by Guy Antibes
Sam didn’t need to be in the square below to feel the anger and pent-up desire for destruction that the students had emanated.
“So it is settled,” Temmis said, standing. “Ziggy and his student will stay the night at the college. The rest of you can return to your inn, so you can visit one of our Pundian banks tomorrow.”
Sam looked at a triumphant Ziggor Smallbug. The man sneered at Sam. “You may lead your international gang of riffraff back to the inn,” Ziggy said.
“Very well.” Sam bowed to Temmis and the other professors. “Thank you for your hospitality. We won’t detain you any longer.” He left the room without waiting for Banna and the two Wollians to join him.
He didn’t want Ziggy to see the anger in his face. What a pompous idiot, he thought. The other three joined him before he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“It looks like we will have to dodge the students on the way back to the inn,” Nakara said. “The College of Cathartics are stupid fools, if I may be so blunt.”
“You shouldn’t be so blunt on these steps, Nakara,” Banna said through closed teeth. “I should know about ill-chosen words spoken in the midst of enemies.”
Nakara stopped on the steps. He looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed his words. He continued on past them and out the doors. The Lashakan didn’t stop walking until he was through the college gate.
Sam let out a sigh of relief as the others followed him out it into the upper city streets.
“I think it is time to—” Sam looked across the square where an older man had stepped out of one of the city’s banks. He took off across the pavement and met the man as he reached the pavement. “Are you the banker here?”
The man’s face crinkled into a smile. “If I was a thief, would I be carrying nothing but these keys with me?”
“I am here to open two letters of credit. The ship that I arrived on is currently being held hostage for one hundred gold coins by the Port Authority. The sooner we can get provisioned and leave, the better.”
“One hundred gold coins, eh? Come inside. I can’t honor your letters of credit today, but we can talk about it. These are your armed friends running at us with a huge Sanchian Hound from across the square?”
Sam nodded.
“Good. I was about to take off down the street.” He laughed and trudged up the steps.
Inside, they sat at a conference table in the darkness of the bank. Banna was the one to scratch behind Emmy’s ears.
“Excuse me for insisting we light a few candles only. If the students see a lot of light in the bank, it might embolden them to burn the place down. It takes so little these days. My name is Creden Clearal, Principal of the Second Bank of Pundia. Interestingly enough, there is no ‘First’ in the city anymore.” His face smiled again.
They spent the next hour giving the banker more information than they had given the Cathartics across the square.
The man beamed. “I didn’t expect to be among such an interesting group of people in and out of the law. Of course, you are all out of the law according to the Cathartics, stiff-necked men and women, if you ask me. They possess no humor, nor any morals whatsoever. Linking arm-in-arm with Viktar Kreb proves that.”
Sam thought that even if the man were one of the underworld’s devils incarnate, he still enjoyed Clearal’s company.
“However,” the man’s smiled faded. “We have strict banking rules in Pundia. There is a 48-hour waiting period to withdraw that kind of money. The rule has been in effect for centuries, and I cannot ignore it. Can you wait that long?”
Sam thought for a bit. “If the Port Authority knows of it, then they will expect such a thing.”
Clearal nodded. “I can start the clock ticking right now,” he said. “Let me write a letter that you can take to them tonight, assuming your letters of credit are in order. May I see them?”
Sam pulled out his and Captain Darter’s documents and pushed them over to Clearal.
“Are those reading spectacles?” the man asked Sam, who had worn his spectacles the entire time he had been on shore.
“Only for me,” Sam said. “Can I fetch yours?”
“On my desk over there.” Clearal pointed to a large desk in a corner looking out at the bank floor.
Sam noted that it was elevated, but not like the desks in Carolank. The desk was clear of any papers, but the spectacles were on a little tray close to the man’s pen set.
