Rise of a Merchant Prince (21 page)

“Yes, Master.” -

“And don't call me master,” insisted Nakor.

“As you wish, Master.”

Nakor sighed, and they walked down the hallway.

“What do you see?” asked Miranda.

Pug laughed. “Nakor's up to his old tricks. I can't hear what they're saying, but I saw Chalmes and the rest of them stalk out of the council chamber. I suspect Calis left Nakor in charge.”

Miranda shook her head and a rain of droplets fell around Pug's head and shoulders, striking the calm pool of water he had used for his scrying. The faint image of the distant chamber room vanished in the ripples.

“Hey!” Pug feigned irritation.

Miranda laughed and shook her head harder, making more water fly. She had just emerged from swimming in the warm ocean and had found Pug spying on the doings at Stardock in a still pool.

Pug turned and grabbed for her, but she danced quickly backwards, avoiding him. Pug's laughter joined hers as she turned and started running down the beach, back toward the waves.

Pug felt his breath tighten for an instant at sight
of her slim but muscular body, glistening with water, as she raced ahead of him. Almost a year of living on this island had browned both of them deeply.

She was a far better swimmer than Pug, but he was faster of foot. He tackled her just as she reached the water's edge and they both went down in a heap. Her shrieks of mock outrage joined with his laughter. “You monster!” she shouted as he rolled her over and playfully bit her on the neck near her shoulder.

“You're the one who started it,” he pointed out.

Lying back as the soft waves came in to cover both of them, Miranda studied Pug's features. In the year they had been together they had become lovers and confidants, but there were still secrets between them. Pug knew almost nothing of her past, for she was adept at avoiding direct answers to many of the questions he had asked. When it had become clear she didn't wish to speak of her life before meeting him, he ceased asking. Pug held part of himself back as well, so the relationship was equitable.

“What is it?” he asked. “You've got that look.”

“What look?”

“The trying-to-read-my-thoughts look.”

“Never learned that trick,” she said.

“Few do,” said Pug. “Though Gamina always could.”

“Read minds?”

“Mine, anyway,” he said, turning so he could lie back on his elbows next to her. “It was something of a problem when she turned . . . thirteen or so, and didn't go away until she was nearly twenty.” He shook his head as he remembered his adopted daughter's childhood. “She's a grandmother now,” he said softly. “I've got a grandson, Arutha, and great-grandsons,
James and Dashel.” He fell into a reflective silence. The sun beat down on their bodies while the waves rose higher with each turn of the tide, and they were content to be silent for a few moments. When the rising tide threatened finally to wash over them, Pug stood and Miranda followed.

They strolled down the beach in silence for a while. Finally Miranda said, “You've been peeking in at Stardock more often lately.”

Pug let out a slow breath, “Things are starting to . . . get more serious.”

Miranda slipped her arm into his, and as he felt her skin touch his, Pug's chest tightened again. He had loved his wife as he had thought he could love no other, but this woman, despite her mysterious past, reached parts of him he had not thought anyone could reach. After a year together she still excited and confused him as if he were a boy, not a man in his eighties.

“Where did we leave our clothing?” she asked.

Pug stood up and glanced around. “Over there, I think.”

They had occupied the island, in a rude hut Pug had fashioned out of palms and bamboo, and had traveled at will between it and his home at Sorcerer's Isle to restock their supplies of food. Most of their time together had been given over to play, lovemaking, and talking of many things. But Pug had always known that this was only a respite, a time to let troubles be forgotten, while they rested and prepared to face dark horrors once more.

Pug followed Miranda to where their clothing lay in a heap, and watched with a moment of regret as she slipped her dress over her head. He donned his
black robe and said, “You're thinking.”

“Always,” she said with a wry smile.

“No, I mean something specific. And your expression is one I've not seen before. I don't know if I like it”

Worry lines marred her usually smooth forehead. She came to him and put her arms around him. “I'm leaving for a time.”

“Where are you going?”

“I think I must go find Calis. It's been too long since I have seen him. I must see what more needs to be done with him.”

At the mention of the son of Pug's boyhood friend Tomas, the magician said, “You say this with more than one meaning.”

Miranda's green eyes locked with Pug's dark brown ones, and after a moment she nodded, once, quickly. “Yes.” She said nothing more.

“When will I see you again?” asked Pug.

