Peril & Profit

by M. H. Johnson

  "I have to ask, Halence." Sorn began as they made their way to the final stop for the day in yet another rented carriage, after having once again deposited their ever-growing hoards to the care of secret compartments or enthusiastic cousins respectively. "Who is your source for these contacts? You have to admit our success has been nothing short of breathtaking."

  "It wasn't so hard," Halence grinned. "I gently queried of a certain acquaintance I have in the city of well-to-do houses with liquid assets, whether via inheritance or trade. I implied I had an offer they might find very tempting, though I think my contact understood my goal soon enough, and we worked out a suitable compromise."

  "When was this?" Sorn asked, genuinely curious.

  "Oh, no need to worry about that," Halence replied somewhat evasively. "Suffice to say that we will soon have at least one new crewmate on the ship."

  "So he gave you those tips just for safe passage?"

  "Well, actually it's a she, Sorn."

  "Ah."

  "And it was for a tad more than safe passage, but you needn't worry about that, my friend. I have it covered at my end."

  "Fair enough," Sorn grinned.

  "The widower was her idea, by the way. She's a quick one, I'll admit. Knew not only what I was offering, but that there was more than one type of plum ripe for the picking, and willing to pay a hefty purse to take advantage of my offer. Timid high-strung widowers being one of them."

  Sorn only nodded, still smiling, finding himself eager to hunt down their next customer despite his earlier reservations, all but tasting the shiny gold to come.

  6

  The last visit they made that day did not go quite according to plan. Halence was invited in cordially enough, was made welcome with fine brandy and polite conversation, and their host did seem genuinely interested in what Halence had to say. He seemed particularly curious about what had occurred to Svalentia, and was anxious to peruse the reports the king had given Halence. Sorn had found it mildly puzzling that the eyewitness accounts which had so shocked their other hosts, material those nobles had looked over with keen intensity, barely caught this man's interest. The military reports, however, had garnered his rapt attention. Perhaps it wasn't totally real to him, or seemed more like a strategy game than a real life disaster, Sorn concluded. He spoke sadly of the tragedy of Svalentia and grimly about Caverenoc's own chances, but Sorn sensed no real anxiety, caught no sharp tang of fear. Yet Lord Vorstice's expression appeared solemn, at least.

  Possessing strong facial features topped by silver white hair in a soldier’s cut, his frame, still burly despite his middling years, gave him an impressive air, much like that of a retired centurion or perhaps a still active general. Not a man who looked like he would be intimidated by much of anything. In fact, if Sorn didn't know better, he would swear that the man smelled… excited. Hard to tell, really, excitement had much the same tang as fear, though not as sharp and normally fainter. Certainly the man's dark eyes were animated with it, Sorn thought wryly. Maybe he just enjoyed the challenge of serious negotiations.

  Whatever he was feeling, it resulted in their first refusal so far, though not worded as such.

  "I understand completely your position," Lord Vorstice said coolly as Halence made his calculated ultimatum which had proven so effective up to that point. "Nonetheless, I believe in prudence in all things. Please don't take offense if I choose to check over one or two niggling concerns. I will be discreet, I assure you. After all, you could well be carrying my safety in your hands, no? And were we to agree on this venture, could I secure passage for me and mine for say… five hundred gold crowns?"

  Halence laughed darkly at this, not having settled for less than two thousand since he began, never having had a bid for less than fifteen hundred in any case.

  "Come, Sorn," Halence said at last, "I see that we have wasted our time here."

  Vorstice gave them a wry look. "I take it things have been profitable then. Very well. Let's assume that I wanted to book passage. What figure would you consider reasonable?"

  "Four thousand gold. One-half up front." Halence was deadpan. Schooling himself not to show surprise at such a high sum, Sorn thought he understood Halence's line of thinking. This Lord Vorstice was a strange fish and he doubted the man would bite. But Halence had counted him a lost cause in any case, so if he was going to be lured, might as well get whatever he could.

