The Kalis Experiments

by R A Fisher

  If there was one thing she’d learned through the lens of Rina Saalesh, it was that it was good to see what sort of people someone did business with before going into business with them herself. Even if her business was to pump them for information and then maybe kill them. Especially if her business was to pump them for information and then maybe kill them. So she didn’t regret spending the rest of that day or the next three squatting in a bush, even if only nine people came in and out of N’nareth’s office the whole time. Sometimes, nine was enough.

  The first one was the biggest surprise. Judging by his weathered skin, colorful clothes, and the emeralds studded across the top of his bald head, he was from Ristro, and not just a Church convert either. It wasn’t unheard of for the N’naradin to do business with the Corsairs, but Syrina had thought it was in the tolerated black market, not with a prominent importer. People who paid their Salvation Taxes usually didn’t want to risk such shady associates.

  His presence made Syrina begin to worry about her supposed in with N’nareth. If the importer’s customer already had a line on actual Ristroan merchandise, what chance did Ormo’s counterfeits have at holding up to either N’nareth’s scrutiny or her interest?

  The majority of the other visitors were Church officials. They wore the red and white of the Grace’s officiates, and some were women, and some were men, but beyond that, it was impossible to glean anything. Some were in and out in five minutes, others were there for the better part of an hour. Their presence could’ve been nothing or the answer to all Syrina’s questions. She didn’t know enough to get anything out of it either way. She noted the faces in case they came up again and waited more.

  The last one came a half-hour before dark on the fourth night. The servant was just coming out to lock up the gate. He was tall, maybe twelve hands, and balding, though he sported bushy gray eyebrows and an even bushier black mustache. What was left of the hair on his head was black with streaks of gray, pulled back into a short, taut ponytail. He carried a leather satchel small enough to carry with one hand and big enough to hold just about anything. When he came out, he was empty-handed and looked angry.

  Syrina hesitated a second to consider what she might lose by not squatting in the fern any longer, then hurried after him, forcing a few tears down the artificial flesh that covered her face.

  “Sir?” the boy mumbled. It took Helrith Caff a second to realize that the kid was talking to him.

  Caff slowed his pace to let the boy catch up while he fought down his own rising impatience. The child’s life had been a lot harder than his. He sighed, thinking of Heaven. If it got back to the temple that he’d blown off one of their messengers, the Grace only knew how high they’d jack up his Salvation Taxes just so he could get into the same middling level of Heaven he was already paying through the nose for.

  “Yes, boy, what is it?”

  “I… I think I’m in trouble, sir. Can you help me?” The kid—not quite a child, Helrith saw now, just stunted—sniffled and waited for him to nod before continuing. “I was sent with a message from the Customs House for a Miss N’nareth. It’s just that I don’t read and I got lost. I… I took a nap, and now I lost the letter, too.”

  Helrith raised his eyebrows, but he wanted to go home. This shouldn’t be any of his business. Anyway, it was embarrassing to be seen with the boy.

  “I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, but I suppose now you’ve learned that you shouldn’t sleep when you’re supposed to be doing your job.”

  “Please, sir. You don’t understand. He’ll beat me. He might kill me if he finds out I lost it.”

  Helrith paused. “Who will kill you?”

  “Master N’nef. Keeper of the Boys down at the Custom House.”

  “He beats you?”

  “If we make mistakes. Will you help?”

  Helrith frowned. “I don’t see that there’s much I can do.”

  Fresh tears were began to swell in the boy’s green eyes. “I just want to find Miss N’nareth. Maybe she’ll, you know… lie for me. Tell N’nef she got the message. Maybe she’s just, you know, nice. Do you know where she is?”

  Helrith had stopped walking and turned to face him. “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Everyone calls me Cavi, sir.”

  “Well, Cavi, I know Miss N’nareth, but I don’t know if she’ll lie for you like that or not.” Helrith narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what the message was? Maybe we could deliver it together. You know, just tell her.”

