Silversion

by Rick Johnson

  Tē’d’Tē thought that, yes, her old friend had, indeed, changed. The wide marble hearth, inlaid with sailing scenes set in silver. The silver and gold coffee urn. The sink with hot running water—something she’d never seen before. The cushioned doors and walls, covered with silk coverings. Her host was now a great beast in the world of Silverpreen.“Yes, I see you’re a regular Dandy-Shoes now,” Tē’d’Tē replied, feeling a bit uncertain about her friend.

  “Is an old friend to be doubted on only half a story?” Davison asked. “You won’t soil me with such names, if you hear my tale.”

  “My ears are open,” Tē’d’Tē replied. “Tell me how my friend has changed—or not.”

  “What I will tell seems madness, even now,” Davison said. “For, indeed, I’ve traveled far from my family’s upbringing—if only to affirm its truth.”

  Davison leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. He pointed to a thick ledger lying on the desk, and said, “Turn to page one hundred thirty-eight and start reading. That’s my own account of how I came to sit in this chair. You can skip what went before—I’ve told you the gist of that. Am I still the Davison you knew in Tilk Duraow? Read the rest of my story, then decide.”

  Davison’s Account

  Tē’d’Tē turned the pages of the ledger and began to read. Immediately she saw that this would not be just any account of events…

  I arrived in Silverpreen this afternoon. Actually, I should say Silverpreen came and found me. When I camped last night, I had no idea that I would awake to find Club Wolves making themselves at home in my campsite.

  I awoke with a start, hearing beasts talking outside the thicket where I’d been sleeping. Stumbling out of my blankets in astonishment, I grabbed my clothes. Pulling my pants and shirt on, I went to see what was happening.

  “Good morning, Davison,” the Club Wolf Commander said cheerfully, “I trust you slept well. My troops have tried to make no sound that would disturb your rest. Now that dawn is approaching, however, we have taken the liberty of starting to make breakfast for you.”

  “What in thunderation are you doing here?” I growled. The smell of Club Wolves—that rancid odor their sick-grass uniforms always has—sets my nerves on edge, so I was primed for a nasty confrontation.

  “A pity about that terrible accident up in the mountains, isn’t it?” the Club Wolf asked. “Losing the royal payroll and a troop of the High One’s best couriers is not a trifling matter, you see,” the commander continued.

  My heart pounded. They knew about the landslide. I was in deep crickets. Thinking fast, I laughed, “Yes, it nearly took me with it—narrow escape. I tried to dig them out, but it was hopeless.”

  “Come, come, Davison,” the Club Wolf replied, “it wasn’t as hopeless as all that. I believe you’re quite well fixed with silver coins at the moment, aren’t you?”

  What could I say to that? They had me, so I said nothing.

  “Sparrow Snoops have been following you for several days,” the commander explained, with a friendly smile. “We’ve had very detailed reports about your every movement.”

  Sparrow Snoops! The High One’s spies! Why had I not been more alert to the possibility they would be part of the security detail for a payroll shipment? A grim snarl formed on my face, but before I could say anything, the Club Wolf said, “Don’t jump to conclusions. You will find that we come in friendship. We could not be more pleased with your actions.”

  I tried to collect my thoughts, but I was too stunned. They knew of the disaster in the mountains and that I had taken possession of the silver—and were pleased with me?

  “Settle your mind for now,” the commander said, “I won’t be saying more. There’ll be plenty of time for that when you get to Silverpreen.” Seeing the puzzled look on my face, the Club Wolf chuckled. “Never heard of Silverpreen?” he asked. “Yawka-Woogha! If you don’t know it, you ought to, and soon will. It’s a place that traffics in riches of every kind. Ill-gotten and well-gotten wealth mingle freely and as equals. As a sea-beast, you’ll wonder at the wharves piled with treasures from Ocimez and Eperow. Ships from every land fill the bay like sparkling gems! Aye! You ought to know Silverpreen, and soon will—or the Silvers and Preens will never like you, and that’s a sight worse than us disturbing your peaceful camp.”