  "I see," Vorstice said with that same wry smile, not the slightest trace of anxiety visible on his face or his scent. "And should my checks prove the authenticity of your venture, and please don't take offense, good sir, I am sure you would do no less for your family, would it then be acceptable were I or a man representing myself to give you a note of acceptance on the morrow? We could then meet, and I could give you your down payment discreetly. It does not pay to flash so much gold around, not even in the better parts of Caverenoc. Temptation and all that, I am sure you understand."

  Halence gave Lord Vorstice a very sardonic smile in turn. "I will tell you what. Though I have never once turned leave of a customer without deposit in hand, in your case I will make an exception. Should chance dictate that you or a man representing you should meet me at the docks with your acceptance of my price, then I shall be happy to accept you on my ship. I shall be bringing several men with me as well to escort my funds, of course. It is, as you say, unsafe to walk about with that much gold on my person."

  "Of course," Vorstice said with a subtle nod. "I have enjoyed our conversation. It has been most illuminating. And thank you for being so gracious as to consider my family for your voyage to safety."

  "My pleasure," Halence said, nodding in turn. Sorn and Halence politely made their leave at that point, escorted by Vorstices's butler back to the front of the great house, where Sorn was happy to note a new carriage had already been arranged for them.

  "That was interesting," Sorn observed.

  "A strange fish, I'll agree. Tell you the truth, I didn't think we were going to get anywhere with him. He seemed cool as a cucumber, not overly troubled at all."

  "Exactly," Sorn nodded. "He didn't smell afraid at all."

  "Huh?"

  "Never mind."

  Halence favored Sorn with a measuring look. "Sometimes I think you're keeping secrets, Sorn. In any event, he seemed a lot more concerned with the reports regarding the methodology that the Empire used for breaking through fortifications than he did with the personal accounts of suffering the survivors experienced. This is somewhat odd, considering that he too would be one of the subjugated when this city falls. I would like to say that he was keeping it cool as a negotiating ploy, but I am pretty good at spotting a facade, and this guy appeared the genuine thing. Not a hair out of place by the time I was done. Maybe, for all he studied the reports and seemed to appreciate the tactics used and the deadliness of the trebuchets, he still doesn't believe it could happen to him."

  "His offering bid was kind of low." Sorn caught himself at that point, suddenly realizing that he had just labeled as small change funds sufficient to supply one hundred knights with warhorses, armor, swords and modest rations for a year. "At least compared to the other offers we have received," he quickly amended.

  Halence chuckled. "Careful, Sorn, you almost appeared jaded for a second there. In any event, you're right. Compared to the other offers, it was exceedingly low, yet he didn't flinch when I highballed him, giving him a figure matched only by one house so far. In truth, I was surprised he accepted it without negotiating. I thought for sure he would attempt to haggle us down or throw us out. Hmm… I can only think that maybe despite his cool demeanor he took me at my word when I said that I looked askance at any petty bickering of my fee, and when all is said and done, he does appreciate the fact that we may well be his and his family's only hope of refuge, once the siege begins in earnest and the boulders and pitch start to fly." Halence sighed. "To tell you the truth, Sorn, I really don't know. Ah well, not every man is a book easily read. Some keep their covers
well sealed."

  "Wow, that was deep!" Sorn teased.

  "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, dear Sorn," Halence said wryly. "Except perhaps in your case, wherein it is altogether possible that you would miss the house entirely."

  "Oh gods, I'm never going to live that one down!" Sorn said with mock despair.

  "Gods, I hope not, otherwise you’d be unbearable!" Halence's tone then became serious. "We're all human lad, with various strengths and weaknesses when all is said and done. All of us have vulnerabilities, and all of us have our limits. Remember that next time you feel like taking on an army, boy!" Smiling, Halence tousled his hair.

  "Quit it, you make me feel like a kid!" Sorn said, both embarrassed and on some level touched by the captain's affection, giving him a playful jab on the shoulder in turn.

