The following morning, Soren and Varrisher went ashore to take breakfast in The Old Emperor. They wanted to be seen, and now that the Admiral was covering their expenses there was no reason not to treat themselves. Varrisher thought it the best spot as it was busy and central. The crew had likewise been given some coin to go about town and enjoy themselves, and where possible make intentionally indiscreet whispers of their feigned reason for being in Caytown.
As they ate, sitting in the window seat of the inn, Soren kept a careful but surreptitious lookout for the individual he’d suspected of following him the previous day. There was no sign of him and Soren started to wonder if their ruse had been successful. He had hoped that there would be someone watching for their return, but only time would tell.
With breakfast eaten, they both ordered coffee and sat back to wait. The plan required the Commissary to seek them out. As strangers to the town, there was no way Soren could think of to make themselves seem legitimate, or illegitimate depending on the point of view, beyond what he had already done. While the squadron was at anchor in the roads, it was possible that the Commissary was exercising a little more caution than usual, but greed was a powerful and reckless motivator so Soren hoped that the bait would be taken.
He had visited all of the waterfront provisioners the day before, so perhaps the next step was to investigate what black market dealers there were, and seek them out. If the Commissary was corrupt, as the Admiral suspected, he would be in contact with those black market dealers — which would hopefully add to the veracity of their story. Beyond that, there was little more they could do but wait.
A boy of not more than nine or ten walked into the lounge where they were sitting.
‘Oi. You. Get out,’ the barman shouted.
‘I’ve got a message,’ the boy said, ‘and I’m gonna deliver it, so you can fuck off.’
Hearing a young child swear never failed to make Soren chuckle, but the barman was less amused. He took a stick from behind the bar, before making his way toward the opening into the lounge. The boy looked around frantically, realising that he had to deliver his message fast. His eyes fixed onto Soren and Varrisher. He rushed over and threw a crumpled-up scrap of paper onto the table in front of them before running for the door. He dodged the barman’s arm and disappeared out into the street.
Soren picked up the piece of paper and uncrumpled it. There were three lines of writing:
The Drunken Rover
Seven bells
Come alone
Nothing more. He looked at it for a moment before passing it to Varrisher.
‘The plan worked then?’
‘Looks like it,’ Soren said.
Soren was at The Drunken Rover at seven bells. The tavern was similar in style to the others that they’d been in. Lots of ornate wood panelling and partitions seemed to be a style popular with Humberlanders. Soren took a seat and ordered a drink so as not to seem too conspicuous. Varrisher was waiting outside a short distance away with several men from the Typhon, watching over the doors in the event that Soren was bundled away to prison, or worse.
They had taken the Typhon’s jolly boat ashore rather than the public launch, and it was waiting for them at the quay in the event that they needed to make a speedy return to the Typhon. The remaining crew had orders to be ready to get the ship underway at a moment’s notice.
Soren made sure to arrive earlier than the appointed time and had to wait a while before a man entered the tavern and made his way over to the bartender. Soren saw the bartender nod toward him and the man scrutinised Soren for a moment before walking over and sitting down opposite Soren.
‘Good evening,’ he said.
‘Good evening to you,’ Soren said.
He sat staring at Soren in silence, which made Soren very uncomfortable. The man stood again and walked around the tavern, peering into every snug and corner. When he seemed satisfied that there was no one else there, he walked toward the door, giving Soren a polite nod as he passed, and left.
Soren was bemused. Had their ruse been rumbled?
A moment later, the door opened again and the Commissary entered. He walked over to Soren and sat down where the other man had been.
‘Hello again,’ he said. ‘I apologise for my caution, but you must understand that I won’t do business with every stranger who walks in off the street. Now that I’ve had a little time, I’ve been able to satisfy myself that there is something to your story. I’m told that since we last met you’ve been trying to sell your casks of provisions all about the town. Have you had any luck in selling them?’
‘You’re interested in them?’ Soren said.
‘That might be the case. Why don’t you tell me how you came by them?’ the Commissary said.
‘Does it really matter?’
‘No, but it does go some way to help me decide whether or not I’m interested.’
‘Let’s just say that they don’t have any paperwork,’ Soren said.
‘Very well, in that case I’ll have to proceed on the assumption that many, if not all of the casks are spoiled when deciding on a price.’
Soren said nothing but tried to make the face of someone who has realised they’ve made a mistake, but is trying to conceal the fact.
The Commissary beckoned to the bartender to bring him a drink. ‘How many casks do you have for sale?’
‘A dozen on board my ship in the roads,’ Soren said.
The Commissary rolled his eyes. ‘That’s it? All this fuss for a few casks?’ He made to get up, but Soren interjected.
‘That’s just a sample. We have a little over nine hundred tonnes on board an oceanman less than a day’s sail away, but for the sake of ease, let’s just call it an even nine hundred,’ Soren said.
The Commissary’s eyes widened, and Soren could see the greed in them.
‘Very well. I’ll need to see the casks that you have before I can make a decision on whether I’ll be able to take your full stock, or just a portion of it. Are you planning on remaining on board your ship or will you be taking a room ashore?’
‘I’m staying on my ship,’ Soren said.
