors joined him. The Fiscal looked at Green Sea Mercantile, the Provisioner’s Consortium and Almanie Funds and each gave a small shake of the head.

“The City will proceed to negotiate terms with Iron Casket Guarantee. Thank you messers. We will keep you informed.”

The assembly gathered their papers and filed out, Seyastrik pausing to arrange a time with the Fiscal.

Seyastrik kept Gherrit waiting until they were at the offices of Iron Casket. The senior partner flipped her scarf (purple and red) when told the news and dashed out to round up lawyers and accountants. Seyastrik poured himself and Gherrit tots from her stash of apricot liqueur and raised to Gherrit.

“Congratulations. You have your wealth back. As the purchase will put a heavy burden on the people here I suggest we each contribute to a one-third share in whatever we call the new S&G, distributed on merit among the staff.”

“That sounds fair. Yet how do you – we – clear so much debt?” asked Gherrit.

“As owners, we protest the bill from Brahnker City, have it endorsed by a notary and claim from Shipwright’s on its return. That bill on Iron Casket they sent with you appeared as a liability on the books, so we withdraw it and write that down. Together, those cover any immediate needs and reduces the liability to a manageable sum. In fact we will be clear if Msela’s suit fails, and I expect it will be thrown out. Then we have been looking for better offices here - S&G’s will suit nicely, and the freehold will save us rent. If Jerrine and a few others stay with the new firm it will prosper – what should we call it?”

“umm, Iron Guardian Mutual?” ventured Gherrit and Seyastrik guffawed. Then he turned abruptly serious.

“Your wits and nerves have brought you through danger, you have endured the Wild and shown considerable creativity in financial matters. How do you want to build on these achievements?”

Gherrit did not answer until he had checked within himself as to both his feelings and his rational wants. “Numbers and money are my craft, and I desire to progress in my craft. Yet there is much else to learn and I do not want to be confined to a narrow path in life. I would also like to travel more. Is that all too much to ask?’

“Not at all. Iron Casket could benefit from people with a good grasp of the business, an eye for opportunities and a readiness to travel. Our manager here is – if you can overlook the scarves – an excellent mentor. Why not take a position as her assistant for a couple of years and see where we are after that?”

Daruz Alman was Gherrit’s home and Seyastrik was back to Brahnker City in a week, to live as a firebird among swamp-hens (as he put it). Gherrit knew without question that he was not ready to take on the responsibilities of an active partner in the firm, yet letting money accumulate while doing nothing to earn it did not sit well with him. Here was an honourable way forward.

“It is a good offer, and I accept with thanks.”

*See The Big Score. The Magician Chenizei’s business is steadily improving.