A particularly weak-hearted merchant found himself overwhelmed by the spectacle, and his knees started knocking when a faintly rocking boat heaved him up onto the pier.
But nobody laughed at him. All were silent as they converged on the delta.
It was not Lawrence’s imagination that those unrelated to trade were watching as if witnessing something very strange unfolding. In older days, disputes over land were resolved by the sword and were easy to understand. But now they were fought with parchment and ink, so it was no wonder that to outsiders it seemed like so much sorcery.
Lawrence himself had the same impression.
The way that money appeared after a negotiation was not unlike a sorcerer summoning a demon with a magic circle. No wonder the Church was so strict with merchants and their relentless quest for money – the entire business seemed as though it had to be aided by some sort of devil.
Without anyone particular in the lead, the crowd simply flowed. They made their way to the spring of gold, where the costliest items on the delta changed hands. On the tables there were parchments describing an item so valuable it couldn’t be traded for coin. And perhaps not for influence, prestige, or pride.
Those like Lawrence – small-fry merchants – found themselves stopped in their path, with only higher-status, wealthier merchants allowed to proceed. Groups similarly arriving from the north were seated. The men of both groups seemed well accustomed to giving orders with mere motions of their chins, as though this were some meeting of ancient wise men.
But here and now, it was the southerners who clearly held the upper hand. Their clothing, their retainers, and their bearing all spoke of wealth and power. By contrast, all the northerners had was their dignity. And even that was shaky, supported only by their shouting.
The southerners’ seats were all assigned, and Chief Jeeta sat three seats to the right of the finely dressed old man in the center.
No doubt the seating order was determined by the profit-sharing arrangement. The northerners had to be aware of that, and Lawrence wondered how it felt to sit in front of men whose purpose was to divide their fortune up among themselves.
But given this situation, it wasn’t obvious what the Rowen Trade Guild’s profits would be. All Lawrence could tell was that at this rate, the rewards would go to Jeeta, and those below him would receive comparatively little. Lawrence imagined the profits bypassing the guilds entirely and being instead divided evenly, and he couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
That was how absurd the idea was.
At length, the northerners had all found their seats at the table. Behind them sat men who were presumably their retainer merchants, who whispered into their masters’ ears. This seemed to be a last-minute strategy conference, and their faces were uniformly grave.
Among them, behind the best-dressed man at the northerner’s table, was a face Lawrence recognized.
It was none other than Ted Reynolds of the Jean Company.
He wore what everyone else was wearing, what must have been formal attire by the local standards – a tall, thin hat. And had circumstances been different, he would have been the mediator whose goal was to choke off the northerners for good, so seeing the truth here was frightening indeed.
Or if Kieman had called upon Reynolds after all, would he have then betrayed Lawrence? Lawrence didn’t know the truth, but as he gazed at the distant Reynolds, he suddenly got the feeling that Reynolds was looking right back at him. The man was being watched by countless other merchants, though, so it was hard to imagine that he had singled Lawrence out.
Lawrence’s feeling that their eyes had met only proved how nervously self-conscious he was.
And he was very nervous indeed.
Eve was nowhere to be seen.
According to Kieman’s explanation, she wouldn’t be at the center of activity – and that appeared to be so.
Eve’s job was to manage the under-the-table dealings.
Perhaps even at this moment she was drowning in love letters from the men desperate to outwit those around them and gain all the profit.
Lawrence, too, had a bouquet to present her, so he turned on his heel and headed away from the crowd.
Not long after, he heard a high voice declare the commencement of negotiations. It was a southern voice that made the declaration, which left no doubt as to the entirely ceremonial nature of the proceedings.
But rituals were used to pray to the gods.
As he thought about what the men at that table might be praying for, Lawrence loosened his collar, terribly afraid.
Chapter Eight
Just as there are any number of paths to reach the summit of a mountain, there were many ways to contact Eve. Strangely, Lawrence had been directed to meet her at the same plain inn where Holo had brought Col for her drunken ramble.
There were no customers on the ground floor, but the innkeeper seemed mostly unconcerned, as someone from the north had rented out the entire inn. Every inn and tavern on the delta would be like this today.
Lawrence handed over a weathered copper coin with the face of a long-gone king on it, and in return, the innkeeper placed an empty cup on the counter and indicated the inn’s staircase. “There you are.”
He was being told to take the cup upstairs.
Lawrence did as he was told, climbing the staircase, and at the end of the hallway, he saw the form of a merchant speaking to someone. He would have overlooked the person, but for the fact that no good merchant ever forgets a face.
Despite the fake beard and the cotton he had stuffed his clothes with in order to change his figure, one of the men was clearly one of Eve’s lookouts.
Lawrence faced him yet again, which earned him a sharp glare.
“How’s business?”
Lawrence stopped for a moment, but overcame his trepidation and walked up to the men, greeting the one he hadn’t met before. He realized he was being asked for some sort of password, so he calmly turned his cup upside down. “So bad I can’t even drink,” he answered.
