The Associates turned up at breakfast not simply dressed immaculately, but inhabiting their roles with the natural ease they had spent their life searching for. If the Expert wanted them to kill, they would kill. If he wanted them to die, they would die. But they would do it with the grace and poise of those truly born to the Xia blood.
“Today is the first day of our plan. Right now, Jerri Nomeki knows we are here, and knows we are up to something, but dosen’t know what. We can safely assume that anything we say in a room not secured by our people has been overheard, and a transcript will reach Jerri almost immediately. ”
’Te took a long draft of his tea, then carried on.
“You shouldn’t take this as some kind of betrayal by Ratz or Bergendorfer, by the way. They have to live here, as do their employees. This is the hotel for the rich, powerful, notorious and aristocratic. Espionage is to be expected.”
“Then how do we strategize?”
“We use the rooms our guards secure, and we drive our watchers crazy by making heavy use of Unterspracht. Do you remember, about two years ago, when you simply couldn’t buy plastic roofing sheets?”
The Associates looked at each other and shook their heads.
“It happened. Because some analyst, presumably now dead, thought that my adding pepper to a melon showed the bank’s intent to invest in a new roofing factory. Their employers therefore bulk purchased all the roofing feedstock they could get, and hauled in a number of other major players with them. If they were right, they would have made a killing.”
“No investment, Expert?” Xiachoram grinned.
“Have you ever tried adding black pepper to some melon or fresh cut strawberries? Surprisingly nice.” Xiatokte looked utterly innocent. “Although that does lead us to the actual point of our trip. Education. And investment. You reviewed all the materials, so no need to go over them again.”
The associates were instantly back in the freezing cold, trying to chant mnemonics as they road, desperate to remember the amortization tables and fund investment standards they would be quizzed on later.
“Yes Expert.” Xiachoram said with calm resolve.
“Yes, Vice-President.” Xiachoii gave no indication that she had just scored over her rival, but ’Te’s smile left no doubt she had. With a sudden, sick feeling, Xiachoram remembered their first lunch with the Expert. In public, he was to be called Vice President. And he had just told them that everything was being listened to.
“I am glad to hear that. We also have news from our various branches. I have decoded some for you to read. Take a look.” ’Te casually drew them from the inside of his robe and handed them to Xiachoii. He waited quietly until she finished and handed them to Xiachoram.
“Take your time and think about it. Our first stop is Gale Di’pg, comptroller for the Deep Green Manufactury. A major player in the home goods market, and the owner is part of the Plutocracy. We leave in twenty minutes. Now is your first chance to shine. Follow my instructions and the instructions of the CDO’s. Do not attempt to show initiative here, it will only be used against you.”
Gale Di’pg was that rarest of birds in Red Mountain- a fit, competent person in the right job for them, adequately paid, and reasonably emotionally healthy. She seemed politely pleased to see them, introduced her team (carefully selected to put two more bodies in the room than Xiatokte brought) and invited them to sit at the not particularly comfortable conference table overlooking the factory floor.
“I had a look at what you sent over, of course, and I have to say I am a bit confused. Deep Green isn’t looking for additional investment, and we absolutely don’t need any new partners. So what is it that you are proposing, exactly?”
“A joint venture. How closely are you following what’s going on back East?”
“Close enough to know I won’t be visiting Thousand Bird Island any time soon.”
“Well, exactly. Transportation costs are up between two hundred and seven hundred percent across the board, when transportation is available at all. Manufacturing capacity is down between five and thirty percent, depending on where you are. Meanwhile demand for lightweight, easily transportable goods like tarps, boots, cups, bowls, roofing materials and the like is shooting way up too.” ’Te spoke plainly, not bothering to point to the analysis he had sent over.
“Yes, that was more or less our estimation as well. Hardly ripe for investment.”
“It is for the best kind of investment. An investment with other people’s money.” ’Te grinned slightly.
“And this is where you lost me. Are you suggesting that there is some kind of huge pile of uninvested money out east that is looking to, what, exactly? Leaving aside the dubious likelihood of that huge pile of money to begin with, how would anything we manufacture here reach, say, Sing Sing? In any kind of economically viable way?” Gale had the slightly annoying habit of stressing off beat words- is where, there is, likelihood, Sing Sing. It wasn’t the most horrible trait, of course, but it did rapidly tire listeners.
