Rise of a Merchant Prince (32 page)

He took the paper from Masterson and scribbled a note on it. “I'm telling him we'll pay three percent for fifty thousand at four coppers per bushel, with a five-percent-per-week penalty for late delivery after sixty days.”

Masterson almost snorted his coffee. He laughed. “You're going to make him very curious.”

“Let him wonder.”

Hume looked at Roo. “You'll meet Amested and the others below in time. He's always trying to find
out who is doing what, without taking risks himself. If he thinks there's a killing, he'll try to buy the wheat now, at what we call future prices, and then hold it for us at an inflated price, after we've exhausted our options. He offered us a price he knew we'd say no to, and we just made a counteroffer that we know he'll say no to.”

Roo said, “But why not offer him a price he'll say yes to?”

Masterson said, “Your meaning?”

“I mean his coins are gold, as much as any man's, and we don't care if he makes or loses money in this as long as we make ours. If we can use this man to set a price and he comments upon it, and the word gets out . . .” Roo shrugged.

Crowley' s leathery old face split in a wide grin. “You're a shrewd young one, aren't you, Avery?”

Masterson held out his hand, and Crowley handed back the note. Masterson balled it up and threw it away and indicated the young waiter should bring him new parchment and pen. When that was delivered, he wrote a note. “I'm telling him what we'll pay, straight out. Ten percent against a price of one silver per bushel delivered at the docks in sixty days. We guarantee up to one million gold sovereigns with a security of one hundred thousand.”

Old Hume was now almost splitting his sides trying to control his laughter. “This is priceless. It's exactly what we're doing, but now old Amested will be certain we're lying to him and be trying to figure out what it is we're really up to.”

The waiter was given the note and instructed to carry it back to the sender of the earlier note. A few minutes later, Duncan and Dash appeared, carrying
the chest of gold. They required the help of two waiters and Lender stood up at once, saying, “We'd better get that treasure to a countinghouse before raiders come looking for us.”

The gold was deposited and accounted, and a letter of credit in the amount of twenty-one thousand golden sovereigns was provided to Roo, who turned it over to Lender. Then they returned to the coffee house.

Over the course of the day, notes would appear and Masterson would read them, comment on them, and occasionally write a reply. Once in a while he would simply say, “No,” and hand the note back to the waiter.

At the end of the day, he stood and said, “This has been a good start, gentlemen. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Roo rose and discovered that Dash and Duncan had spent the entire day downstairs, waiting for him. He cursed himself for a fool. His own anxiety over this investment had completely occupied his mind and made him forget he had a freight business to conduct.

“Head back to the office and tell Jason I'm on my way,” he said to Dash. When the young nobleman was gone, Roo said to Duncan, “Why don't you go looking for a nice pair of rooms for you and Luis. Our accounts are settled and I can pay to get you into more comfortable quarters at once.”

Duncan grinned. “About time.” Then he said, “If we're to be spending time with people of quality, cousin, we need to do something about our wardrobes.”

Suddenly Roo felt shabby for the first time in his
life. He said, “In the morning.”

As Duncan ran off, Roo looked around Barret's, drinking in the fact that he was now an investor. As he made to leave, a voice sounded out of the shadows of a table back under the overhang. “Mr. Avery, a word with you, sir.”

Avery recognized the voice of Jacob Estherbrook and moved toward the table. At the table he saw two figures, and his pulse began to race as he recognized the other man as Tim Jacoby.

Jacoby looked at Roo and said nothing as Estherbrook said, “I believe you know my business associate, Mr. Jacoby?”

Roo said, “We've met.”

Estherbrook said, “I hope that in the future you gentlemen will put aside your differences.” He made no pretense of not knowing there was bad blond between Roo and Tim. “It would be my most sincere wish to see such differences vanish in the future.”

Jacoby stood and looked at Roo, saying nothing to him. To Estherbrook he said, “I'll pay my respects tomorrow, Jacob.”

After he left, Estherbrook said, “Sit down, please.”

Roo did, and after signaling for some more coffee, Estherbrook said, “Mr. Jacoby's father and I are old business associates, and more, friends. Frederick and I started out together, here in Krondor. We began as teamsters.”