  Cavi thought for a moment, frowning and wiping his eyes. “Like I said, I don’t read, and they never tell me anything. I’m just a temple boy. N’nef was really mad about something before he gave me the letter, though. He was yelling about Salvation Taxes and other stuff to another man I never saw before.”

  “Other stuff? Like what?”

  “Fees or something. I don’t know. Maybe the yelling didn’t have anything to do with it, but he gave me the message right after, and he said to hurry. That was this morning, and now I’ve been out here all day…” Cavi’s his voice quavered. He bit his lip.

  “There’s no need for slavering.” Helrith tried not to roll his eyes when the boy could see him do it. “Clean yourself up, and we’ll go back to Miss N’nareth’s place together. It’s not far from here. We’ll think of something to tell her. Now tell me everything you remember.”

  They started walking back to N’nareth’s building, Helrith keeping pace with Cavi’s uncertain steps. The boy sniveled and never looked up from where his worn shoes splashed on the wet flagstones. Caff couldn’t help thinking of the kid as a child, even though he was at least twelve or thirteen. It wasn’t just his diminutive size. There was something miserable about him that filled Helrith with pity, like a toddler looking for his mother in a crowded market.

  “What am I going to tell her?” Cavi whined. “From what I hear—” He gave a furtive glance at Helrith before turning his eyes back to the ground.

  “Hear what?” Helrith tried not to look interested.

  “Just that, Miss N’nareth, that… maybe she’s nice enough, but if you mess up she can… you know. She knows people.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been N’nareth’s accountant for years, and I can assure you she’s no one to be afraid of. I—”

  “Oh, no, no. Of course not. I never—I mean, I bet that bastard N’nef talks like that because he’s the crooked one. Maybe she’s got something on him.”

  “Ah, you heard this from this N’nef, did you?” Helrith slowed his pace and stopped a half-block from where N’nareth’s gate stood closed. He turned to Cavi and leaned down. “Can you can remember what N’nef was yelling about before he gave you the message? I mean, specifically?”

  “I try not to pay too much attention to what N’nef is yelling about unless he’s yelling at me. Something about Corsairs and accountants who hid money. And some name. Lees, I think.”

  “Lees? What about this Lees?” Helrith didn’t hide the sudden tinge of urgency from his voice.

  “Um, I don’t know. His stuff is disappearing or something, or maybe it’s money that’s disappearing. I don’t know. I couldn’t understand a lot of it, and like I said, I was trying not to pay attention.” Cavi stepped back a pace. “Look, sir, I didn’t mean anything. I’m sure…”

  It became obvious Helrith wasn’t listening. He was looking into the street with two fingers pressed against his lips, thoughts far away.

  His focused switched all at once to Cavi, as if remembering the boy was there. “I just remembered. I forgot something I have to do at home, and now I’m late for it. I’m sorry. See that building there? That’s N’nareth’s building. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just…I’d rather you not mention our little conversation to her, all right? For your own good, mind you. She won’t want to help you if she thinks you’ve been telling me rumors about her.”

  He was already walking away from Cavi, who looked like he was going to start crying again.

  “Good luck,�
�� Helrith called over his shoulder.

  “Wait,” Cavi called, but his voice was feeble through the rising tears, and Helrith was already too far away to hear.

  Syrina lingered in front of the gate until Helrith vanished from view. Then she doubled around the block and began the long walk back to the Grace’s Hospice.

  She vaguely regretted that she hadn’t approached the Ristroan when she’d seen him the first day, but she didn’t have a good story ready to convince a pirate to help her. Anyway, while she was pretty good at pitching her voice to get what she wanted out of people, she couldn’t plan on it working with people from cultures she wasn’t familiar with. She’d gotten lucky with Helrith anyway, and she told herself she should be happy with what she got. She’d been ready with a this is Church business speech, but he’d seemed willing enough to help, even if it was just to see what sort of gossip he could get out of a frightened temple boy.

