Rise of a Merchant Prince (28 page)

As a boy, Roo had slept with the girl a few times. Gwen was one of the more agreeable girls in that regard in the town, which had probably contributed to no boy's asking for her hand in marriage. Roo thought it was more likely that there simply were more girls than boys his age as he grew up. There were bound to be those who didn't find husbands. Still, he liked Gwen.

“Leave your father's house and find a position at an inn,” advised Roo.

“And why should I do a thing like that?” asked Gwen.

Roo grinned as the wine warmed him. “Because then you might find a rich merchant passing through, whose fancy you might catch.”

Gwen laughed. She took a sip of wine. “Rich like you?”

Roo blushed. “I'm not rich. I'm working hard at it, though?'

“So you're going to be rich someday?” she pressed.

Feeling his spirits lifting, he said, “Let me tell you something about what I'm going to do.”

Gwen motioned for Freida to bring more wine and sat back to listen to Roo spin his tales of ambition.

Roo winced at the sound of someone slamming a door down the hail. Then he shuddered as someone pounded on his bedroom door.

“What?” he croaked.

Erik's voice came from beyond the door. “Get dressed. We leave in an hour.”

Roo felt the way he had the day they had left Krondor. “I've got to stop doing this,” he groaned.

“What?” said a sleepy voice next to him.

Suddenly Roo was wide awake and sober. He looked to his right and saw Gwen wrapped up in the bedsheets.

“Gods!” Roo whispered.

“What?” asked Gwen.

“What are you doing here?” said Roo as he scrambled out of bed, reaching for his clothing.

Letting the sheets drop away, Gwen stretched,
showing off her body to good effect, and said, “Well, come back here and I'll show you . . . again.”

Roo pulled on his pants. “I can't! Gods! I didn't . . . did I?”

Gwen's expression clouded as she said, “You most certainly did, more than once. What is the problem, Roo? It's not the first time you and I have sported.”

“Ah . . .” he said, not certain what he could possibly say to explain this away. He sat and pulled on his boots as quickly as he could. “Well, it's just . . .”

“What?” said Gwen, now certain she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

Draping his shirt over his arm and grabbing his coat off the floor, Roo said, “Well, it's just . . . I thought I might have mentioned it last night . . . but . . . I'm married.”

“What!” came the shriek as he opened the door. “You bastard!” she shouted as she threw the porcelain washbowl that had rested a moment before on the nightstand next to the bed. It shattered loudly as Roo hurried down the stairs.

He found Duncan outside and said, “Is the wagon ready?” Duncan nodded. “I told the smith's apprentice to hitch it up when you didn't come down for breakfast this morning.”

Seeing the agitated condition his cousin was in, Duncan said, “Is something wrong?”

As if to answer his question, a loud shriek of outrage could be heard from inside the inn.

Freida, Nathan, and Milo, who had been saying good-bye to Erik, glanced back at the inn, but Roo didn't look back. He climbed up into the wagon, took the reins, and said, “We're leaving.”

Erik nodded, signaled his squad to form up, and motioned them to follow after Roo's wagon, while Duncan had to jump to get up on the wagon before it left him behind.

“What was that?” asked Duncan with a grin.

Roo turned and warned, “You will say nothing. Not a thing, do you understand?”

Duncan only nodded and laughed.

The baby
squirmed.

Erik smiled as he stood at Roo's side, while the priest of Sung the White, Goddess of Purity, blessed the child on her naming day. At the appropriate moment, Roo quickly handed the child back to Karli.

The priest said, “Abigail Avery, in this, your pure and innocent time of life, know that you are blessed in the sight of the goddess. If you remain true and good, doing harm to no one, then shall you abide in her grace. Blessed be her name.”

“Blessed be,” Roo, Karl, and Erik repeated, completing the ritual of greeting.

The priest nodded and smiled and said, “She's a beautiful girl.”

Roo forced a smile. He had so expected a son that when, a week before, Karli had begun her labor and produced a girl, he had been completely unprepared. They had argued for hours about the boy's name, Roo wanting to call his son Rupert after himself, so that he could look upon himself as the founder of a dynasty, but Karli holding out for Helmut, after her
father. Then, at the moment Karli had asked, “What shall we name her?” Roo had stood dumbfounded, without an answer.

Karli had asked, “Might we name her Abigail after my mother?” and Roo had nodded, not having words to express himself.

The priest left the bedchamber, and Karli put the child at her breast. Erik motioned for Roo to follow him and led his friend out of the room.

“She'll be a fine daughter,” said Erik.

Roo shrugged as he walked down the stairs with Erik. “I guess. Truth to tell, I expected a boy. Maybe next time.”

Erik said, “Don't be too disappointed. I think Karli would be very upset if you were disappointed.”

“Do you?” said Roo, glancing up the stairs. “Well, I'll go back and fuss a little over the child and pretend I'm thrilled.”

Erik's gaze narrowed, but he said nothing. He moved toward the door and retrieved his cloak and a broad-brimmed slouch hat. It was raining in Krondor, and he had gotten soaked coming to witness the ceremony. “I guess I might as well tell you now,” he said as his hand rested on the door latch.

