Erik glanced around and saw a banner lying on the ground, its emblem familiar to him. Erik rode his horse toward the man. Garret and the other soldiers looked perplexed as the Prince’s Sergeant Major spoke in a strange tongue.
To the man, Erik said, “Duga and his War Dogs, if I’m not mistaken.”
The man nodded. “Who are you?”
“I rode with Calis’s Crimson Eagles.”
Captain Duga, mercenary leader of one hundred swords, sighed. “You were to be killed on sight, and that was on the other side of the world.”
“You’ve come a long way,” observed Erik.
“That’s the truth.” He glanced around and saw his men being disarmed by Erik’s. “What now?”
“That depends. If you cooperate, you’ll get a chance to stay alive. If you don’t . . .”
“I won’t break oath,” Duga said.
Erik studied the man. He had been almost a classic mercenary captain in Novindus. Clever, if not intelligent, but smart enough to keep his men alive, a requirement of any captain. He’d be tough enough to keep a surly band of cut-throats in line, and he’d be honest enough to keep contracts, else no one would hire him.
“No oath need be broken. You’re our prisoner, but we can hardly give you parole to return home.”
Bitterly the man said, “I don’t even know where home is.”
Erik pointed to the southwest. “That way—on the other side of the world, as you said.”
“Care to loan us a boat?” Duga asked with bitter irony.
“Perhaps. If you share some information with us, you might find yourselves with some opportunity to return home.” Erik didn’t comment on how slim the chance of that occurring might be.
“Talk,” said Duga.
“Start with, how did you get here?”
“Through one of those magic gates the snake men make.” He shrugged. “They offered a bonus for any captain who led his men through.” He glanced around. “Though where I’ll spend it, the gods only know.”
Erik said, “How long have you been here?”
“Three weeks.”
“Who are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” said the Captain of mercenaries from Novindus. “All I know is the orders from General Fadawah were simple. Go through this rift thing and find a place to camp nearby. Then wait.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. I just know we were told to wait.”
Erik felt a stab of uncertainty. Until the next element of his column arrived, he had almost as many prisoners as he had men to guard them, and at any moment new enemies might appear. Thinking quickly, he said, “Limited parole. You’ll not be harmed, but we won’t let you ride away. We’ll negotiate better terms when we get to our camp.”
The mercenary considered it for a moment, then said, “Done.” With obvious relief, he shouted to his men, “No more fighting. Now, let’s eat!”
Erik once more was amazed at the attitude of mercenaries from Novindus, who treated conflict and fighting as jobs, who faced men across the line one day who might have been allies the year before, and might be again someday, and who carried little or no ill will as a result.
Erik motioned to Garret and said, “After things settle down, make camp and let the men eat.”
The sergeant from Ironpass saluted, and started giving orders.
Erik stretched in the saddle and felt as if every bone were jangled out of its joint. His backside was sore and he couldn’t remember ever having been this tired. With a silent groan he dismounted and, smelling the food on the fires, realized he was hungry.
Before beginning the questioning of the prisoners, he paused once more to curse his Captain. He started to tend his horse and again paused a moment to curse Calis.
7
Schemes
Roo nodded.
The trade delegate had been speaking for nearly an hour, and Roo had sensed the entire course of negotiations within the first five minutes, but protocol dictated he endure the entire presentation before declining the opportunity. Roo wished the man would come to an end, as he knew this meeting was entirely pointless.
Since seizing control of the grain market in the Western Realm of the Kingdom, Roo had seen the control of his various companies, especially the Bitter Sea Company, grow by the month, until he had only one rival in the Western Realm in commerce: Jacob Esterbrook.
The one area where Jacob completely dominated was in trade with Kesh. The profitable luxury trade with the Empire was like a locked room to Roo, and no attempt of his to gain a foothold in that lucrative market had resulted in anything more than a minor contract or a marginally profitable trade.
He had again sought to gain a concession into Kesh, but now he was being told at great length by this minor Keshian functionary that his latest attempt would come to naught.
At long last the man finished, and Roo smiled at him. “So, to put it another way, the answer is no.”
The trade delegate blinked as if seeing something for the first time and said, “Oh, I think it too harsh to simply say no, Mr. Avery.” He put the tips of his fingers together. “It is far closer to the truth to say that such an arrangement is not feasible at this time. However, that is not to say that at some future date such an accommodation might not be possible.”
Roo glanced out the window of the upper floor of Barret’s Coffee House. Night was approaching. “The afternoon is late, sir, and I still have much to do before enjoying my evening meal. May I say that when next we speak, I plan on starting a great deal earlier in the day.”
The Keshian rose, his expression showing Roo’s humor was completely lost on him, and bowed slightly, then departed.
Duncan Avery, Roo’s cousin, sat almost asleep in the corner, and stretched as he rose. “Finally,” he said.
Luis de Savona, Roo’s general manager, said, “I agree. Finally.”
Roo said, “Well, we had to try.” He sat back in his chair, glanced at the coffee and rolls that had sat upon the table for hours and were now cold and stale, and said, “Someday I’m going to figure out how Jacob has such a stranglehold on Keshian trade. It’s almost as if . . .” He left the thought unfinished.