  So Helrith was N’nareth’s accountant or at least one of them, but he had no idea what the hell was going on either, except that he’d heard of Lees and had his suspicions. That meant someone else was handling the actual numbers. Syrina’s tin was on Ka’id. The Skald accountant was already handling Lees, and she was versed in N’naradin law. She was safer, too. Whoever was at the top of all this would want as few eyes as they could manage looking their way. Ka’id handling both ends kept things nice and tidy. As long as N’nareth kept a legitimate local accountant like Helrith around, the Church wouldn’t have any reason to look for the real numbers. It also meant the importer must know something, after all.

  When Syrina got back to The Grace’s Hospice, Triglav was sitting on the top of the bedpost she’d left him on, staring at the door with a curious look in his huge eyes, tinged with what she imagined was annoyance, as if he’d been wondering where she was. She decided she’d let him follow along when she went out in the morning.

  7

  Lies

  The next day, the rain grew heavy. Triglav didn’t seem to mind. He flew hidden in the low clouds, but Syrina wasn’t worried about losing him.

  Rina took a steam car. It wasn’t as smooth or as elegant as a palanquin, but Fom wasn’t such an elegant city as Eheene. Between the mud and the potholes and the crowds, she reflected that a Temple Boy could have run there in half the time. But she was what she was, at least for now.

  She’d sent a hawk from the hotel with word that she was on her way—short notice, but that wasn’t her problem—and when she arrived early that afternoon, the gate was open, and Stysha N’nareth was sitting in her office, waiting for her. The walls and desk were made of plain polished wood, as was the floor. A few framed documents hung on the walls, but other than that the room was unadorned.

  Rina was taken aback by the fact that the importer didn’t employ a secretary. There wasn’t even a foyer or waiting room, and N’nareth greeted Rina in person. She was stout and withered, with wisps of whitish-gray hair reaching out at various angles from her head, disregarding the array of glass hairpins that attempted to hold it all together. Her clothes were fine silks and linens, all red and amber. She looked like a beggar in stolen garments, complete with a large, crooked nose.

  Rina bowed.

  “Rina Saalesh, I presume,” N’nareth said, her tone pleasant.

  Her voice was low and as craggy as her face, but strong.

  “Call me Rina. There’s no need for formality among friends.” Her N’naradin was slow, but her accent was good.

  The old woman chuckled. “So we’re friends already, are we?” She gestured for Rina to sit on one of the two identical wooden chairs on the other side of her desk, padded in thin, reddish leather.

  Rina smiled, bowed again, less deeply than before, and sat, crossing her legs and laying an arm across the back of the empty chair.

  “I’ve made my fortune with the belief that anyone who does business together is a friend, and you’ve confirmed it by receiving me on such short notice. Anyway, Xereks Lees always spoke well of you.”

  N’nareth continued to smile, but new lines sprouted around her eyes. “Ah, so Lees mentioned me?”

  Rina shrugged and looked at her manicured fingernails. “Only in passing. Until now, our interests have lain in different directions. Now…well, with everything…”

  N’nareth’s smile faded a fraction, and a vertical crease formed on her brow between her eyes. “Ah, yes. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it? I hear his assistant is under a veil of suspicion.”

  Rina’s eyes widened. “You don’t say? That’s unfortunate. I met Orvaan a few times. He seemed quite competent. Have they prosecuted yet?”

  N’nareth shrugged. “I was going to ask you. News from Eheene is old by the time it gets to Fom. No matter. Shall we get down to business?”

  “Of course.” Rina smiled. “As I’m sure Ka’id told you, I have some parts salvaged from a Ristro wreck that I want to unload here in Fom. Frankly, the Syndicate taxes the shit out of that sort of thing. They feel it’s their right on such finds. By their logic, it was never mine to begin with.”

  N’nareth nodded. “Yes, I’m familiar with Skalkaad tax law, but is it not a crime in Skalkaad to circumvent the High Merchant’s Syndicate?”