  After we ate breakfast, about nine o’clock we set out together, the Club Wolves treating me like a brother. I did not question whether I must go with them; it was clear I must. I walked along almost empty-headed—like a sleepwalker. I was certain about nothing—about where I was going, why I was being taken, or what the future held. The only thing that seemed clear was that they knew I had stolen the High One’s payroll, and they were happy with me for it. How could it be? Certainty and uncertainty were completely muddled in my mind.

  As I began to see elegant houses appearing on the cliffs and mountains, we stopped before a high gate, completely hidden from view by an intricate maze of boulders. The stunning grandeur of the gate—worthy of an art museum—seemed both out of place in the otherwise rough countryside, and yet as if the countryside had been designed for the gate’s greater beauty.

  Only the Club Wolf Commander and I approached the gate. As we walked toward the gate, a uniformed Bison emerged from a guardhouse. Greeting the Wolf Club commander with a smile and salute, he methodically ticked us off on a list and opened the gate. When it banged closed behind us, to my surprise, I realized the gate did not lead into more open land, but was actually an entrance into a building of some sort.

  The entrance gate opened into a grand hall adorned with a marble floor inlaid with swirling patterns of color. A high ceiling, supported by ornate columns, had the same swirling patterns of color. The swirls of color above the head and below the feet converged on a doorway at the end of the hall, suggesting a vortex sucking everything toward it. Moving through the doorway, we entered a smaller, but still large circular room. The walls were painted splendidly with various scenes of commerce: ships, dragon trains, grand beasts dressed in fine clothes, and repeated throughout, the number ‘one’ in fancy script, studded with gems.

  At a round council table in the center of the room sat a Boar, thin, but not skinny, and as well-groomed as could be imagined. A bushy head of hair, allowed to fall in tangles around his shoulders, was as well-kept in its disorder, as the rest of him. He was dressed in a fine fiery red frock-coat, with a red-checkered neckcloth wrapped several times around his throat, and a stiff-colored white linen shirt. A large red umbrella was lying on the table in front of him.

  As we entered the room, the Boar rose, nodded slightly in welcome, and said, “His Best Presents, Davison, from Frunge Sapperpate, the First Voice of the High One’s Most Revered Council, and Owner One in Silverpreen. You may be excused now, Major, Davison and I will get along just fine.”

  The Bison saluted and backed out of the room, leaving me and Boar alone.

  “I don’t know the lingo,” I said, “who exactly do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  “Titles are an item that only those who need them trade in,” the Boar replied with a smile. “With friends, I do not stand on ceremony, so you may call me Frunge. For our purposes today, my titles come down to this: I am the High One’s closest, most trusted advisor, and I control just about everything that moves in Silverpreen. That puts it more precisely than titles do.”

  “Yes, that puts things clearly,” I replied. “What do you want with a simple sailor like myself?”

  “You’re too modest, Davison,” Frunge laughed. “Until recently, you were the leading merchant in Norder Bay—or so my sources tell me.”

  “I have done an honest day’s work building my business, but little of that would cause a fine beast like yourself to waste their time with me,” I replied.

  “If it were only your prowess as a merchant, you would be correct,” Frunge said, “but there is more to you than that, isn’t there? My sources tell me that you may have a considerable amount of the High One’s sil
ver in your possession, and that you may have brought about an unfortunate landslide that has sorely distressed the High One.”

  “But what I want to know,” I said with a grim smile, “is why you brought me here, and have not simply confiscated the silver and thrown me back into Tilk Duraow. You seem to know all about me, so I’ll ask you again: Why waste your time with me?”

  “Davison, I like you already!” the Boar laughed. “You don’t want to waste my time—which someone in my position appreciates. What I want from you is to take on supervision of a certain operation I have in mind.”

  “What kind of operation,” I asked, suspiciously.

