Rise of a Merchant Prince (33 page)

He hurried back to Barret's and found his three
partners almost alone in the upper gallery. He sat down and told them, “Someone is bringing a huge shipment of poor-quality grain to Krondor.”

“Are you certain?”

Crowley repeated his question of earlier that day. “Why buy grain you can't sell?”

Roo said, “Someone knows we're writing contracts on options. Someone also knows that we must either pay the full price or forfeit the option price. So they bring grain into the city, enough to meet the contract demand, that we refuse to buy. They keep the contract money and dump the grain.”

“But they'll lose money!” said Crowley.

“Not that much. But more than offset by the contract price. And if their purpose is to break us, not make a profit, they won't care if they lose a small amount.”

Hume said, “That's predatory.”

“Very predatory,” said Masterson, “and brilliant.”

“What do we do?” asked Hume.

Roo said, “Gentlemen, I have been a soldier, and now it's time to test your resolve. Either we can stop buying, and count what we've contracted for so far as a loss, or we can seek to turn this to our advantage. But it will take more gold than we have so far pledged to make this work for us.”

“What do you propose?” said Masterson.

“We stop taking contracts. From this moment on, we say no and our counteroffers must be a margin of what is being offered—so low that no one will take our offers, but enough to let them know we are still in business.”

“Why?” said Crowley.

“Because each day a huge shipment of grain,
sixty wagons being provided by Jacoby and Sons, is working its way to Krondor.” He glanced at one of the offer sheets still on the table. “To be delivered at the docks in forty-nine days. Each day that passes, each day that goes without the buyer of that wheat having someone to sell it to, his concern will rise, for if that grain reaches Krondor before all of it is optioned, then that seller will have to dump it in the harbor. Eventually he will sell at our price, assuming that he will still break us.”

“How do we counter this?” said Hume.

“We buy every contract in Krondor, gentlemen. If by the time the wheat reaches the city we own every kernel of wheat between here and Ylith, then we can ship the high-quality grain to the Free Cities and the Far Coast, recoup our investment, and make our profit.”

“What do we do with the grain from Kesh?” said Masterson.

“We sell it to farmers for their stock, the army, whoever, as fodder. If we can merely break even on that grain, then the rest will make us wealthy beyond our ambition. Twenty-to-one, thirty-to-one—a hundred-to-one return on our investment.”

Masterson grabbed a pen and started scribbling. He worked in silence for nearly ten minutes. “Given what we've seen so far, we need at least another two hundred thousand sovereigns. Gentlemen, we need to attract more partners. See to it.”

Crowley and Hume hurriedly left the table and Masterson said, “Roo, I hope you're correct.”

“What price do we need to reach to make this a can't-fail proposition?”

Jerome Masterson laughed. “If the grain was free,
I wouldn't say it was ‘can't fail.' We need to store this grain, and if the shortage in the Free Cities doesn't materialize, we may all be driving wagons for Jacoby and Sons before we're done.”

“I'll sail back to hell before that,” said Roo.

Masterson signaled a waiter and said, “Bring me my special cache of brandy and two glasses.” To Roo he said, “Now we wait.”

Roo drank the brandy, when it appeared and found it excellent.

Masterson looked at some of the pile of notes before him, and frowned.

“What is it?” asked Roo.

“This doesn't make much sense. I think it's a mistake. We're being offered the same contract, basically, twice by the same group.” Then he nodded. “Ah, there it is. It's easy to see why I made the mistake. It's not the same group. It just looks like it.”

Roo turned his head, as if listening to something. “What did you just say?”

“I said this group looks like that group,” he said, pointing to the two notes.

“Why?”

“Because, save for one investor, they're identical.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they're greedy?” suggested Masterson. He sighed. “Sometimes people offer contracts they have no intention of fulfilling, if they suspect the other party is going to go broke. If they take our money now, and we go under, they'll just shrug when the contract is due. Whom do they deliver to? they'll say.” He shrugged. “It may be word is spreading we're in trouble.”

“Trouble,” repeated Roo. Then a thought occurred to him. After a while a plan formed in his mind. Suddenly he said, “Jerome, I have it!”

“What?” said Masterson.

“I know how we can not only turn this to our profit, but ruin those who are trying to ruin us.” He realized he was speaking over the top, and said, “Well, if not ruin them, certainly cause them pain.” Then he grinned. “But I do know how we're going to make an obscene profit on this wheat business.” He looked Masterson in the eye. “Even if there is no shortage in the Free Cities.”

Masterson was suddenly very attentive. Roo said, “I guarantee it.”

The rider
reined in.