“In a word- “convoys.”” ’Te smiled, showing off his excellent cheekbones. “In quite a few words? There is a significant pool of investable income, both private and state, that is looking to find development channels to fill long term material needs. No, most of it is not hoards of unpolished cores in deep buried vaults. Most of it is still in its owner's purse. Private banks, pensions, and yes, some Clan interests.”
“Just the Xia?” One of Gale’s people cut in.
“Xia and Ma, mostly, with a sizable fraction of Bo investment capital. The Pi, or I suppose I should say a few high net worth Pi, are willing to make targeted investments, but aren’t willing to be part of a multi-asset investment fund.” This was one of ’Te’s CDO’s.
“Let’s not get into the weeds at this point- the main thing is that transportation on this continent was mediocre to begin with in this Epoch, and it’s getting much much worse.”
Some of Gale’s people started rolling their eyes when ’Te mentioned epochs.
“Sure.” Gale said. “But Deep Green isn’t going to fix it. Frankly, it’s not our problem. It is literally no business of ours.”
“Correct. But what if it was? What if Deep Green was the base of an entire chain of companies stretching the breadth of the continent, selling its goods to a far bigger market than ever before while collecting income from an entire industrial/transportation chain? Maximizing returns, while limiting your risk to just the initial investments?”
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Gale gave him a hard look. “I’d say you need to have something solid to back up that assertion.”
’Te pressed his hands together and smiled angelically.
“Let me tell you about a legal innovation, long in use out east and recently adopted in Cold Garden. It’s called the Corporation, and I think you are going to like it a lot.”
The day was grueling. It shouldn’t have been, the Associates felt. They were warm, fed and indoors, sitting in reasonably comfortable chairs, and they felt like they had been worked over with hammers. And it sure seemed like nothing got done. Endless discussions, nit picking, niggling questions about seemingly random details of case studies or use models for systems that didn’t yet exist. It seemed like a colossal waste of time. But the CDO’s looked content, and The Expert looked downright chipper as he escorted Comptroller Di’pg to dinner at the Grand. They had not been invited to dinner. They were told firmly to go find their own food, on their own time. Because now their real job started.
Xiachoram and Xiachoii played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Xiachoram won, and started working the Saloon in the Grand, seeing if he could make any connections. Xiachoii sniffed in disapproval, hid her envy, and went out into the dark and the cold. She heard that Red Mountain had night markets that ran all year. Cold Garden didn’t have night markets. So she went.
And was stopped before she even left the hotel.
“Sorry, beautiful guest, but are you heading out alone?”
“Yes, why?”
“We strongly advise all of our guests to use one of our coaches to travel around the city, and if you are not visiting someone you know, take one of our porters as a guide. While Red Mountain is a wonderful city, there are many thieves and preditors about, ready to sully our good name.” The Captain of the Grooms was quite solicitous.
“Oh?”
“For example, you may try to hail a handsom cab, then be taken somewhere remote where all manner of ills might befall you. Or simply have the fare inflated ten times more than it ought to be. Or go into a bar, have your drink spiked with something nasty, and then discover you have indentured yourself to some ruthless operators. While I am certain the rumors of cannibalism in the slums are nonsense, it has been a very cold few days.”
“Who’s your favorite porter?”
“Pari, but he’s already out. Rav! The young lady requires a guide. And a handsom cab?”
“Yes, for a few hours, certainly no later than midnight.”
He blew two long blasts on his whistle.
“Name and room number please.”
“Xiachoii, room 317.”
“Oh, you are part of Vice President Xiatokte’s party?”
“Yes, he is my mentor.”
The groom gave her a look of profound envy, then in a gross breach of etiquette, patted her firmly on the shoulder.
“You must do well. You must. Whatever he asks, you must do it. There are many people who know how to get rich. There are very few who know how to make everyone around them rich. He is that sort of person. So work hard. I would sell my eyes to give my daughter your opportunities.”