  “Things have worked out splendidly so far,” the Boar said, “I could not have planned things better myself. When the Sparrow Snoops reported to me that a terrible accident had occurred, I could not believe my good fortune! The High One’s royal couriers destroyed, the Tilk Duraow payroll lost, and no way to trace any of that to me. It was all quite accidental, or, if necessary, could easily be blamed on you.”

  “Not be traced to you!” I exploded. “What did you have to do with it?”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Frunge replied. “It just fit nicely into my plans, that’s all.”

  “What plans?” I asked, with mounting unease.

  “We are now getting to the heart of the matter,” the Boar replied. “From this point forward, you report solely to me, and anything I say from here forward stays between you and me.” He picked up the umbrella. SMASH! He brought it crashing down on the table, squashing a fly that had landed there. “You will be crushed like that fly, if you disobey what I say, even to the size of a grain of dust. Am I understood?”

  “And if I refuse?” I asked.

  “You will be crushed like that fly—instantly. No questions. No explanations. I will simply…” SMASH! Again he slammed the umbrella on the table. “You have already escaped Tilk Duraow, so I could not send you back there. You will be crushed. End of you. End of story.”

  “And if I agree?” I said.

  “You will agree, or we go no further,” the Boar replied. “I will only tell you what happens next, if you agree to obey me completely. Otherwise, I fear…” He tapped the umbrella on the table.

  Quickly considering my options, I recalled how often I have witnessed the shifting loyalties of beasts. Groups form around a cause, and soon are at each other’s throats. Deciding that, when negotiating with a scoundrel, that was as good a guide as any, I said I would gladly agree with the Boar’s demands. “What I swear this hour, may be the opposite next hour,” I told myself. Little did I realize how pleased I would be with the agreement, however!

  “Now that I trust you,” the Boar said, smiling as he patted the umbrella, “we can get on with business. Simply put, as the High One’s closest advisor, I have to consider the well-being of Hedgelands at every moment. In carrying this terrible burden, I have become increasingly worried. Year by year, I see the High One becoming more and more distracted from his duties. His attention is consumed with building his precious Crowning Glory and thinking up idiotic inventions to make the project go faster. He does not think, or care, about anything but building, building, building—faster, faster, faster.”

  The Boar paused, looking me over carefully, apparently trying to gauge how I was taking it all. Satisfied that I was listening carefully, and not showing signs of opposition, he continued. “Some of us who advise the High One, including his own brother, Colonel Snart, have been so worried about the High One’s inattention to other matters, that we have resolved to take action for the good of the realm.”

  “What kind of action,” I asked.

  “For the most part, we have simply allowed the High One to make his own stupid decisions that have resulted in various disasters. You see, as First Voice of the Council, all the information that comes in from the Sparrow Snoops comes to me. It is one of my treasured responsibilities to know everything that goes on, and share with the High One what he needs to know.”

  “So, the High One knows only what you tell him,” I observed.

  “You could put it that way,” the Boar replied, “but I prefer to say that, by taking on this burden of knowing things, I provide him more time to work at his forge with an uncluttered mind—which is what he most desires.”

  “So you and Snart treat the Hedgelands like your own private estate, and manage things as your own little business, is that it?” I commented.

  “See why I like you so much!” the Boar laughed. “You are smart—ever so smart! But you still have much to learn. It is not just myself and Colonel Snart—there are several members of the Most Revered Council who share our concerns about the High One’s distractions. The High One has made a growing number of unfortunate decisions based on a lack of good information. Such disasters are beginning to make others beyond those of us on the Council wonder if the High One is in command of his senses. His rule may soon come into question.”

  “And where do I fit into this pretty picture?” I asked.

  “I want you to manage a bit of piracy I have in mind,” Frunge replied.

  “Piracy!” I exclaimed. “What do I know about piracy!”