  "Ye gods, Sorn, you didn't have to hit me quite so hard!" Halence said in surprise, also looking a tad bit pissed as he rubbed his shoulder.

  "Err, sorry, Captain," said a suddenly embarrassed Sorn. "All those hours sitting around quietly while you silver-tongue yet another fortune into our purses, and I forget my own strength!" He knew better too, he thought.

  "All right, lad. Let's just get back to the ship and get some sleep. It will be another early day for us tomorrow," Halence slowly shook his head, still rubbing his arm. "Remind me not to try you at arm wrestling!"

  "Actually, Captain, I was wondering if you would mind my cousins and I spending the night on port grabbing a bite at whatever passes for a good inn around here? They could use the air, and we could all use some more nourishment, not that I am at all faulting the excellent provisions that you have made available to us."

  Halence thought it over. "Well, as you know, none of my crew are to leave the ship, seeing as how I want to absolutely minimize trouble caused by wagging tongues, not to mention make sure everyone is here when it is time for us to leave on the morrow, since goodness knows we won't have time to go looking and they won't exactly be wanting to stay. I've tried to make it up to them by giving everyone a silver eagle bonus here at port as reward for their excellent sailing so far, as well as promising each sailor a gold royal once we make it back to York. It may not seem like much to you or me at the moment, but trust me, it's a fortune to a sailor."

  "I bet," said Sorn, suitably impressed. Each sailor would be making several years salary with this one voyage, at least.

  "I've also been taking pains to bring in as much ale and victuals as I could, so my men have not wanted for quantity or variety since we arrived. Still, I know my men are restless as well. Frankly, I appreciate your bringing it up with me before you left the ship. Technically, you and your cousins are investors, and have the right to go where you will at port. Furthermore, you are my partner. Still, for the sake of the crew, I do hope that you will consider staying with the ship this night. You will note that I’m not leaving for the taverns either! If nothing else, it’s good for morale."

  Sorn nodded in appreciation of the captain's stance, realizing once again that though a bit rough around the edges, Captain Halence was both a man of integrity and one who genuinely cared for his crew.

  "I see your point, Captain. Very well, my cousins and I shall have to 'suffer' another night of shipboard fare.

  Sorn smiled at Halence's chuckle, knowing full well how excellent the quality of the food was, the captain having it delivered straight from a local inn making a small fortune in silver, providing for the voracious crew.

  "Gods, Sorn, you're hardly starving. I doubt there has been a time when you and your cousins put down less than four servings at any meal! Come lad, allow me the pleasure of you and your cousin's company in my cabin this evening. The fare is the same, but I have a red wine that I think you will find an excellent accompaniment to the roast pork that I believe we are having served to us tonight."

  Smiling, Sorn agreed, assuring Halence that he and his cousins would be honored to share the captain's table after their sparring. And so, after his charges once more reveled in the latest addition to their ever-growing and at this point not inconsiderable hoard, Sorn engaged in an enjoyable bout of saberwork with his cousins to the admiring eyes of more than one casually glancing sailor. It was a bout that had left him quite invigorated, no doubt in part because that evening, despite their increasing skills, not one of his cousins had managed to land on him a single blow.

  "I have to hand it to you, lads. Your technique may require a bit of work, but your speed is second to none." So commented a grizzled Vaughn, after Sorn and his cousins joined him and Halence at the captain's table. His comment, however, was interspersed between bites of roast pork, and sips of rich red wine.

  "Don't talk with your mouth full," Halence gently chided his second.

  "Shut up, whelp!” Vaughn glowered in mock anger. “As I seem to recall, you didn't spend twenty years of your life learning a soldier’s bad habits in-between fighting for your country's very survival. So the way I see it, you shouldn't talk, not having to unlearn those habits."

  "Peace, Vaughn. I just want to keep my dinner where it belongs!" Halence chuckled. "In any event, I give you that the lads are quick. Too bad they're not willing to spar with any of my men."