Once Clearal had strapped on his spectacles, he began to read. “This one seems to be in order.” It was the captain’s. He took more time reading Sam’s. “This is quite unusual. You get a one-time withdrawal in any amount.” He looked again at the document. “This is certainly signed and sealed by the king of Toraltia.” He looked at Sam. “This is worth much more than one hundred gold coins,” Clearal said.
“Your captain’s letter authorizes me to redeem eighty gold pieces from her account, not one hundred without a lengthy authorization process. That means your letter of credit is worth but twenty gold. You lose quite a bit of wealth if you choose to redeem it to free your friends.” Clearal looked at Sam, his face disfigured by the light of the candle. “Some men would wait and redeem five hundred gold and disappear. That much wealth can make men and women do that kind of thing.”
Sam didn’t care. How wealthy was Harrison Dimple? Probably a lot more than his cottage, anyway. Sam refused to live a life like that.
Desmon sucked his breath in. “I suggest you disappear. What do you owe anyone on board The Twisted Wind? What do you owe anyone in this bank? I say take the money and run.”
Sam looked at Banna. She gave him an even look. “Do what you think is right,” she said.
Did she think all her actions were right? Besides, Sam had three more such letters hidden in his cabin aboard The Twisted Wind. The risk was real, however. Who knew what Viktar Kreb had done to the Tolloyan banking system? Sam couldn’t desert his friends, even though he had no illusions about the others preparing to desert him.
“Fifty gold coins,” Sam said sliding his letter of credit back to Clearal. “Can you do that? Twenty for the Captain and thirty for me.”
Clearal smiled. “I did give you an ultimatum, and you looked through it to arrive at a compromise. Very good, I can honor this for fifty gold. Although I have no doubt this is genuine, we will still have to wait for two days.”
Clearal took a candle to his desk and drafted two letters, one for the bank and one for Port Authority. For Sam, he wrote out a promissory note for one hundred thirty gold coins to Sam Smith formerly of Baskin, Toraltia.
“Now that that is out of the way,” Sam said, “can you give us a quick, but useful, version of what is going on in Pundia?”
Sam had expected Clearal’s version to vary from Deeter Temmis’ account, but it matched the Cathartic’s in every detail except for the intent of the student thugs.
“The students are taught that they are better than everyone. The upper city has operated by strict rules for centuries. We have had our problems with the lower city, but the battle for the port was waged long, long ago. A truce was established, and other than flare-ups of violence on the part of the lower city, we have been able to tolerate each other. Kreb’s men have come in to teach at the University, Temmis is one of them, and have shredded any tolerance that the college had once taught. They are taught to despise rules, so they follow their more basic instincts.”
“They teach students to raid the upper city?” Desmon asked.
Clearal shook his head. “I don’t think they teach them. From what I hear, and I’m an old man whose hearing isn’t what it used to be,” he said smiling, “they denigrate Pundia, both cities, and tell them to follow their conscience. The problem is that they have been schooled, so their conscience is quite a miniscule thing. The raiders don’t discriminate between upper and lower city, although they don’t get as far since the thugs below are more than anxious to mix it up with the students.”
“Then what do we d
o for two days?” Banna asked.
“You have an inn? I suggest you stay there, especially if it is in the lower city. Inns are soft targets for the people in black,” Clearal said. “Take your letters and come back before four in the afternoon the day after tomorrow. I can cut the time down a few hours.”
“We appreciate it,” Sam said. He had no choice but to trust the man. “You must be hungry and wanting to return home to dinner.”
“I am, but you have livened up my evening in a much better way than the students across the square usually do. I will let you out.”
Clearal suggested walking with their swords in their hands to discourage the marauding students. The bank Principal didn’t have far to go, so they saw him to his fancy townhouse not far from the bank and made their way through the central street.
One gang approached, but when their torches saw the reflection of light off steel blades, a few of them taunted them but then moved off in another direction for softer targets. The rest of the walk to the inn was uneventful.
