Rise of a Merchant Prince (30 page)

Roo blinked. “It's no scam, m'lord. I've come into some information which may give me a position that will bring great profit.”

James sat back in his chair. “Care to share that information with me?”

“With all due respect, no, m'lord.”

Duke James laughed. “You're direct enough. Let
me rephrase this: tell me.”

Roo looked first at James, then at Erik, and finally said, “Very well, but only if you promise not to interfere with my investments, m'lord.”

Erik looked scandalized at Roo's affront to the Duke's dignity, but the Duke only looked amused. “I make no promises, young Rupert, but trust me when I say that the kinds of sums of money you're thinking about interest me very little. My concerns have more to do with the safety and well-being of the realm.”

“Well then,” said Roo, “it's about the wheat crop in the Free Cities.”

“What about them?” asked James, now keenly interested.

“Locusts.”

James sat, blinked, and then broke into laughter. “And where did you get this tidbit?”

Roo explained about the chain of news, without going into detail about what brought a Quegan trader to Sarth, and when he was finished, James said, “So what do you propose to do, buy up all the wheat in the West, then hold the Free Cities' trading representatives hostage?”

Roo blushed. “Not quite. I mean to underwrite as many grain ships as I can. I mean to form a syndicate. That takes time, and I need to find someone at Barret' s who can vouch for me, and time is moving quickly.”

“How much gold is young von Darkmoor owed by the Kingdom?”

“He has nearly a thousand gold sovereigns in back pay coming, my lord.”

James rubbed his chin. “Pay him a thousand,
and”—he narrowed his gaze—“advance him another two thousand against what we're going to be paying him over the next year.”

If the secretary was curious why, he said nothing, only bowing slightly and closing the door. Before it was completely shut, Duke James said, “And send for my grandson Dash.”

“Yes, my lord,” came the reply as the door shut.

The Duke stood and said, “My two grandsons have come from the court in Rillanon to serve with me. Their parents are still in the capital, as my son must tidy up a few things before joining us.” He circled around his desk and said, “James, the eldest, has a strong appetite for the army, like his Great-Uncle William.” James smiled. “But Dashel is . . . well, let's say I'm looking for the proper undertaking to engage his . . . unusual talents.”

He put his hand on Roo's shoulder. “Do you think you could use a clever lad in this soon-to-be-booming enterprise you're building, Mr. Avery?”

Roo wanted to hire a noble's grandchild as much as he wanted a boil on his backside, but sensing the way this conversation was heading, he said, “My lord, I would be more than happy to have a bright and talented lad join my concern . . . as an apprentice, you understand. I can't show favoritism because he's of high station.”

James laughed at that. “Rupert, if you had any idea of my history—never mind. I think you'll find the boy a quick study, and he's getting a bit underfoot around here.”

A knock came from the door and James said, “Come in.” The door opened and a young man stepped through. Roo glanced back and forth
between the Duke and his grandson. The resemblance was striking. They were of equal height, though the boy might be a finger's width taller. Save for the age, they could have been brothers, not grandfather and grandson. But where the Duke had a beard, the lad was clean-shaven, and where the Duke had nearly white hair, the youth had curly brown locks.

“How would you like to try your hand at commerce?” asked the Duke.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Grandfather?” responded the youngster.

“Something that will keep you out of the gambling halls and taverns, Dash. Meet your new employer, Mr. Avery.”

Roo nodded. The young man seemed wryly amused at the news that he was now an employee of Avery and Sons, but he merely nodded. “Sir” was all he said.

“Now, go with Mr. Avery, and when you get to Barret's, ask to see Jerome Masterson. Introduce yourselves and say this, that I would count it a great personal favor if he could facilitate whatever Mr. Avery needs done to establish his little syndicate.”

To Roo he said, “Good luck, and I hope you don't go broke too quickly.” To Erik he said, “I hope you can find a day when you can enjoy all this immense wealth Rupert is going to put aside for you until you return.”

Erik nodded, “I'll say yea to that, sir.”

To Dash the Duke said, “Come by and visit us from time to time, you rogue.”

The young man said, “That means you're throwing me out of the palace again?”

James laughed. “Something like that. You're Mr. Avery's apprentice until he fires you, so you'll be living wherever he puts you.”