  “You are a successful merchant,” the Boar said. “That is the most important thing. You know how to manage affairs so that the pluses outnumber the minuses. I also know that your son is a renowed sea captain, and that your business involves trading by sea—so don’t be surprised that I want you. I have chosen you because you have stumbled into a fortune; one that cannot be traced to me. You will use your fortune to set up a trading business in Silverpreen—you have more than enough funds to begin a handsome business. You will buy ships, hire the crews, and manage the business. You will share twenty percent of your profits with me, but more than the money, I want you to conduct piracy against the High One’s ships under the cover of your trading company.”

  “Piracy against the High One!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, piracy,” Frunge responded. “Not a great lot of piracy, you see, just enough to embarrass the High One and cause enough losses that his prestige and support continue to erode.”

  “And what do I say to the Battle Stallion cruisers that will surely be looking into such piracy?” I demanded.

  “They won’t be looking into anything,” Frunge said. "I command the fleet, as well as the Sparrow Snoops. I’ll let you know when one of the High One’s ships looks particularly tasty. When your crews move against it, the Battle Stallion cruisers will be on patrol far away, chasing phantom pirates they will never find.”

  “And how long do I have to accomplish all this?” I asked.

  “How long will it take you to establish a trading business?” the Boar replied.

  “With the abundant funds,” I said, “I can make a reasonable beginning within a year. It will take me that long to buy ships, outfit them, recruit crews and other necessary help, and explore markets. I’m afraid I don’t know the markets and routes over here.”

  “There are several other Owners in Silverpreen who will invest in your business and help you connect with markets,” Frunge said. “I will set up some meetings to introduce you to them. Except for you and me, so far as anyone knows, you are a wealthy new investor who has recently arrived in Silverpreen to set up a new business. No one will inquire beyond what I tell them. This is Silverpreen, and Silverpreen doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable with their money—no matter where it comes from, or where it goes.”

  “So you took Frunge up on his offer,” Tē’d’Tē observed, closing the ledger.

  “Stopping so soon?” Davison asked. “There’s more to my story. You should hear it.”

  “I’m sick of tales about Silverpreen’s gloriously depraved history. I’d rather know what you’re doing with your talents now,” the Weasel said.

  “I’ve been more cunning that even Frunge can be treacherous,” Davison chuckled. “I think I’ve succeeded pretty well in that.”

  “How is that?” Tē’d’Tē asked.
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  “Because you’re sitting here with me,” the Wolf replied. “I hand-picked you out of the incoming workers, precisely because I wanted you for my business.”

  “How did you know I was coming?” Tē’d’Tē asked with surprise.

  “Sparrow Snoops screen the new incoming guests. The Owners get a list every week from Frunge that details the background on every new worker arriving in Silverpreen. We can pick those we want.”

  “What does it matter?” Tē’d’Tē burst out angrily. “You’re serving the very demon of tyranny itself! I have known you to be a good beast—one who knows the hardship of the Granite Hulks—but I believe you have gone over.”

  “It’s a fine thing to accuse me of such things,” Davison replied quietly, “when I would be hung as a common pirate if I am discovered.”

  “What is there to discover?” the Weasel said. “Frunge knows it all.”

  “I told you that I was more cunning than Frunge was treacherous,” Davison smiled. “I have him by the head and throat, but he doesn’t know it!”

  “What do you mean?” Tē’d’Tē exclaimed.

  “I have stayed here so long, and made no effort to send word to my family, because Frunge has given me so much rope I can completely tie him in knots!” Davison said. “When I saw that all he wanted was someone to harass the High One a bit, and how little else he wanted of me, I saw a great opportunity. But a great opportunity requires great patience.”

  He paused and refilled his coffee cup. Continuing, he said, “I needed to build an absolutely credible business, so no one would suspect my real intentions. For that reason, I’ve done everything completely in the open—well, almost everything. I’ve openly created a great and successful trading company. There’s nothing secret about it. The only secret thing is that I have created two identical companies—two fleets of identical ships and crews. One is based here in Silverpreen, and the other at Gullery Spit.”