His interrogator grinned and indicated the door next to him. The nails on his hand were twisted and deformed, probably because he was used to hard physical labor.
Lawrence gave a friendly smile and knocked at the door, entering only when he got a reply. Upon stepping inside, he found the smell of ink was almost overwhelming and mixed with that scent was something more pungent.
It turned out to be the scent coming from an old man in the corner, who was melting candle wax to use for seals.
“Have you any idea how much it saddens me to see you here?”
Physical and mental exhaustion were not the same. Eve’s face wore the exhaustion of having read too much, and she smiled, leaning her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on a table that overflowed with letters and documents.
“Was it time for your nap?”
“Exactly so. Look how much I’ve been talking in my sleep.”
Lawrence stood in the entrance, yet even there were papers scattered about his feet.
He took a casual look at them – the ones he could easily see included two threats, three unverifiable accusations that such-and-such a person on the north was secretly connected with so-and-so on the south, three invitations of alliance, and one invitation to flee to a foreign country.
Lawrence picked up that last one- – it seemed the most amusing – and brought it to Eve.
“Once I was crossing the sea out there, and I happened to be on a ship with a group of pilgrims. We had the rotten luck to be attacked by pirates.” Just as Lawrence wondered what Eve’s sudden speech had to do with anything, Eve took the letter from him and began to neatly fold it up. “At first the cowering pilgrims prayed to God, but once several sailors were killed and it seemed all hope was lost, what do you think they started doing?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Lawrence, and Eve continued, amused.
“Those pilgrims finally started just going at it! I watched them do it
and thought to myself what strange, powerful creatures humans are.”
A poet had once said that fear for one’s life was the greatest aphrodisiac.
But a question remained.
“So what did you do, Miss Eve?”
Eve tossed the neatly folded letter into the fireplace. “I went through their belongings to collect the money I’d need to buy my own life back.” Her dry lips did not move, but her eyes crinkled in a smile.
Lawrence shrugged and produced a piece of parchment from his breast pocket. “I was told to give this to you.”
“There’s no need for me to see it,” said Eve, which made the old man who was stirring the molten wax look up at them.
Eve turned to him and made a gesture with her finger, and the old man turned his attention back to the wax.
It seemed the old man was deaf. Either that or they wanted Lawrence to guess as much and thus feel free to speak.
“All I’m interested in is whether you’re my ally or not.”
“Or more accurately, whether I’ll listen to what you tell me to do in the end or not.”
Eve really did smile with her eyes, not her lips. Not replying to Lawrence’s statement, she instead held her hand out. Lawrence handed her the parchment, which she read as though it were a letter of no particular consequence.
“Hmm… it’s so close to my expectations it’s a bit unnerving. Almost as though you told them about our secret meeting.”
“You jest,” Lawrence answered with his best merchant’s smile, and a bored-looking Eve set the parchment down on the table.
“So, he’s finally come to the table, has he…?” she murmured, closing her eyes.
At the very least, she seemed to be considering the parchment Lawrence brought her for longer than the other.
“What do you think?” Eve asked, her eyes still closed.
It was still too early to bargain.
“Given that you’ve received my message, my job’s been completed without incident.”
“The northern landlords exchange a note of deed transfer of their land for the narwhal. I split the profits with the northern traitor, and your guild gets the profit from having bested their competitors.”
“Everybody’s satisfied,” said Lawrence, which made Eve sigh and rub at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s a hard thing, not being able to see the hearts of others with your own eyes.”
The only people who could trust in their partners and be sure a trade would go smoothly were those who had never seen betrayal. And those that planned to cheat another – who could also boast that their own trades would go well?
“Do you know who Kieman is connected with?” Eve wasn’t testing Lawrence. It was a simple question.
“No.”
“Does it seem realistically possible to secretly steal the narwhal?”
“Perhaps by bribing the guards on watch.”
“The deed transfer will be written by the landlord’s son, who has no actual authority. It may not carry any actual weight. What does Kieman plan to do about that?”
“The third-generation head has already paid his respects to the nearby landlords, and jurisdiction of the town is shared by the council, the Church, and the landlords. So long as they have grounds to assert their rights, things should work out.”
“I see. And you believe what Kieman says?” From her sitting position, Eve looked down her nose at Lawrence like a noblewoman regarding a piteous commoner. She spoke as though she was sure that Kieman waited to spring a trap on her.
“I do not believe his words, but I am going along with him.”
Eve turned her gaze away from Lawrence. “A perfect answer. But not enough to bridge the distance that separates us.”
Did this mean that she could not accept Kieman’s proposal? Lawrence hardly believed the entirety of the man’s plan, but it didn’t seem like such a bad trade for Eve.
Lawrence put a question to her. “What would be the best choice for you, Miss Eve?”
“I told you, didn’t I? To betray one and all and take all the profit for myself.”