Roo thought of the already cramped quarters shared by Luis, Duncan, and Jason, but said nothing. The three men left the Duke's office, and Roo found he could hardly breathe, he was so excited by the prospects of the coming opportunity.

He barely heard Erik's good-bye as he left the city gate, the grandson of the most powerful noble in the Kingdom at his side, his new apprentice.

Roo cleared
his throat.

The door waiter turned and Roo winced as he saw it was Kurt. His old nemesis narrowed his gaze and said, “What do you want?”

“I would like to speak with Jerome Masterson,” said Roo evenly, ignoring Kurt's lack of civility.

Kurt raised one eyebrow but said nothing. He turned and whispered something to another waiter, a new boy unknown to Roo, who nodded and hurried off. “Wait here,” said Kurt, walking away.

“Surly bugger, isn't he?” said Dash.

“You don't know the half of it,” said Roo.

The second waiter and Kurt returned a few minutes later, and Kurt said, “Mr. Masterson regrets that his schedule at this time doesn't present an opportunity to speak with you. Perhaps some other time.”

Roo's temper began to flare. “Let me guess, Kurt. You neglected to specify who was asking to see him.” Roo pushed through the swinging railing and Kurt backed away a step.

“Don't make me send for the City Watch, Avery!” warned Kurt.

Kurt motioned for the young waiter to come closer, and with some hesitancy, he did. “What did you say to Mr. Masterson?”

The boy glanced at Kurt, then Roo. “I told him what Kurt said to tell him: a former waiter wished a word with him.”

“That's what I thought,” said Roo. He instructed the boy, “Return and say to Mr. Masterson that Rupert Avery of Avery and Son and the grandson of the Duke of Krondor would appreciate a moment of his time.”

At mention of the Duke, Dash made a theatrical half-bow, with a wicked grin, and Kurt's face drained of color. He glanced at the now totally confused waiter and said, “Do it!”

Two men returned with the waiter a few moments later. To Rupert's surprise and pleasure, one of them was Sebastian Lender. “Young Avery,” said Lender, holding out his hand. They shook.

“Gentlemen, may I present Dashel, grandson of the Duke of Krondor and the newest member of my company.”

“And may I present Jerome Masterson,” said Lender, referring to the stocky man at his side. Masterson wore a shortcut black beard shot with grey, and his hair was cut straight at his collar. His clothing was finely made but of plain design, and he wore a minimum of jewelry.

“Please, come with me,” said Masterson, leading them into the main room of the coffee house.

As they left a gaping Kurt behind, Roo turned and said, “My cousin Duncan will be along sometime soon. Please show him to our table the moment he arrives.”

The order for coffee was put in as they settled around a large table in the corner, and Masterson said, “Your grandfather and I are old friends, Dash. Boyhood friends.”

Dash grinned. “I think I understand.”

Roo did as well. Given what he overheard that night outside the headquarters of the leader of the Mockers, he guessed that the Duke wasn't the only former thief to have migrated to a lawful existence. Then there was always the chance that despite his proper appearance, he was still a thief.

Masterson said, “You look enough like him . . . it's uncanny. Do you take after him in other ways?” he asked with a wink.

Dash laughed. “I've climbed a wall or two in my time, but I've never picked up the knack for cutting purses. My mother frowned on that sort of thing.”

They all laughed, and the coffee was served. As each man fixed his cup the way he liked it, Lender said, “So, Mr. Avery. I was conducting some routine business with one of my clients when your message came to us. What is this about?”

Roo glanced at Masterson, who nodded. “Lender is my litigator and solicitor, so he would be here even if you didn't know him. I am right in assuming this isn't a social call, am I not?”

“You are indeed, sir,” said Roo. Clearing his throat, he said, “I am looking to form a syndicate.”

Lender glanced at Masterson, and then asked, “You mean join a syndicate?”

“No, I mean to form one specifically for an investment.” Masterson said, “I am a partner in several. It might be far easier to propose you as a member of one than to build one from scratch.”

Roo said, “I only worked here a short time, but as I understand the workings of such, if I join a syndicate and propose a venture and the partners vote it down, then I'm out of luck.”

“Yes, that's true,” said Masterson.