She kissed his cheek. “Not as soon as either of us would like, I fear. But I will be back.”

Pug sighed. “Well, it was bound to come to an end.”

She hugged him. “Not ended, just interrupted. Where will you go?”

“My island, first, to confer with Gathis; then I will return to Stardock for a while. After that I must begin my quest”

Miranda knew he meant to search for Macros the Black. “Do you think you can find the sorcerer? It's been, what? Nearly fifty years?”

Pug nodded. “Since the end of the Great Uprising.” Glancing toward the blue sky, he said, “But he's out there somewhere. There are a few
places I have yet to search, and there's always the Hall.”

At mention of the Hall, Miranda started to laugh. “What is it?” asked Pug.

“Boldar Blood. I left the mercenary at Trabert's in Yabon. I told him to wait there until I sent for him.”

“For a year?”

“You're very distracting,” she purred, nipping at his earlobe.

“Stop that, unless you want to postpone your departure.” She said, “Well, an hour or two won't make much difference.”

As their garments fell to the sand again, Pug said, “How are you going to pay Boldar? Hall mercenaries don't come cheaply.”

Grinning at Pug, she said, “I have a lover who's a duke.” Pug smiled ruefully and said, “I'll see what I can do,” as he gathered her into his arms.

 

 

Roo smiled.

Robert de Loungville walked into the shop, which was filled by the sound of workmen hammering. The building had once been a prosperous establishment, a brokerage for traders that had fallen upon hard times. Roo liked it because there was a small kitchen in the rear, so that he, Duncan, and Luis could fix meals, since they used a corner of the large warehouse as sleeping quarters, saving him the expense of hiring guards and paying rent for quarters.

“Sergeant,” said Roo, loud enough to carry over the sounds of the workmen.

De Loungville glanced around. “This your latest enterprise?”

Roo smiled. “Yes. We're expanding, and there's no longer any room behind my partner's house for more than two wagons.”

“How many do you have?” asked Bobby.

“Six,” answered Roo. “I'm now supplementing our more exotic trade with other traffic.”

“That's why I'm here,” said de Loungville.

Roo's interest picked up at once and he signaled for his guest to follow him to the rear of the office. Inside the large warehouse behind the office the noise wasn't any less deafening, but they could find a relatively peaceful corner in which to converse. “How may I be of service?” asked Roo.

De Loungville said, “We've had some trouble with our freight shipments into the palace.”

Roo's gaze narrowed. “Trouble?”

“Trouble,” was all de Loungville replied.

Roo nodded. Agents of the Pantathians had long been a constant source of concern to the Prince and Duke, and while every step was taken to ensure that no one outside those most trusted had any sense of what was being planned by the Prince, there were just too many people needed around the palace on any given day to guarantee privacy. De Loungville and Calis had decided after the return from Novindus that it would be less risky to keep the garrison of Calis's new army at the palace and watch closely who had contact with those men.

“We need a new freight hauler to deliver key shipments to the palace.”

Roo hid his delight. He knew that he had no competition. There wouldn't be another freight hauler who could be trusted not to say anything about what he saw at the palace.

“Drivers,” Roo said.

De Loungville nodded. “It's a problem.”

Roo said, “Maybe there are some men you're training who really aren't suited for whatever it is you're planning”—he kept his voice low enough that no one would be able to overhear—“but who are
trustworthy enough to run such shipments.”

“You want us to give you a contract and then provide you with drivers?” said de Loungville.

Roo grinned. “Not quite, but if you've already had trouble with your present freight hauler, you know that I'm going to run the same risks with any new drivers I hire. Right now it's only myself, Luis, and Duncan with the valuable goods, and three fairly reliable lads I've employed for the other three wagons. But I'm not willing to vouch for them.”

“Understood,” said de Loungville. “Well, we've convinced James to open an inn, so why not provide you with some drivers?”

“Why not just set up your own operation and staff it with soldiers?” asked Roo.

“Because it's too obvious,” said de Loungville. “The reason you're here is because we need an already established freight company to cover what you're doing. Grindle and Avery has been expanding for several months now and you've made a name for yourself. We'll call for a new contract, keeping the news low-key, but not trying to hide anything.”

Roo nodded. “So I'll bid, and win.”