The Commissary nodded, standing. ‘Have your sample casks delivered to the dockyard before dawn tomorrow morning. There’ll be someone there to take delivery. I’ll send word to your ship if I’m interested in making a purchase.’
Chapter 38
The Casks
Soren had a dozen casks from the Typhon rowed over to the dockyard in the middle of the night. As they had all originated in a Ruripathian naval dockyard, they were suitable for the job without the need to get some from the Admiral.
With the casks delivered, the next morning he visited the town’s branch of Austorgas’ Bank. The transaction would most likely be carried out by way of a draft on the bank’s credit. In order to add further authenticity to the ruse, he wanted to call on the bank to confirm the identity of its manager, who he would later require to authenticate any draft.
Then it was time to wait again. Soren whiled away the hours by practicing his fencing on the Typhon’s deck. Despite their initial misgivings, in their days training together on the beach while the ship was being repaired, Soren had earned the respect and trust of the crew, who now seemed to forgive him his nationality and lack of sailing skill. Now whenever he trained, he had no difficulty in finding sparring partners, and his exertions generally encouraged others not on watch to do likewise. They all knew that they had a fight coming, with a potentially big reward at the end of it. They wanted to ensure they were alive to enjoy it. Even Varrisher, who Soren had humiliated in a duel not long after they first met, seemed to have put the encounter down to experience. He had developed the humility, or at least the sense, to learn as much as he could from Soren.
Word finally came that evening, requesting that Soren go ashore for another meeting with the Commissary. Varrisher sent word to the Admiral that the meeting was taking place. The meeting was in The Drunken Rover again, but when Soren a
rrived he was directed to a private room in the back. The Commissary was waiting for Soren, accompanied by two other men. He stood when Soren entered.
‘Mister Soren,’ he said. He seemed a little less sure of himself than he had on previous occasions. ‘These are my business partners. I’m afraid they’d rather keep their names to themselves, for understandable reasons.’
Soren shrugged his shoulders. ‘So long as their money is good, I couldn’t care less.’
‘It’s good,’ Harris said. ‘Please, sit.’
‘Commissary Harris tells us that you’ve only been in Caytown for a few days,’ one of the business partners said. He was older, well past middle age with a head of slicked back white hair. His clothes were of excellent quality and Soren took him as being the man with the finances to front the operation. Might he be the Resident Commissioner himself? The other was younger, with dark hair and a narrow, pinched face.
‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Soren said.
‘Have you ever seen me before?’ the man said.
‘I don’t believe so, no.’
‘Before we go any further, I wish to set out some of the terms I will require you to agree to. If we reach a deal, you may not return to Caytown. If you set foot ashore after our deal is concluded, you will be arrested on sight and thrown in gaol. Do you agree to this?’ the man said.
Soren shrugged. ‘I don’t expect to be back here or to come into another load of provisions, so I’ve no problem with that.’
‘Good,’ the man said. ‘Commissary Harris tells me that you have no paperwork or certificates of quality and content for the casks.’
‘That’s correct,’ Soren said.
‘Well, we’ve opened the casks that you had delivered and I can tell you that the contents of two of them were spoiled,’ the man said.
That was a lie. The casks had been taken from the Typhon’s stores and were good. It was a ruse to knock the price down, but Soren wasn’t there for the money.
He shrugged his shoulders again. ‘If you don’t want to purchase them, what was your reason in bringing me here?’ Soren said, feigning exasperation.
‘I didn’t say that we don’t wish to purchase them. I only make my observation to explain the price that I’m willing to offer you,’ the man said.
‘Go on.’ Soren maintained his air of exasperation.
‘I’ll offer you two crowns per cask,’ the man said.
A legitimate cask of provisions would cost anywhere from five to fifteen crowns when sold for their full value, depending on the contents.
‘Four crowns.’
The man smiled. ‘Three, and not a penny more.’
Soren pursed his lips and tried to make it look as though he was weighing things up. ‘Very well, we have a deal. Three crowns a cask, for a total of thirteen thousand, five hundred crowns,’ Soren said.
Everyone at the table gave some visible reaction. It was a huge sum of money and thinking of it made Soren feel giddy. It was enough to buy a title, an estate, and finance a life of exceptional luxury. He couldn’t help but wonder what their chances of fleeing with the money would be. He was sure the Admiral would hunt them down, and with Amero already sending assassins after him he had more than his fair share of that type of trouble. He pushed the thought from his head, however intoxicatingly tempting it was.
‘Agreed. Excellent. That only leaves the logistical details. It will take us two days to assemble the necessary funds. I understand that the ship on which you have the remainder of your stock is some distance away.’
Soren nodded. ‘A day’s sail, give or take.’
‘I suggest that we reconvene here, two days hence. I’ll expect your ship to be at anchor in the roads by that point. Once my agents have boarded and inspected the cargo, I’ll transfer payment. There’s a branch office of Austorgas’ here in Caytown. I can pay you in coin, or in a draft in your favour made on the bank. As an Ostian, I trust you are familiar with them.’