“But if I propose the creation of one for the specific purpose of the venture, then only those who wish to participate will accept partnership, and we go forward.”

“That is also true,” said Lender.

“Well, before we rush down that avenue,” said Masterson, “let's hear something about your venture so I can judge the wisdom of starting from scratch.”

Roo hesitated, but it was Dash who spoke. “You're going to have to tell someone sooner or later, Mr. Avery.”

Roo sighed. His biggest fear was of telling someone in a position to take advantage of the news without benefiting himself. He knew it unlikely from anyone who was recommended by the Duke and a client of Lender's, but he still hesitated.

“Go on,” said Lender.

“I mean to underwrite shipping.”

“There are dozens of such syndicates already,” said Masterson. “Why do we need a new one?”

“I want to specialize in grain shipments to the Free Cities.” Masterson and Lender looked at each other. Masterson said, “That's usually a fairly short-gain, low-risk venture, young man—unless the Quegans are in a raiding mood. But as they've been quiet of late, one must suspect you've a different reason to wish to specialize in a relatively dull enterprise.”

Roo colored a bit. “I have reason to believe that
the demand for such transport is likely to go up soon and that there will be a very heavy increase in shipping to the Free Cities, so I thought I would be in a position to set up some multiple-voyage underwriting.”

Masterson looked at Lender. “The lad knows something.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “Out with it, Rupert. I give you my word that whatever it is, you shall be entitled to a full share based on both your participation and your news.”

Roo glanced at the other three faces and quietly said, “Locusts.”

“I knew it!” said Masterson, slapping the table.

Lender said, “You knew there were locusts in the Free Cities?”

“No,” answered Masterson. “I knew there was something that gave him an edge.” Again lowering his voice, he said, “There's a type of insect called the twenty-year locust that breeds out there. They're due next year, but sometimes they come a year early and sometimes they come a year late. Any news they are in fact on their way . . .” Masterson looked up and signaled to a waiter, who hurried over. Masterson said, “Would you see if Mr. Crowley and Mr. Hume are upstairs, please? If they are, ask them to please join us.”

Turning to Roo, Masterson said, “How reliable is your source?”

Roo was loath to tell him the news was from a fugitive sea trader dealing in stolen gems. “I'd say it's fairly reliable.”

Masterson stroked his beard. “There are several ways to play this. Each matches risk to reward.”

Two men approached and Masterson indicated
they should sit. He introduced everyone. Hume and Crowley were a pair of investors who had participated in several different syndicates with Masterson.

“Our young friend here”—he indicated Roo—“brings us word of a shortage of grain in the Free Cities. How do you react to that news?”

“How much of a shortage?” asked Crowley, a thin, suspicious-looking fellow.

Roo lowered his voice and once again said, “Locusts.”

“Who is your source?” asked Hume, a soft-looking man with a wheezing in his chest.

“A Quegan trader put in at Sarth two weeks ago and mentioned in passing to a business associate of mine that they had been found on a farm outside Margrave's Port.”

Masterson said, “That would be the logical place for them to first show up.”

“If it's as bad as when I was a boy,” said Hume, “they could spread up to Ylith and into Yabon. There would be serious shortages in the West.”

“And if they go over the mountains into the Far Coast region, even more,” said Crowley.

Masterson turned to face Roo. “There are three basic ways we can approach this news, my young friend.” He held up a finger. “We can attempt to buy grain now, storing it away in warehouses, and wait for the demand to increase.” He held up a second finger. “We can do as you suggest and underwrite the cost of shipping the grain to the Far Coast, making our profit irrespective of the profit potential in each shipment of grain.” He held up the third finger. “Or we can try to control the grain without purchasing it.”

“Options?” said Crowley.

Nodding, Masterson said to Roo. “Do you know about options?”

Roo decided trying to appear more clever than he was would work against him in this situation. “Not really.”

“We agree to buy grain at a price from a group of growers here in the area. But rather than buy it, we purchase the right to buy it, for a small part of the costs. If we fail to purchase it, we lose the option money.

“The benefit is that we can control a huge amount of grain for a relatively small amount of gold.”

“But the risk is you lose everything if the price goes down,” said Dash.

“Yes,” said Crowley. “You do understand.” Masterson said, “I propose we hedge our positions by buying some grain at market, options on the rest.”