“You're not as stupid as you look, Avery.” De Loungville lowered his voice even more and put his hand on Roo's shoulder. “Look, you know why we have to be careful, and you also know what's at risk.” Roo nodded, though he tried to think little about what he had gone through across the sea when he was a soldier in Calis's company. “Here's the deal: you make sure that whatever we need gets delivered in timely fashion and I'll make sure you get paid in timely fashion. And don't go thinking you can charge us outrageous prices, else we'll try our hand at
freight hauling.” De Loungville grinned, and it was an expression Roo knew all too well: what he was about to hear wasn't going to be funny. “After the Duke and I contrive a way to either put you out of business or get you hung for some crime or another.”

Roo had no doubt at all that should conditions warrant it in de Loungville's judgment, he would happily hang Roo on a trumped-up charge. The man was single-minded in his desire to protect the Kingdom to a point bordering on the fanatical.

Roo said, “Just getting paid in a timely fashion would be novel. You can't believe what I have to go through collecting some of these bills.”

De Loungville's grin broadened, and this time there was humor in it. “Certainly I can. Just because a man has a title doesn't mean he has two coins to rub together.” He inspected the yard and asked, “How many wagons can you devote to your new service to the palace?”

“How many deliveries a week do you need?” asked Roo. De Loungville reached into his tunic and pulled out a parchment, handing it to Roo. “This ship's due in tomorrow from Ylith. This is the cargo heading to the palace. We should be looking at similar deliveries two, three times a week from now on.”

Roo's eyes widened at the size of the cargo. “Some army you're building, Sergeant. You've enough swords here to invade Kesh.”

“If we need to. Can you do it?”

Roo nodded. “I'm going to have to buy three, maybe four more wagons, and if you step up your demand for unloading . . .” He studied De Loungville's face. “What about in-coming caravans?”

De Loungville said, “We're unloading them at the
city gate, and we'll need you to transport the freight through the city.”

Roo shook his head in wonder. “I'd better get five wagons.” He calculated in his head and realized he was short of gold. Without changing expression, he said, “I'll need some gold to close the deal.”

Dc Loungville said, “How much?”

“A hundred sovereigns. That'll get me the wagons and mules, and hire some drivers, but make sure you do get me paid quickly, because I don't have any reserves.”

“Well, we'll make it a bit more,” said de Loungville. “I can't have you going insolvent because you weren't ready for trouble.” He drew a purse out of his tunic and handed it to Rupert. Then he put his hands on Roo's shoulders, leaning close. “You're far more important to us than you think, Avery. Don't create any problems for yourself or for us and down the road you're going to be a very rich man. An army needs quartermasters and paymasters as much as it needs sergeants and generals. Don't make a mess of this, understand?”

Roo nodded, not quite sure he did.

“Let me put it another way: if you cause me or the Captain the slightest problem, anywhere along the way, the trivial fact you are no longer a soldier in our command will spare you no pain whatsoever. I'll have your guts on a stick as if you were just down from the gibbet that first day I took your life and made it mine. Now do you understand?”

Roo's expression darkened. “Yes, but I still don't care for threats, Sergeant”

“Oh, those aren't threats, my pretty. Those are merely the facts of life.” Then he grinned. “You can
call me ‘Bobby' if you wish.”

Roo mumbled something, and then said, “Very well,
Bobby
.”

“How's your love life? Any wedding plans soon?”

Roo shrugged. “I asked her father and he said he'd consider it; if he says yes, then I'll ask her.”

De Loungville rubbed the stubble on his chin as he said, “From what you said a few weeks ago, I thought it already agreed.”

Roo shrugged. “Helmut has made me a partner and I dine with him and Karli twice a week, and I escort her down to the town market or square on Sixthday, but . . .” He shrugged.

“Go on with it,” instructed De Loungville.

“The girl doesn't like me.”

“Doesn't like you or doesn't like the idea you're marrying her for her father's business?”

Roo shrugged. “Luis says I need to win her, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I just don't find her very interesting,” said Roo.

De Loungville was quiet a moment, then said, “When you're taking her about and trying to woo her, Avery, what do you talk about?”

Roo shrugged again. “I try to make myself interesting to her, so I talk about what we're doing, her father and I, or what I did during the war.” As De Loungville's expression darkened, he added, “Nothing that would displease the Captain, certainly. I'm more discrete than that.”

Dc Loungville said, “Here's a suggestion. Ask her a question.”