Soren nodded. He had spoken briefly with its manager, Grenvery Austorga, a minor member of the family, earlier in the day. It was what the Admiral wanted. The draft would increase the paper trail for him to follow. Soren had been instructed to only accept the alternative if it would be a deal breaker. Soren also suspected that the Admiral did not trust him and Varrisher with that amount of money in coin.
‘I am,’ Soren said, ‘and I’d prefer payment by way of bank draft.’
‘Good, that will ease the process somewhat. Gathering this amount in coin on such a small island could have proved troublesome. What’s the name of the ship that carries the remainder of the casks?’
‘She’s called the Spirit of Brixen,’ Soren said. ‘I’ll require an officer of the bank to confirm the authenticity of the draft. In expectation of this agreement, I called at Austorgas’ today and spoke to the manager. He’s known to me and I’ll require him to carry out this task. He agreed to do so when I spoke with him.’
‘Very well, I have no difficulty with that; I’m familiar with Burgess Austorga myself.’
In saying that, the man confirmed that he was a member of the small circle of high society on the island, which was a further indication that he might be the Resident Commissioner. The Admiral would have men watching the tavern to identify who went in and out anyway.
‘I believe that concludes our business for this evening.’ The man stood, as did his companion who had remained silent throughout the meeting. ‘I would appreciate it if you’d wait a few minutes after we have gone before you leave,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ Soren said.
‘Excellent. The day after tomorrow then. Good evening,’ the man said. He and the other unidentified man left leaving Soren alone with the Commissary.
Commissary Harris stared at Soren for a moment in silence. ‘This is a big deal. If you’re fucking about, I’ll have you killed quicker than you’ll know. Don’t think I won’t. This ship better be bursting with casks.’ He left.
Soren waited for what he felt was a reasonable amount of time, pondering what Harris had said, before he left.
He hadn’t gone far before he heard a whisper saying his name. He looked toward its source, a small alley running between two buildings, and saw Varrisher skulking in its shadows. He came out and joined Soren as they made their way back to the quay.
‘Have the others left?’ he asked.
‘Yes, a few moments ago. Three of them. Why?’ Soren said.
‘I’m pretty sure one of the men who left a few moments ago was the Resident Commissioner’s private secretary. I didn’t get a look at the other fellow with him.’
‘I suspect that he’s the Resident Commissioner,’ Soren said. ‘The Commissary was there too, but the two new faces didn’t introduce themselves. The older of the two did most of the talking, the one I took to be the Resident Commissioner, and he made it clear they were concerned about keeping their anonymity. They’ve agreed to the deal, subject to conditions.’
‘Which are?’
‘We can’t come back to Caytown again, and we have to have the casks here in two days.’
‘If the Admiral arrests Commissioner dal Camperey when this is all done we don’t need to worry about the former. The latter shouldn’t be a problem. How much did he offer?’
‘Thirteen thousand, five hundred crowns.’
Varrisher let out a gasp.
‘It wouldn’t work, so forget it,’ Soren said.
‘No, you’re probably right, but maybe we should just sail back to Ruripathia and see if we can loot a few dockyards for real. How’s he going to pay that much?’
‘He’s borrowing it from Austorgas’. I expect they’ve been financing his scams all along. The profit margins are huge.’
‘Good, well, hopefully we have him,’ Varrisher said. ‘I saw a few navy types lurking around while you were in the meeting, so I presume that the Admiral knows who was there by now.’
‘So far so good,’ Soren said. ‘With luck, there won’t be any problems.’
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‘We’re nearly there,’ Varrisher said. ‘I don’t like helping the Admiral, but it suits our needs and in another day or two we’ll have Blasco, and be on our way again. I just hope no one else has beaten us to the prize.’
They sent a note across to the Admiral’s flagship that night and were summoned. It came as a surprise to Soren in light of the Admiral’s concerns about them being seen with one another while the plot was unfolding. They went immediately, hoping that the cover of darkness would be enough to conceal their movements from any prying eyes.
The Admiral’s ship was impressive, several times larger than the Typhon and bearing the brutish features of a ship designed solely for war. As soon as they set foot on deck, a young officer greeted them and brought them to the ship’s stateroom. Admiral dal Laucelin sat behind a table in front of the gallery windows at the stern of the ship, still at work, despite the hour.
‘Come in, gentlemen. Sit please,’ he said. ‘My lieutenant tells me there’s been an interesting development.’
‘Indeed there has,’ Soren said. He recounted the details of his meeting at The Drunken Rover, including the particulars of the deal and the additional participants.
The Admiral’s lack of surprise when they told him of their suspicions confirmed that navy men had been watching the tavern.
‘That’s good news indeed, gentlemen,’ the Admiral said, when Soren had finished filling him in on all of the details of the meeting. ‘I had hoped that this deal would be too large to be completed without the direct involvement of dal Camperey. For the amount of money involved, Austorgas’ will require his signature on any finance agreements; one of his lackeys doing it won’t provide them with enough security. That should be more than enough for me to put him on the headsman’s block.
‘I had worried that my plan was too big, that the size of it would scare dal Camperey off. However, it proves once again that greed is a powerful motivator.’ He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his belly, with a contented smile on his face.
The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2) Page 19