Sam was glad to reach his destination. The late afternoon had been disturbing, to say the least. He thought about the money he had given up but shook his head. Perhaps the others might have made a different decision, or Banna might have agreed to open up one of her crates of gold had he balked at using his letter of credit.
If he were older, he also might have been of a different mind, but it didn’t matter now. What was done was done. He reached his room and poured a cup of water from the tray in his room. There was some fruit provided as well. He took advantage of it being fresh. His appetite wasn’t the best, not after learning what kind of shape Pundia was in.
Viktar Kreb was stirring up the world and causing a lot of pain and suffering. The extent of those acts was still to come. Wollia, for example, wasn’t through with the rebels.
Sleep was long in coming.
Chapter Twenty-Six
~
“D o you expect me to barter with these for the release of your ship?” the Port Authority officer said. He waved Clearal’s letter at Sam.
“No. I just wanted you to know that the process has started, and we should be ready to leave tomorrow after four in the afternoon. Is there something wrong with that?”
The man shrugged. “You aren’t going to hire armed guards or students to try to free your friends?”
“Do others do that?”
The officer looked dumbfounded at Sam. “Yes, of course, they do.”
“And how successful are they?”
“Somewhat, but always at a cost,” the officer smiled. “We signal our boats at the end of the harbor, and the offending vessel is always sunk. You have made the right choice.”
“I am certain we have.”
“I will raise the fee to one hundred thirty gold pieces, though. That is what the bank is funding.”
“But—”
The man raised his forefinger. “Of course, we will begin provisioning your ship immediately, now that you know what we do to those who do not pay.”
Sam was shocked by the depravity, but he couldn’t do a thing. “Can I give the news to the captain? Will the extra thirty pieces of gold pay for a trip out to the boat and back?”
“Who am I to stop you? Go ahead.” The officer ordered it.
When they reached the ship, Captain Darter and Smaller waited for them.
“Where is my father and Glory Wheeler?” Smaller immediately asked.
“They spent the night at the College of Cathartics.”
Smaller nodded. “He knows people there.”
“The chancellor, for one. The situation in Pundia is tense. The college students run out of the school at nights, causing all kinds of trouble.” Sam looked back at two trails of smoke. “They start fires, burn buildings, and kill innocent people.”
“So it has gotten worse,” Captain Darter said. “It just used to be the rivalry between the upper city and the lower.”
“Bad, and made even worse with the encouragement of Viktar Kreb,” Banna said. “He has made sure to infiltrate the professors with those who cloud the students’ minds with ideas that they are better than the common people, and that gives them the right to show how much better by pillaging the upper city. They don’t penetrate the lower city because they know the Port Authority will just kill them.”
“What about the letters of credit?” Darter asked.
“We can leave tomorrow evening. All the provisions will be delivered today, but the funds won’t be available until tomorrow at four in the afternoon. We have to go back to let Smallbug know.”
“I won’t leave without all of you, so be prompt.”
“Is Smallbug ever prompt?” Banna asked his son.
He sputtered for a bit. “If pressed, he is.”
Nakara slammed his fist into his palm. “Then I will make sure he is pressed, personally.”
Sam smiled. “We will arrive as soon as we can,” he said. “The guards are waiting for us to return. We won’t stay and eat up the stores. Make sure you inspect everything before you accept it.”
“They have already tried,” Darter said. “I enjoyed spanking the bare bottom of the officer who delivered our one-day supply of food. The sailors got a good laugh out of it.”
Sam winced. He wouldn’t be so bold, but the captain was much more experienced in such matters than he was.
He sat facing backward on the skiff, watching The Twisted Wind as they approached the docks.
Just before they reached shore, one of the guards laughed. “Your captain is a tough woman.”
~
Banna and Desmon left the inn to see what the shops had to offer. Sam thought they wouldn’t come back with anything, with the costs being so high.
Ziggy and Glory hadn’t returned, so he and Nakara worked on their own personal forms together.