  "Well, actually, that might be kind of fun, Captain… Ow! Sorn, why do you always end up kicking me whenever we eat?" Lieberman gave Sorn a hurt look as he rubbed his ankle.

  "Probably because I'm afraid you'll end up choking on your own foot one day. And quit rubbing your ankle, Lieberman. You know darn well you're not hurt."

  "You kick harder than you think, Sorn. Even if it doesn't really hurt," Lieberman allowed. "Anyway, how am I going to end up choking on my own foot?”

  "Figure of speech." Sorn sighed. "Anyway, what the heck is wrong with my technique?" An indignant Sorn queried of the grinning soldier. His indignation had no effect on his appetite, of course, allowing him to shovel food into his mouth and glare at Vaughn simultaneously.

  "You see that, Captain? There is a lad fit to be a soldier. Righteous fury wouldn't halt this kid's appetite, even if his sword-work isn't quite up to par." Vaughn's eyes twinkled, and Sorn knew Vaughn was just trying to get his goat.

  "All right, Vaughn, what is this flaw you see in my blade-work?"

  "Oh nothing so major as all that, Sorn. You are quick, I grant you, and have a fairly decent degree of skill. But I don't think you bother trying to read your opponent as much as you should. You can be a tad bit overconfident. You try so quickly to disarm them and take them down that you leave yourself vulnerable to a surprise move by a truly skilled opponent. Now don't take my words too close to heart, for in the heat of a full pitched battle, taking your opponents out as quickly as possible is, as often as not, what you have to do to survive the chaos of the melee. But it always pays to learn to measure your opponent, to get a feel for his level of skill before you charge full on, trying to take him down. Other than that, your technique is good. Granted, you have years to go before you are any sort of master, but very few reach that pinnacle of expertise in any case. Besides, for your age, you are definitely above average in terms of skill."

  "Don't take his words too harshly," Halence said warmly. "Vaughn hasn't always been a sailor. He spent any number of years giving rank privates their druthers at the bad end of a practice stick, so tends to judge everyone by rather exacting standards."

  "That may be true, Halence, but that doesn't make my words any less true in turn. Furthermore, Sorn, it's obvious you only spar with your cousins. You need to practice with opponents a rank above you in skill, not below you, and you need to be willing to learn knew techniques, otherwise you'll never reach your potential."

  Sorn nodded reflectively on this while he continued to devour his food. The fried potato wedges were particularly delightful, he absently reflected, while considering Vaughn's words.

  "You're right, Vaughn. When things are more settled after this voyage, perhaps I should take the time to get more formal tutoring, just to see what people do
differently here."

  "That's the spirit, lad," Vaughn smiled.

  After finishing their third helping of the magnificently savory pork and potato wedge dinner, with perhaps just a bit more red wine than Sorn thought was good for them, to judge by his cousins snickers, they bade the captain and his second a good night before heading off to sleep themselves.

  "If you don't mind me asking, lad," Vaughn queried privately to Sorn as his cousins made their way back to their cabin, "why are you so uncomfortable with the prospect of sparring with the crew? Getting used to different styles and points of strength is to everyone's advantage, after all. If it's safety your worried about, rest assured, my men aren't reckless when they swing, and your cousins are at no more at risk than they were training with whatever professional guard they worked with when they were younger. And you have to admit that it is absurd to limit their breadth of experience for fear of them getting hurt with wooden training sticks, when that very lack of experience could get them killed when facing live steel against an opponent that wants to watch them die."

  His words packed weight, as he had no doubt intended them to. Were matters other than what they were, Sorn would undoubtedly have accepted Vaughn's gentle reprimand and allowed his cousins the mixed training. As it was, things were not quite as they appeared, and Sorn felt it best to fudge with a half-truth, it being impossible to dodge the issue entirely. "The truth is, Captain, that it is not your crew's control that I am worried about, but my cousins'."