“You couldn’t possibly–” Lawrence blurted out in spite of himself.
Eve smiled, amused. She seemed to want him to continue.
“Why would you be so childishly selfish?”
If Eve proposed the same detail to Kieman that he was bringing her, he was certain to accept on the spot. He would have been delighted.
So why did Eve insist on being so stubbornly persistent? Whatever her reason, it still seemed strange to Lawrence.
Or was it just as simple as that – that she absolutely did not want to share any of her gains? Was it really something so utterly unreasonable as that?
“Childish? That’s right, it’s childish.” Eve laughed and breathed in. When she exhaled, her breath was strong enough to move some of the papers on the surface of her desk. “When a child burns herself in a fireplace, she fears it even when the fire is out.”
“… If that were so, then merchants would have no choice but to sit alone in empty rooms, trembling and afraid.”
Merchants were burned, deceived – then went out to seek profit again. And wasn’t Eve herself the exemplar of that ideal? Wasn’t her being the lynchpin of events that would determine who controlled an important port town like Kerube the proof of that?
Lawrence advanced on Eve, half-angry, and found her wary gaze directed right at him.
“I wasn’t always a merchant.”
“–”
Lawrence flinched at her suddenly meek, pathetic voice.
Eve flashed a quick smile at Lawrence’s reaction, then flopped forward onto the table. Paper went flying.
The deaf, old man hurried to his feet, but Eve, still lying on the table, gave him a faint smile. “Don’t you think it ridiculous? That by exchanging a few slips of paper and a few of the formless words that come from our mouths, we can gain such money as can buy a human life.”
Eve picked up a sheet of paper and dropped it. She then slowly directed her gaze at Lawrence. “Have you ever been betrayed by someone you completely trusted? Whom can you trust then? The only one I trust is myself when I’m betraying another.”
A beast’s fangs could be used to attack, but also to defend one’s self. So was the reason Eve kept her fangs so sharp because she felt she needed to defend herself that much?
“When your own life was on the line, you asked me, didn’t you? What lies at the end of my road of greed? And I answered, didn’t I? What I’m looking forward to…” Eve slowly closed her eyes and then slowly opened them. “… Is that someday I’ll be satisfied, and I’ll be able to reach a world with no worry, and no suffering.”
Lawrence took a step back because he was truly frightened.
Aiming for a world without worry and suffering but trying to reach it via constant betrayal – it was like being shown the source of human sin.
This was no act.
It was not a trap.
Eve slowly sat up, reluctantly leaning back in her chair.
“Fine, then. I accept Kieman’s proposal. You tell him that for me.” She paused for a moment, smiling a snakelike grin. “You tell him.”
Eve was a genius.
How could her words be trusted? What was he supposed to report to Kieman?
His gorge rose at the possibilities and doubts, but he swallowed it and slowly straightened himself. She had told him to pass the message along, and he had no choice but to do so.
“… Understood.”
He bowed politely, then turned to leave.
For a moment, Eve seemed to Lawrence like the red, many armed monsters of the deep that occasionally devoured ships and haunted the dreams of sailors.
Eve truly didn’t trust anyone. It was hardly surprising then that she was willing to betray anyone for her own gain. But it was also true that without trusting someone, somewhere, trades could not be completed, and thus no profit could be gained.
So who would she trust in t
he end? And after all was said and done, who would be betrayed?
When Lawrence put his hand to the door, Eve spoke as though to stop him short. “Hey, why not join me?”
She looked at him expressionlessly. She seemed to be at once sincere and deceptive.
“What, to join you even knowing I’d been fooled?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t want to believe I’ve been fooled,” Lawrence answered.
Eve smiled. “I suppose not.”
Lawrence had no reply to follow that. If he replied, he’d be taken. Humans were all too easily led astray by the mermaid’s song.
He quickly stepped out of the room and down the stairs. The whole way, he felt as though Eve were watching him go.
Kieman was to be contacted via a messenger.
The designated location was a busy little street filled with stalls, two blocks away from the spring of gold. The best place to hide a tree was in a forest, after all.
He sent the note via messenger not just because it was difficult to meet with Kieman in person, but for another reason as well.
Lawrence was under strict orders to tell Eve only those things he had been specifically told to tell her. This was probably to prevent her from using Lawrence to deliver misinformation to Kieman.
Lawrence had to admit that the precaution protected him as well. It was impossible to tell which parts of his recent exchange with Eve had been accurate.
What was the truth and where were the lies? He felt his own trust in people wavering.
“The boss says, ‘Understood.’” It was a small, hunchbacked man who delivered Lawrence’s message and brought back this reply.
“What should I do?”
“The meeting will be in recess soon. You’ll get your instructions after that.”
“I understand.”
“Right, you’ll pick up your next message from us at the prearranged location.”
No sooner had the messenger said so than he left – probably to pick up other pieces of information from other places.
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