“As if what?” asked Duncan.
Luis glanced at Roo’s cousin. The two men barely got along, though they remained civil with one another. Luis, a former comrade-in-arms with Roo, was hardworking, conscientious, and meticulous in every detail of whatever task lay before him. Duncan was lazy, paid no attention to detail, and was in Roo’s employ only because he was his cousin. He was also charming, funny, and an excellent swordsman, and Roo enjoyed his company.
Luis said, “When did you become interested in trade?”
Duncan shrugged. “Roo started to say something. I just wondered what. That’s all.”
Roo said, “Never mind. I have some things I need to investigate.”
Duncan said, “Anything you want me to do?”
Roo shook his head. “No, but I need to speak to Duke James.” He stood, walked to the rail, and shouted down, “Dash?”
“Yes, Mr. Avery,” came the response from below. Dash looked up from a Bitter Sea Company desk where he was going over shipping invoices with two of Roo’s scribes. “What can I do for you, sir?” While informal when alone with his employer, Dash always observed the formalities at Barret’s and other public places.
“I need to see your grandfather at his earliest convenience.”
“Now?” said Dash, half rising.
Roo waved him back into his chair. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”
From the doorway a voice said, “Now would be better.”
Dash looked up as Roo craned his neck to see who spoke, and Dash said, “Grandfather!”
The Duke of Krondor entered, flanked by two palace guardsmen. A general stir sounded in the lower floor and several of the members rose and bowed slightly as word of the visitor spread. James came to the railing that prevented non-members from entering the trading fl
oor, and one of the guards opened the gate. James passed through and mounted the stairs to the upper floor of Barret’s. It was a tremendous breach of protocol for a non-member to do so unless he was there on business, but Roo decided it wasn’t the time to inform the most powerful noble in the Kingdom of that detail.
James spoke to Luis and Duncan. “Leave us.” He leaned over the railing and said, “Dash, ensure we’re undisturbed.”
Dash moved to the foot of the stairs and tried not to grin as he saw his grandfather’s guards also take up position at the foot of the stairway.
Keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard below, James said, “It’s time for us to do some business.”
Roo didn’t like the sound of that, but he shrugged. “Sooner or later.”
“I need two million golden sovereigns.”
Roo blinked. His net worth was several times that, but he wasn’t that liquid. To put his hands on that much gold would require some restructuring of his business. “How soon do you need it?”
“Yesterday, but tomorrow will suffice.”
“And the interest?”
James smiled. “Whatever you like, within reason. You understand that we may not be in a position to repay this loan.”
Roo nodded. “If you can’t repay this loan, I doubt I’ll be in a position to complain.”
James said, “How soon can I see the gold?”
“I can have a half-million golden sovereigns at the palace by the end of business tomorrow. The other million and a half will take a few days to arrange. I’m going to overtax most of the moneylenders in the city. I’m going to have to do some business in the East, as well.” Leaning back, he said, “Would you do me the courtesy of a bit more advance notice next time, Your Grace?”
“No,” said James. “Things come up.”
“Speaking of which,” said Roo, “I just got another trade concession rejected by the Keshian trade legate. Is there anything you can do to help me overcome this problem?”
“Possibly,” said James. “Right now we’re doing a lot of business with Kesh.”
“The gold?” asked Roo, raising an eyebrow in question. “A very fat bribe for several well-placed Keshian nobles.”
“Very fat,” agreed Roo. “Are you attempting to overthrow the Emperor?”
James stood. “It would take a great deal more gold than that to even dream of such a move. There may not be enough gold in existence to overthrow Great Kesh.” James hesitated, then said, “So you know. We have a southern border to worry about.”
Roo nodded. “I figured out that much by myself.” He stretched and stood up. “I am interested in how you propose to deal with Kesh during the coming invasion.”
“I’m working on several different contingencies,” said James. “But one of them is to ensure that enough Keshian soldiers are in the right place to encourage the Emerald Queen’s army to stay where we want them.”
Roo nodded. “No sweeps south of Krondor, up into the mountains from the Vale of Dreams.”
“Something like that. That sort of move would require that the Emerald Queen overrun the dwarves at Dorgin, which has never been done.” James smiled ruefully. “But even old King Halfdan’s army would be put to rout by this host, I’m afraid.”
Roo shrugged. He had heard stories of the dwarves’ fierceness in warfare, but had never met one of them.
As James turned to leave, Roo came around the desk. “No need to see me to the door,” said the Duke. “I can find my own way.”
As he reached the top of the stairs, he said, “Oh, by the way, stop trying to squirrel away your wealth in the East and the Free Cities. I’m going to need most of it for the war.”
Roo didn’t even attempt to look shocked or deny the truth; he had been taking small amounts of capital and moving it quietly out of Krondor. “Very well,” he said with honest resignation in his voice. “Trying to outfox you is a waste of energy.”
James nodded. “Don’t forget it.”
He left and Roo stood alone, wondering again at his failed attempt to get a trade concession into Kesh. He had a theory, and he needed to put it to the test, but right now he had a more immediate concern: how to raise a huge amount of gold quickly without causing every moneylender in the city to double his interest rates.