“What question?”

“Any question. Ask her something about herself. Ask her opinion on some subject” De Loungville
grinned. “You might discover that you're not as captivating a topic of conversation as you seem to think you are.”

Roo sighed. “I'll try anything.” As they walked toward the door to the office, he added, “I'll have wagons at the docks at first light. You'd better have your five drivers here an hour before dawn.”

“They'll be here,” said de Loungville without looking back as he passed through the door into the front office. The door closed. Roo glanced at the bill of lading and began to calculate.

An hour later, Helmut Grindle entered the workshop area and signaled to Avery, who was overseeing the installation of iron gates on the front of stalls where valuables would be warehoused before shipping.

Roo crossed to stand before his partner and, he hoped, soon-to-be father-in-law, and said, “Yes?”

Helmut Grindle said, “I'm taking the shipment of valuables to Ravensburg myself. Some of the more expensive items are to be shown to the Baron's mother, and given your past relationship, I thought it best if you didn't make this journey.”

Roo nodded. “A good idea.” Glancing around, he said, “And there's still too much work to oversee here for me to leave.”

“Are you stopping by for dinner?” asked Grindle.

Roo considered. “I think I'll stay here and make sure we're well along on the work. Would you be so kind as to tell Karli I'll call on her tomorrow?”

Grindle's eyes narrowed and his expression became unreadable. After a moment he said, “Very well.”

Without further remark he departed and Roo turned his attention back to the matters at hand. He
had come to know his older partner well over the months they had been working together, but when it came to matters concerning Karli, Roo wasn't entirely sure what the old man thought Several times in the course of the evening he wondered what had been passing through his wily partner's mind at that minute.

Roo sat quietly in the parlor. With her father taking a wagon of luxury goods to Darkmoor, Karli and Roo were alone in the house for the first time. Previously either they had dined with her father or Roo had escorted her out, to one of the fairs in the city or to the market.

Roo spent much of the early part of the evening alone, since Karli insisted on taking charge of the kitchen herself. As Roo had discovered, there was a cook as well as a maid living in the outwardly modest Grindle home, but Karli had never allowed anyone to care for her father but herself.

Now that supper was over, they sat quietly in a room Helmut used to entertain business guests, one he called the “sitting room.” Still, Roo now admitted that the comfort and privacy of the room made it easy to relax. He sat on a small divan and Karli sat on a chair next to it.

Karli spoke softly, as she always did. “Is there something wrong?”

Roo came out of his reverie. “No, nothing, really. I was just thinking about how odd it seems, having an entire room of a house devoted to doing nothing but sitting and talking. Back in Ravensburg the only time we got to talk was over meals at the inn where Erik' s mother worked, or when we were out doing
something.”

The girl nodded, and kept her eyes down. Silence fell.

After a moment Roo said, “When is your father expected back?”

“Two weeks, if all goes as planned,” she answered. Roo studied the plump girl. She kept her hands quietly in her lap, and her posture was upright but not stiff or rigid. Her downcast eyes gave him a moment to study her face again. He had been looking for something in that face to arouse him since the day he had met her. He had a coldly calculated plan here, to woo and win this girl and use her father's good offices to rise as a merchant, but each time he found himself with any opportunity to press his suit to her, he could think of nothing to say. He had at last come to the realization that he found nothing remotely attractive in her.

He had coupled with whores far uglier than Karli, with the taste of sour wine and bad teeth on their breath, but that had been on the trail, during war, and the prospect of looming death made each encounter urgent. This was different.

This was a commitment of a lifetime and carried with it great responsibilities. He was contemplating marriage and having children with this girl, yet he knew almost nothing about her.

Luis had said woo her, and de Loungville had said to stop talking about himself. Finally Roo said, “Karli?”

“Yes?” she glanced up at him.

“Ah . . .” he began, then, in a rush, “What do you think of this new contract with the palace?”

Roo cursed himself for an idiot before the words
had finished echoing in the air. Here he was trying to convince this girl he would be a fit lover and husband, and the first question he asked was about business!

But instead of looking put out, she smiled slightly. “You want to know what I think?” she asked shyly.

“Well, you know your father,” he quickly said. “You've been around his work . . . all your life, I guess.” He found himself feeling more like an idiot each passing second. “I mean, you must have come to a conclusion or two on your own. What do you think?”