“What?”

“I probably won't be seeing you for some time.”

“Why?” asked Roo, his face betraying something close to panic. Erik was one of the few people in the world he felt he could trust and rely upon.

“I'm leaving. Soon. It was supposed to be Jadow, but he broke his leg last week.” He lowered his voice. “I can't tell you where, but I think you know.”

Roo's expression revealed concern. “How long?”

“I don't know. We've got . . . some bloody work
ahead of us, and well, it may be a
very
long time.”

Roo gripped his friend's arm as if to hold him there. After a moment he squeezed Erik' s arm and said, “Stay alive.”

“If I can I will.”

Then Roo had his arms around his friend, hugging him closely. “You're the only damn brother I ever had, Erik von Darkmoor. I'll be very angry if I learn you're dead before you get a chance to see my son.”

Erik awkwardly returned the, hug, then disengaged himself from Roo. “Keep an eye on Greylock. He was supposed to go, but de Loungville threw a fit at being left behind. . . .” Erik managed a wry smile. “It's going to be an interesting trip. Sure you don't want to come with us?”

Roo laughed a humorless laugh. “I can do without that sort of ‘interesting.'” He motioned toward the upstairs room. “I have people to take care of.”

“So you do,” said Erik with a smile. “Just see you do a good job or I'll be back to haunt you.”

“Just come back and you can do what you want,” said Roo.

Erik nodded, opened the door, and was gone.

Roo stood motionless, feeling an absence more profound than any he had known in his life. He remained there for a while, and when he at last broke out of his reverie, he pulled his cloak off the peg and left for the shop. He forgot to go upstairs and make a fuss over the baby.

Jason signaled to Roo, who moved across the crowded warehouse. Business had been building steadily for the last six months, and now they had
twenty-six full-time drivers and a score of apprentices.

“What is it?” asked Roo.

Jason held out a parchment without any seal on it. The only marking on the outside was Roo's name. “This was just delivered. It came by royal post.”

Roo took it and opened it. It said: “A Quegan trader has put in at Sarth. John.”

Roo's brow furrowed as he considered the importance of the message, then he said, “Tell Duncan we leave at once for Sarth.”

Jason nodded. Duncan came from the small apartment he and Luis still shared in the rear; Jason had taken Roo's space in the tiny apartment, since Roo was now living with his family. “What is it?” he asked, obviously having been wakened from a nap.

“Remember John Vinci up at Sarth?”

Duncan yawned widely as he nodded. “What of him?”

“He's sent us a message.”

“What's it say?” asked Duncan.

“A Quegan trader has put in.”

Duncan looked uncertain a moment; then his face lit up with a smile. “A Quegan trader in Sarth can mean only one thing.” He lowered his voice. “Contraband.”

Roo held up a finger indicating silence. “Something requiring discretion.” To Jason he said, “After I'm gone, send word to Karli, telling her I'll be gone for a week or so.”

As the newly serviced wagon was fitted, and food and waterskins loaded aboard, Roo speculated on what it was that Vinci wanted to sell him. He kept wondering as they rolled out of the yard into the city
and started their way north.

The trip to Sarth had proven uneventful. Roo felt a strange discomfort listening to Duncan rattle on about this barmaid or that game of dice. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt as if there was something back in Krondor left unattended, and that vague uneasiness was growing into full-blown worry by the time they reached Sarth.

They arrived at sundown and went straight to the shop of John Vinci. They pulled up in front and Roo jumped down. “Let me talk to him a moment,” he said to Duncan, “then we'll head for the inn.”

“Very well,” Duncan agreed.

Roo went inside, and Vinci said, “Ah, it's you. I was just about to close. Would you like to dine with my family?”

Roo said, “Certainly. Now what is this mysterious note you sent me?”

Vinci went to the door and locked it. He motioned for Roo to follow him to the back room. “Two things. As I said in the note, a Quegan trader arrived here a little over a week ago. The captain was . . . anxious to dispose of an item, and when I saw it I thought of you.”

He took down a large box and opened it. Inside, Roo saw a very elegant-looking set of rubies mounted in a display case, as if for presentation. He had never seen anything like it, but Helmut had mentioned such displays to him, and he didn't need more than a moment to know what it meant. “Stolen.”

“Well, the trader seemed ready to take whatever I agreed to give him before he returned to Queg.”

Roo thought a moment. “What did you pay for
it?”

John looked at Roo askance a moment. “What matter is that to you? What is it worth?”

“Your life, if the Quegan noble who ordered it to present to his mistress finds out you have it,” answered Roo. “Look, I'm going to have to ship that to the Eastern Realm if I take it off your hands. No noble in the Western Realm is going to give those to his wife, have her wear them to a reception, and encounter some Quegan envoy who recognizes them for what they are.”

John looked uncertain. “How would they know?”

Roo pointed at the stones. “It's a matched set, John. There are five brilliant matched stones, and a dozen smaller ones, but all are cut in identical fashion. The case is . . .” He took it, closed it, and turned it over. “Look, here.” He pointed to a line of symbols cut into the wood.

“I don't read Quegan,” said John.