The night market was… Xiachoii wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it probably wasn’t this. It was a warren of stalls and tiny shops made up of what appeared to be (to her inexpert eye) several stalls smushed together and given a little roof. Vendors sat their chairs in front of little fragments of heat stones, or even complete stones if the stand was prosperous enough. Despite that, everyone was bundled in their thickest clothes, because once they were more than a few dozen centimeters from the heat stones, the air was far below freezing.
Her guide, Rav, carefully led her through the passages and gutters of the market, determined to show her the “good stuff.” He seemed quite resistant to the notion that she, in fact, wanted to see all the stuff, and that the “bad stuff” was likely to be more useful to her than the “good stuff.”
The market had an off feeling, like a band where every instrument was subtly out of tune. Xiachoii let the currents of the market push her around. The small traders were… not prosperous, as she understood that term. They seemed to be perpetually teetering on the edge of ruin, each sale of crucial importance. There was fear behind their cheery come ons.
Around the edge of the market, just past the lights, were dim shapes huddled in the cold. Day labor looking for lightless work? Perhaps. She would normally assume that it was those engaged in rough trade but… they stuck to the shadows. As though they couldn’t bear the light. Or that the light was forbidden to them. Perhaps the vendors feared them. Feared what they represented. And so she drifted along, a tourist admiring the painted-over misery of the small business folk.
“You don’t want anything from him. All his goods are counterfeit.” Rav glared at a skinny man in a huge coat selling palm sized paintings.
“What’s he selling? I mean, I can see they are little paintings, but why would he want to counterfeit them?”
“Not just any “little paintings,” miniatures. A specialty of Red Mountain. Much finer work than those flabby pictures from other cities. No offense.”
“None taken,” Xiachoii lied, “but what are they of?”
The vendor overheard them and, gleefully ignoring Rav’s glare, explained.
“Why, these are pictures of the great and good! Pictures to bring blessings, pictures to inspire, pictures to honor our beloved patrons as they deserve.”
“Show me a few.”
“Gladly! Now this is brand new.” He held up a little picture of a fit looking man with a necklace of fat rubies, painted in profile. The man in the picture was receiving a glowing book from a bearded old man, also drawn in profile. A few other faces clustered around the bottom of the picture, most in three-quarter profile, one wretched looking soul facing directly out of the picture. The one looking out was directly under the feet of the man wearing the rubies.
“This is Plutocrat Karim receiving the Wi’mid from a Saint.” The vendor pointed at the two people in full profile. “Underneath are a few lesser souls, and the one facing straight on is… actually I’m not sure who that is.”
Rav mouthed the word “Fraud” and rolled his eyes where Xiachoii could see.
“The more important a person is, the more sideways they are in the picture?”
“Profile, young lady, profile! The most heroic and noble of poses. The only reason you would need to see a full face in a picture is for a Wanted poster.”
“How fascinating. Any others in stock?”
“Well, this is very special. Lady Nomeki is starting to make an appearance on some miniatures. People are hanging it to call in money.”
“Oh, I definitely want one of those.”
The fact that Jerri appeared to be trampling President Xiatoktok was probably important, though she couldn’t see all the pieces yet.
Xiachoii saw an odd miniature at the bottom of the table. In this picture, there was no face at all. It was the profile of a strong woman, head covered in a scarf and hidden from view. A withered old hand was holding an iron staff topped with a ring. Clasping her legs were wounded children. Dead demons were scattered around her.
“I’ll take the one of Mother Malima too.”
“That one… is not for sale. My apologies, young lady.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was made by my nephew. He… lost his youngest last month.”
“My condolences for your loss.”
“Thank you. She hadn’t reached her hundred days yet, so I know that her soul should be fine but…”
“But.”
The vendor looked lost. “Isn’t it good to know that someone is there to look after them? Not some perfect saint. Just… some granny, who’s been in the shit before. Someone who knows what it's like to lose somebody.”
Xiachoii thought of her dead siblings. Crib death touched almost every family, eventually. Even the Xia. Especially the Xia, with their huge families. She formed her hands into the tree of mercy and bowed slightly.
“If you ever decide to sell them, I would buy one. I think a lot of people would.”