He sighed as he thought about his planned visit to Sylvia. He would have to give Duncan a note to take to her, since he would be here until well past midnight. He sat down and started to write.
Once done, he called down to Dash. When Dashel was standing before him, Roo said, “Give this to Duncan to take to the Esterbrook house. He’ll know what to do.” Roo stretched again. “Then please send word to my wife that your grandfather is keeping me too busy to come home for the next few days.” Actually, Roo had already told his wife he was staying in the city to work, but had planned on seeing Sylvia that night. Now he felt obliged to see Sylvia the next night, or the one after that, before returning home.
Roo glanced out the window at the sunset, and he heard the city noises outside as the day wound down and shops began to close. “I need to take a break before I start doing your grandfather’s bidding,” said Roo, standing up. “I think I’ll pay a visit to Helen Jacoby and her children.”
Dash nodded. “After that?”
“I’m going to Avery and Son for an hour or so this evening,” and with a sour face he added, “Then it’s back here. I’ll most likely be here all night.”
Dash nodded. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Come back here first thing in the morning. I expect I’ll have a great deal for you to do. Have Jason come along, as well.”
As Dash hurried toward the door, Roo walked down the stairway. He reached the entrance to Barret’s and considered crossing the street to his town house, to saddle up a horse and ride over to Helen’s. Then he decided he’d rather walk.
He wended his way through the busy streets. Roo never tired of the crowds and clamor of the city. A small-town boy, he saw Krondor as a never-ending source of stimulation. Just by walking he could refresh himself and conceive of anything being possible. But today as he walked, the distant specter of the Emerald Queen and her approaching host intruded on his appreciation of the robust city.
On one level, he knew that eventually Krondor would be attacked, probably overrun. He had seen what happened when her conquering General Fadawah crushed a city: he had barely escaped the destruction of distant Maharta. He knew it was coming. He had a faint hope the Kingdom army, far better trained and more dedicated than anything encountered by the invaders, might keep them out of Krondor, but he recognized it was probably a vain hope.
On another level, the coming seemed an impossibility. He was rich beyond even his boyish dreams of avarice; he possessed the most beautiful woman in the world; and he had a son. Nothing remotely evil could be allowed to touch that perfection.
Roo stopped; he had been so intent on his imagining, he had neglected to turn on the street that led to Helen Jacoby’s home. He turned and thought he saw a figure duck out of sight. He quickened his steps and turned the corner, and glanced both ways.
Shopkeepers were closing for the day, and workers were hurrying along, either on their final errands for their masters, or to home or a friendly inn. But the figure he had glimpsed was nowhere to be seen.
Roo shook his head. It must be fatigue, he thought. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling he had been followed. He glanced around, then set off toward the Jacoby house.
He thought it had to be the realization that the Emerald Queen’s fleet was getting ready to sail. He didn’t have any direct intelligence, but he knew enough to understand it was a certainty.
He’d watched as her army had swept over the continent of Novindus, and had sat in council while plans were made to defend the Kingdom against her attack. He could read the signs. He provided as much transport as any firm in the Kingdom; he knew where the supplies were being stored; he knew where the shipments of arms and reserve horses w
ere being readied. He knew the attack was coming soon.
It was early fall in Krondor, which meant it was spring on the other side of the world; soon the massive fleet would be loading, and would start its months-long voyage. Time and again Roo had heard Admiral Nicholas talk about the dangers of sailing through the Straits of Darkness. Difficult in the mildest of weather, it was nearly impossible in the winter. To bring so large a fleet through safely, the ideal time would be almost exactly upon Banapis, Midsummer’s Day. Tides and winds would make the narrow passage between the Endless Sea and the Bitter Sea clement enough for those inexperienced ship masters who must be in command of the bulk of the fleet. Given the wholesale carnage visited on Novindus by the Queen that Roo knew about, he couldn’t imagine there were six hundred competent captains left alive down there. Besides the wholesale devastation her conquest had visited upon the populace, Novindus boasted no deep-water sailors; they were all coast huggers, captains who didn’t suspect there was a land across the sea until Nicholas and his crew had visited there twenty years before.
Roo also suspected Nicholas had a surprise or two in store for the visitors when they attempted to clear the Straits, which was why Roo had made the journey to Queg. The only reason Duke James might require Quegan ships to act as escort for Kingdom merchants would be if the entire Royal Navy was busy elsewhere. No, Nicholas would have something waiting for the invaders as they pushed through the Straits.
He reached the Jacoby house and put the troubling thoughts of invaders behind him for a while.
Helen Jacoby answered his knock, and Roo said, “I hope you don’t mind an unannounced visit?”
She laughed and Roo was struck by how nice that sounded. “Rupert, of course not. You are always welcome here.”
From behind came the sound of her children calling his name, and Roo found himself struck by a refreshed feeling he seldom experienced elsewhere. “Uncle Rupert!” said Willem, the five-year-old. “Did you bring me something?”
“Willem!” said his mother. “That’s no way to treat a guest.”
Rage of a Demon King Page 14