“I am still impressed you developed your own style so quickly,” Nakara said. “I think we can spar, but with Lashak swords, we go slowly and barely clink our weapons together. It will look like dancing to the staff.” He nodded towards a cluster of women and a few men observing their exercise.
“I think they are looking at you dancing, not me,” Sam said.
“Perhaps. But let’s go.”
Sam did think of it as working on forms, but together. As they sparred, the speed of their blades increased. Sam made a few mistakes of not slowing up in time, but Nakara complimented him. He didn’t know if he deserved it, but the workout gave Sam more confidence in the proper use of his sword.
Desmon and Banna finally returned bearing a few packages.
“I found a private bird service,” Banna said. “I hope my father will get my message. He might already think I am dead.”
“He will be thrilled when he gets it,” Sam said.
“Thrilled isn’t the word I am thinking of, but perhaps a bit relieved one of his daughters is alive.”
Sam bowed. He dared not speak of her deceased sister, Ionie.
“Smallbug hasn’t returned?” Desmon asked.
“I don’t care about him, but I do care about the girl.”
“Glory?” Nakara said. “She is an innocent.”
“Not so innocent,” Sam said. “We need to get both of them back to the ship.”
~
Banna looked languidly across the murky air of a lower city tavern. Desmon and Nakara had talked them both into having a good time on their last night in port. Emmy sat obediently at Sam’s side while he watched his friends drinking ale and the local wine. Pundia prohibited minors, even apprentices, from drinking in the upper and in the lower cities, so Sam just looked on.
The night had begun to wear when Glory and Ziggor entered the tavern.
“The clerk at the inn told us she directed you here,” Glory said, looking glassy-eyed.
Desmon nodded dreamily at them. Nakara wasn’t in much better shape. Banna had barely touched her wine, but it appeared Ziggor had been drinking with the professors at the college.
“One da
y all of you will bow, and the Chancellor will put his foot on your neck, and you will pledge fealty to Viktar Kreb,” Ziggy blurted out.
A few swords were drawn. “Are you here to burn down the tavern?” one of the patrons said.
Ziggy raised his finger. “Now!”
Black-robed students rushed into the tavern. Sam stood, drawing his sword. Desmon tried to do the same, but he was so drunk his sword clattered to the floor. Nakara tossed the rest of the ale in his face. He rubbed his eyes red and pulled his own sword out. He shook his head and looked balefully at the students.
“Black and red,” the Lashakan said.
“Black and red,” Sam repeated before they plunged into the fray. The students looked at them, wild-eyed above their black masks, but whoever drove them to a frenzy hadn’t trained them very well. Emmy began to pull students down. As more students attacked, more students died.
Sam was sick at the waste of good minds until a rock just missed his head. The missile hit the wall and exploded. The room stopped for a moment. Emmy whimpered and retreated under their table.
Banna tossed an empty flagon at the students, and the explosion sent bodies every which way. Suddenly students fled, leaving their dead, dying, and injured behind.
“None of us should tolerate such behavior,” Banna said sitting down.
Sam tried to treat a moaning student. He ripped off her mask to see a patch of green on her lower jaw. It hadn’t been fully absorbed yet. “Look here,” he said, showing Banna.
“Don’t touch the green pollen!” She said to the tavern workers. “Wipe it off with a pollen cloth!”
Sam pulled up Glory’s sleeves. In the crook of her arm sat a tiny residue of the stuff. Sam just put his hand around it and felt the pollen dissipate and kept it there until her eyes came to life again.
“Check Ziggy.” Sam looked down at the comatose professor.
“Nothing,” Nakara said.
Sam grabbed his wrist and waited for a bit, but he guessed Ziggy didn’t need the stuff. He spent an hour cleansing the systems of the still-living students.
Banna interrogated those who Sam had treated with his touch. As Sam feared, the Cathartics were back, except this time they used green pollen and not drugs to achieve their vicious state.