  “As you may note, we are not in Skalkaad.”

  N’nareth smiled. “Very well. Please continue.”

  “Ehrina Ka’id gave me your name as someone I might be able to work with. I would, of course, give you thirty percent of the net after her cut if you can find me a buyer. She said Lees’s former client sometimes has use for things more exotic than he could easily provide, and since I wish to sell as fast as possible, it seemed a good match.”

  N’nareth’s widened her eyes. “Thirty percent?”

  “It’s small compared to the ninety-five percent tax imposed by the Syndicate, even after I pay Ka’id her considerable fee. I think you’d find me a generous business partner if we were to move forward together.”

  N’nareth studied the woman across from her a moment and nodded. “Forgive me if I’m suspicious about working with someone whose reputation rises from rumor.”

  Rina chuckled. “Nothing to apologize for. It’s one reason I insisted on meeting you. You may have also heard that I prefer to do business seldom and in person.”

  N’nareth raised her eyebrows. “Seldom? You have a prolific reputation.”

  “Business done well has no need to be done often. There’s more to life than work.”

  “I see. That’s not without wisdom.”

  “You have a reputation, too.” Rina smiled and leaned forward, green eyes glittering. “One for caution and prudence. Two things I prefer in a business partner. Especially under circumstances such as these. How could I take offense, when you display such qualities with me?”

  “Well, I’m glad my reputation precedes me as well.” N’nareth paused and looked thoughtful. “I would need to examine your merchandise before I could say whether I can help you. And of course, the final decision won’t be up to me. I must warn you that the buyer Ka’id mentioned has already found a normal supplier for the more exotic items, and had entered into a contract with him even before Lees’s troubles. The price he quotes may not be worth your time if he makes an offer at all.” Her smile was apologetic.

  “That brings me to another reason I’ve made the journey here.”

  “Go on.”

  “I would be much more comfortable meeting this buyer before any sales were final. After all, our nations aren’t always on friendly terms, and as I said, I prefer to do business in person.”

  N’nareth frowned. “As much as I may respect that, I very much doubt that he would be willing to meet with you. He’s a private person and considers his work to be important.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Mm. Nevertheless, I can say with near certainty that he will outright decline any meeting with you. You must understand, the Tidal Works—if you’ll forgive me for saying so—is what keeps Fom independent from the Merchant’s Syndicate a
nd their monopoly on naphtha. I’m afraid he’ll be wary of anyone from Eheene sniffing around his research. No offense to you.”

  “Of course.” Rina’s smile was gaunt.

  “I can give you my own personal assurances that he uses such equipment only in his research. None of it will be used for Fom’s modest military or anything of that sort. I try not to trade in such matters. Arms dealing can degenerate into an ugly, unpredictable business.”

  “Perhaps, you could inform him that I have an apolitical reputation and harbor neither any love nor respect for the High Merchants of Skalkaad. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in an attempt to circumvent them.”

  N’nareth made an apologetic wave of her arms. “I understand your situation. I just fear it would be unlikely to help if I were to explain it to him. Especially since he’s already procured another source for similar items. Again, I would still be happy to approach him to buy with me as the intermediary, in the same capacity I worked for Mr. Lees.”

  “Ah, well, that’s all well and good.” Rina began to stand. “However, if I don’t know him and cannot hope to know him, then—”

  “I didn’t say it was impossible,” N’nareth said, a little too fast, as her commission stood to take her leave. “Just very unlikely. Perhaps you could at least leave me with your hotel. I’ll approach him with a list of your merchandise and your terms. There is a chance, however slim, that he may accept your offer, under the condition that you two would only meet if he agreed to buy beforehand. With the understanding that either of you could back out of the agreement without penalty if either party were for some reason displeased with the meeting after it had taken place.”

  Rina looked reluctant. “I suppose if such an arrangement is clear between all, I could make an exception. Without mutual understanding and compromise, we’re only animals after all.”