Roo said, “My father was a teamster.”

For the first time since Roo met the man, Jacob Estherbrook looked at him with genuine interest. He asked, “Is that so?”

Roo nodded.

“Can you drive a team, Mr. Avery?”

Roo smiled and said, “I can drive a team, Mr. Estherbrook. Six horses without breaking a sweat, eight if I keep my mind on things.”

The man laughed, a genuine sound of amusement and perhaps even with a hint of affection. “A teamster. Imagine that.” He sighed. “Perhaps that's why my daughter finds you so interesting.”

At mention of Estherbrook's daughter, Roo found his heart pounding. He forced himself to remain as calm as possible. “Oh?” he said, trying to sound only mildly interested.

“Sylvia is a . . . difficult child,” said Estherbrook. “A young woman with a mind of her own. I have little understanding of what captures her fancy. Which brings me to my reason for asking you to join me. She requests you join us for supper at the end of this week. Will you?”

Roo didn't hesitate. “Certainly.”

“Good,” said Estherbrook, sipping his coffee. “Then we can discuss what we shall do if you find you must kill Mr. Jacoby.”

Roo felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown on him. Calmly he said, “Oh, I shall someday kill him, have no doubt. He murdered my partner.”

Estherbrook shrugged, as if that were of little importance. “Well, if we can find a way to avoid that, my lot in life would be easier.” He put down the cup. “And be warned, while you are presently well connected at the palace, you are not the only one. My friend Frederick Jacoby also counts powerful men as friends.” Leaning over, he whispered, “if you must kill his sons, be discrete about it, will you, now? And if you can manage, some advance warning so I may
distance myself from the Jacobys would be appreciated also.” Patting Roo on the shoulder, he made his way around the table. “My coach is now outside. I will see you for supper on Fifthday.”

Roo sat alone for a minute, wondering at this new world of intrigue he found himself in. The polite manner in which Estherbrook discussed murder bothered him as much as anything he had witnessed during the war.

Then he thought of seeing Sylvia on Fifthday and his heart almost beat out of his chest. Forcing himself to calmness, he realized he must do as Duncan suggested and improve his wardrobe.

He stood up and left, and until he reached his shop and Jason brought matters of trade to his attention, he couldn't stop thinking about Sylvia Estherbrook.

During the week, Roo fell into a routine. He left home at first light, stopped by the shop and went over the day's shipments with Luis, Duncan, Jason, and Dash, then went on to Barret' s. Sometimes Duncan or Dash would accompany him, depending on what else needed to be done at the shop. Other times he went alone.

Duncan had found a small house to rent not too far from the office, with two bedrooms. Roo told him to hire a cook. Jason and Dash spruced up their own quarters at the shop and seemed to be becoming fast friends. While Jason was a few years older than Dash, it was clear from his manner and comments that Dash was old beyond his years and far more worldly than Jason.

Roo followed Duncan's suggestion and visited a
tailor recommended to him by Lender. He supplied Roo with clothing fit for both Barret's and social functions. Duncan went for far more colorful clothing, looking nothing so much like a court dandy as a former mercenary.

Jason came to him on the third day after the syndicate was formed and said, “Can I ask you something without causing offense, Mr. Avery?”

Roo said, “Certainly, Jason. You were the only one at Barret's who tried to set me right when Kurt and the others were trying to trip me up; I consider us friends. What is it?”

“What is it exactly that your cousin is doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Luis is overseeing the shipping schedule, seeing to rates, and making runs, I'm doing all the accounts and paying the workers, and Dash is helping Luis and me when either of us need him. But Duncan, well . . . well, he's just sort of . . . around.”

Thinking of the encounter on the road with the driver from Jacoby's and how Duncan could stand at his back with his sword, Roo said, “I understand your concern. Let's just say he helps me. Is there anything else?”

Jason said, “No. I just . . . well, anyway. Are you heading for the coffee house?”

Roo nodded. “I'll be there if you need me for anything.”