“What about the underwriting?” said Roo.

Masterson said, “I've never been keen on underwriting. Ships sink. If what you say turns out to be true, we'll be sending grain out on anything that floats, and some of the craft will likely sink. Let someone else assume the risk and we'll pay a tiny premium.” Masterson was quiet a moment, then said, “I think we option the entire amount. What hedge we have with grain purchase is trivial if the price doesn't rise. We diminish our risk by little, but we diminish our profit potential a great deal.”

Hume sighed. “You always win at cards, too.” He thought a moment. “But you make sense. If we are to gamble, then let us gamble.”

Crowley said, “Agreed.”

This was all going too quickly for Roo, and he
said, “How much will this cost?”

“How much gold do you have?” asked Crowley. Roo tried to remain calm as he said, “I can put about twenty thousand sovereigns on the table this week.”

Masterson said, “A tidy sum. Between us we can raise a hundred thousand. That should prove sufficient for our needs.”

“What's our potential gain?” asked Dash, ignoring the fact he was considered Roo's assistant.

Hume laughed and coughed. “If there is a massive grain shortage in the Free Cities, a five-to-one return is not out of the question. If it spreads to Yabon and Crydee, ten-to-one is not outside possibility.”

Masterson added, “If all goes as we hope, young Mr. Avery, your twenty thousand golden sovereigns could be two hundred thousand within the next three months.”

Roo was almost speechless, but then Lender said, “Or it could be nothing.”

Roo felt a cold chill run up his back.

Masterson said, “I propose a new syndicate, gentlemen. We shall be the Krondor Grain Traders Association. Would you draw up the papers, Mr. Lender?”

Then he turned to Roo and stuck out his hand. “Welcome to our syndicate, Mr. Avery.”

Roo stood and solemnly shook hands with his three new business partners. As the other men moved away from the table, Masterson said, “We'll post your name as a member, and you'll be able to join us up there.” He pointed to the private upper gallery, restricted to members only. Roo had served coffee up there, but would never have been allowed to set foot
there otherwise. “I'll see you to the door.”

Lender left as well, and Masterson put his hand on Roo's shoulder as they walked toward the main entrance. “When can you have your gold here, Rupert?”

“Within the next two days, Mr. Masterson.”

“Call me Jerome.”

“Call me Roo; everyone does.”

“Very well, Roo. Get it here as soon as possible, and Lender will send word to your office when the papers are ready to be signed.”

As they reached the door, Roo saw Duncan entering through one door. Through the other came an older man, whom Roo recognized as Jacob Estherbrook. But next to him walked a young woman so beautiful that Roo almost stumbled. He saw Duncan's mouth open at the sight of her.

She was perfect, thought Roo. Her hair was done up in a current fashion that framed her face in curls, and ringlets hung down the back of her head, a halo of gold. Her eyes were enormous and the blue of late winter skies, and her cheeks held a hint of blush. Her figure was slender and she carried herself like royalty.

“Ah, Estherbrook!” said Masterson. “There's someone here I want you to meet.”

Estherbrook nodded as Masterson opened the swinging gate at the rail, ignoring the flustered-looking waiter who had tried to get there first after opening the door of the carriage from which the Estherbrooks had descended.

“Sylvia,” said Masterson, nodding in greeting.

“Good day, Mr. Masterson,” said the girl with a smile that made Roo's blood pound.

“Jacob Estherbrook,” said Masterson, “one of our most important members, may I present to you our newest member, Mr. Rupert Avery.”

Estherbrook's expression remained unchanged. But something about his eyes bothered Roo. Estherbrook said, “Grindle and Avery?”

Roo said, “It's now Avery and Son, sir.” He held out his hand.

Estherbrook regarded the proffered hand a moment, then shook, a quick grip and release that made it clear this was no more than a formality. Something in his manner communicated to Roo that Mr. Estherbrook didn't think much of Barret's newest member.

Then Roo caught himself being regarded coolly by Sylvia, and now he was certain: the Estherbrooks of Krondor didn't particularly care for the company of. one Rupert Avery. Roo slowly turned toward Dash, while finding himself unable to take his eyes off Sylvia. “Ah . . .” he began. “May I present my new assistant?”