“And I can fly,” said Roo. “Don't lie to a liar, John. Vinci is no Kingdom name. What is it, short for Vincinti?”

John grinned. “Vincintius. My grandfather was an escaped Quegan slave who kept his master's surname.” He glanced at the mark. “So this was made by commission from Lord Vasarius by Secaus Gracianus, master jeweler. Get a new box.”

Roo said, “Because that gem cutter will know these rubies like he knows his own children, he has certainly let it be known they are gone. If they show up anywhere west of Darkmoor, he will know within a month who has them, and who they were purchased from. The hunt will be on. The only way you're going to keep your throat intact will be to stop pulling my
finger and tell me what you paid.”

John didn't look convinced. “Ten thousand sovereigns.”

Roo laughed. “Try again.”

John said, “Very well, five thousand.”

Roo said, “I'm sorry. I can't hear you. What was it you said?”

John said, “I paid a thousand gold sovereigns.”

“Where did you get a thousand sovereigns?” asked Roo.

“Some I had saved, and the rest in trade. He needed to refit.”

“On his way to Kesh or the Free Cities, was he?” said Roo.

“In something of a hurry,” said John. “He stole the box or had it stolen before he realized how difficult it would be to dispose of the booty.” He shrugged. “His loss; our gain.”

Roo nodded. “Here's what I'll do. You can have either two thousand sovereigns gold, now, or I'll give you . . . a third of what I can fetch in the East, but you'll have to wait.”

John considered only a moment. “I'll take the gold now.” Roo said, “I thought you would.” Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a heavy purse. “I can give you a hundred now, and a letter of account. The gold is in Krondor.”

“That's not ‘gold now,' Roo.”

Roo shook his head. “All right, make it twenty-one hundred: a hundred now, and two thousand on a letter.”

“Done. I'm heading to Krondor next month and I'll present the letter then.”

“Take it to my office and I'll see you're paid. Or
you can have a line of credit.”

“What, so you can have the merchants jack up the prices for a kickback and get your price discounted?”

Roo laughed. “John, why don't you work for me?”

John said, “What do you mean?”

“Let me buy this miserable shop of yours and close it up. Bring your family down to Krondor and run a shop for me. I'll pay you more than you'll ever make here. Your talents are wasted in Sarth.”

John said, “Krondor? Never thought much of living in a city. Let me think on it.”

“You do that,” said Roo. “I'm heading for the inn. I'll come by your home later for supper. I have my cousin with me.”

“Bring him along,” said John. “And we can talk of that other matter I mentioned.”

“Good,” said Roo, letting himself out of the store. He felt good. It might take a couple of months, but those rubies would fetch him at least five thousand sovereigns' profit.

As he climbed into the wagon, Duncan said, “That took you long enough.”

Taking the reins, Roo grinned. “It was worth it.”

* * *

John's family was crowded into a small house a short distance behind his shop, separated from the shop by a small garden in which John's wife grew vegetables. Roo and Duncan were admitted by John, who was now puffing on a long pipe. He offered them a mug each of a fair ale while Annie, his wife, prepared dinner in the kitchen, aided by several children.
Roo found the noise nerve-racking as the younger three children half played, half scuffled underfoot while John sat ignoring them.

“Don't you find this a little much?” asked Roo.

“What?” said John.

“The noise.”

John laughed. “You get used to it. You obviously don't have children.”

Roo blushed. “Actually, I do have . . . a baby.”

John shook his head. “Then get used to it.”

Duncan said, “Very nice ale.”

John said, “It's nothing special, but I do enjoy a mug between closing the shop and supper.”

“What's this other matter you mentioned?” asked Roo.

“While he was talking, the Quegan trader whom I did business with mentioned something I thought you might find interesting.”

“What is it?”

“If you can turn this to a profit, what's my cut?”

Roo glanced at Duncan. “It depends, John. Information is sometimes very useful to one person and worthless to another.”

“I know about those trading consortiums down in Krondor and you're the sort of man to be involved with them.”

Roo laughed. “Not yet, but I do know my way around the trading floor at Barret's. if there's something you know that I can trade for gold at Barret's, I'll give you two percent of what I make.”

John considered. “More. Take the two thousand gold sovereigns you owe me and invest it with your own gold.” He leaned forward. “Make me a partner.”

Roo said, “Done, for this one transaction.”

“Here's what I know,” began John. “The Quegan captain I talked to said that a friend of his had sailed a cargo to Margrave's Port. While he was there, rumors were spreading through the city that there was some sort of pest infesting the wheat fields outside the city.” He dropped his voice as if fearing somehow to be overheard in his own house. “Grasshoppers.”

Roo looked confused. “So? There are grasshoppers everywhere.”

John said, “Not like these. If the farmer is mentioning grasshoppers, what they're talking about is a lot worse: locusts.”

Roo sat back, stunned. “If this is true . . . “ He calculated. “If that news hasn't reached Krondor yet . . .” He jumped to his feet. “Duncan, we're leaving now. John, I will invest the gold I owe you. For if this rumor turns out to be false, I'll be ton poor to pay you what I owe you, anyway. But if it's true . . . we'll both be rich men.”