Roo reached Barret's less than a half hour later only to discover the upper room in quite a minor frenzy. Masterson waved him over to the table and said, “Something is going on.”

Several waiters were hovering nearby, taking pieces of paper that were being scribbled upon by
Hume and Crowley. “What is it?” asked Roo.

“We're getting offers. Many of them.”

Roo's forehead furrowed. “Where are they coming from?”

Masterson said, “Why, from other members.”

“No, I mean where is the grain coming from?”

Masterson blinked. “I don't know.”

Suddenly Roo felt certain he knew the answer. He took a waiter by the arm and said, “Send a message to my office. I want my cousin Duncan or my assistant Dash here as soon as possible.”

To the others he said, “Have we taken any positions?”

“Not yet,” said Crowley, “but the price is dropping and I'm inclined to think it's not going to go lower.”

“How low?”

“It's down to two silvers for three bushels, at eight percent secured.”

Roo lowered his voice. “I'm willing to bet one of the other brokers has sent someone east to the Vale of Dreams. Would you think that price reasonable if someone is bringing Keshian wheat north through the Vale?”

“What makes you think that?” asked Masterson.

Roo said, “Because I'm a sneaky bastard whose father drove a wagon to all parts of the Kingdom, including the border near the Vale.”

Soon Duncan showed up and Roo said, “I need you to start hitting inns near the traders' gates. Listen for Valemen. I need to know if anyone has been buying grain in Kesh, who, and how much.”

After Duncan hurried off, Crowley said, “Are you using some magic power we're ignorant of, or is this
a guess?”

“It's a guess. But before sundown I think we're going to find that as much wheat as we need, twice over, is on it its way west from the Vale.”

“Why?” said Hume. “Why do you think that?”

Grimly Roo said, “Because it's what I would do if I wanted to ruin this syndicate.” He then asked, “What sort of surety do we get regarding delivery?”

“The options are secured, so if the person offering the option defaults, he is liable under Kingdom law for the entire price, and more, for the gold we'd lose by not being able to ship the grain. To offer a contract and not make delivery would be terribly damaging . . . unless . . .”

“Unless what?” asked Roo.

“Unless the association that might bring a claim in the King's Court was already out of business and suffering suit for its own failure to meet contracts.”

Roo said, “Now I know someone is trying to ruin us.” He was silent a moment. “Do we have grounds to refuse the wheat for poor quality?”

Masterson said, “We don't. We can refuse the contract delivery only if the grain is rotten or otherwise damaged. Why?”

“Because they're paying the lowest prices, so they are going to be bringing in the cheapest grain out there.” Roo pointed at his three partners. “Who's offering these contracts?”

“Various groups,” answered Crowley.

“Who's behind them?”

Masterson's eyes focused on the pile of notes as if trying to discern a pattern. After a moment he said, “Jacob.”

Roo felt his chest constrict in panic.
“Estherbrook?”

Hume and Crowley said, “Why would he meddle in this?” Roo said, “My fault, I fear. He might find things more convenient down the road if I were reduced to poverty quickly. Your ruination would be only an unfortunate consequence, nothing personal, I'm certain.”

“What do we do?” asked Crowley.

“Well, we can't be buying wheat that even the most venal millers won't buy.” Roo considered things for a few minutes in silence, then suddenly he said, “I have it!”

“What?”

“I'll tell you when Duncan returns. Until then, do nothing, buy nothing.”

Roo rose and left, determined to sniff out some information on his own. Near sundown he discovered Duncan in an inn, in a corner, sitting quietly at a table with two oddly dressed men, mercenaries by their arms and armor. Duncan waved him over.

“Roo, these friends of mine have an interesting story.” Roo noticed that several tankards of ale had been consumed but that Duncan was as sober as the day he was born, and his ale was hardly touched.

Roo sat and introductions were made. The two mercenaries told Roo how they had been hired to guard a fast post rider who carried a message from the city of Shamata to a trader in Krondor regarding the purchase of a huge shipment of grain from down in Kesh. When he was finished, Roo rose. He threw a small pouch of gold on the table and said, “Gentlemen, pay for your room, drinks, and dinner on me. Duncan, come along.”