The farmers walking home from a long day tending their wheat were surprised as he turned his mount in their direction and approached. Without word they spread out and waited, for while it was peaceful times, the rider was obviously armed and one never knew what to expect of strangers.

The rider removed a large-brimmed hat, revealing himself to be a young man with curly brown hair. He smiled and it was also clear he was little more than a boy. “Greetings,” he called.

The farmers responded with salutations of their own, little more than grunts. They resumed walking, for these tired workingmen didn't have time to spend in idle chatter with some bored noble's son out for an evening ride.

“How goes the harvest?” asked the youth.

“Well,” answered one of the farmers.

“Have you set a price?” asked the rider.

At this all the farmers stopped walking again. The boy was talking about the two things that interested
these men most in the world: wheat and money.

“Not yet,” said the farmer. “The brokers from Krondor and Ylith won't be here for another two or three weeks.”

“How much do you want for your wheat?” asked the boy. Suddenly the farmers were silent, looking from one to another. Then one asked, “You look like no broker I've met. Are you a miller's son?”

The young man laughed. “Hardly. My grandfather was a thief, if truth be told. My father . . . is in service to the Duke of Krondor.”

“What's your interest?” asked another farmer.

“I represent a man who is seeking to buy wheat, but who is anxious to set a price now.”

That set the farmers to talking low among themselves. After a minute, the farmer who had first spoken said, “This is unusual. We're not even sure of the yields yet.”

The boy looked from face to face. Finally he pointed to one man and said, “How long have you farmed this land?”

The man said, “My entire life. It was my father's field before me.”

“Do you mean to say you don't know to within a bushel how much grain that field will produce in a year like this?”

The man blushed and grinned. “Well, truth to tell, I can.”

“So can you all,” said the young man. “Here's my offer: set us a price now, and you'll be paid
now.
We'll take delivery at harvest.”

The farmers looked amazed. “Get paid now?”
asked one.

“Yes.”

Suddenly prices were being shouted so fast the rider couldn't understand any. He said, “Enough!” and held up his hand. He dismounted, held out his reins for a farmer, then pulled some writing instruments from his saddlebags.

The first farmer set a price for a thousand bushels of wheat and the rider nodded. He countered and the dickering was on. When they were done, he wrote down names on the parchment he had taken from his saddlebags. Next to each agreed-upon price and amount he had them make their marks, and then began to count out pieces of gold.

As the rider left, the farmers could not believe their luck. While the price wasn't the best possible, it was fair, and they had the money now.

As Dash rode north, he felt sore in his back and shoulders.

He had been to a dozen villages like this one over the last three days and knew that Duncan, Roo, and Luis were doing as he was. But he knew if he rode hard he could make the last village before Sarth just after sundown, which meant that after some dickering with the locals over wheat prices, he could pass along some messages to John Vinci for Roo, sleep a sound night in an inn, then return to Krondor in the morning.

He put heels to the flank of his mount and took her to a tired trot as the sun sank in the west.

As the week ended, four tired riders returned to Krondor and met at Roo's warehouse. Dash grinned as he said, “If there's a grain of wheat between here
and Sarth we don't own, it's in some horse's nosebag.”

Luis said, “The same for here to Land's End.” Duncan said, “I don't know if I bought all the wheat between here and the Vale route, but I spent all the gold you gave me.” He handed his cousin his list of farms and prices.

Roo said, “I did the same from here to the foothills.” He looked at the accounts and said, “lf this doesn't work, we may want to reconsider joining the King's Army.”

Dash said, “I have other options.” With a grin, he added, “I hope.”

Roo said, “I have to get home and change. I'm dining with Jacob Estherbrook tonight.”

Dash and Duncan exchanged glances. Duncan's face turned unreadable, while Dash just continued to grin. Jason asked, “Do you think Sylvia will be there?”

Roo smiled. “I'm counting on it.”

Luis's brow furrowed at that, but he said nothing.

Roo left the shop and hurried home. He found Karli in the sitting room, rocking the baby and singing a tune to her. Roo halted and walked quietly into the room, seeing that the baby was sleeping.

Karli whispered, “She's been fussy.” Roo kissed his wife on the cheek. “Did your plan go well?”

“We'll know within a week.”

“I would love to hear about it over supper. She should sleep awhile.”

Roo blushed. “In all the frenzy, I neglected to tell you I'm dining out tonight. I am sorry.”

Karli said, “You just got home.”

“I know, but it's important. More business.”

Karli said, “Business, tonight?”

Roo's exhaustion, his anxiety, and his impatience to see Sylvia Estherbrook again came together and caused him to speak more harshly than he had intended. “Yes! Business tonight! I'm having supper with one of the most important investors in the Kingdom!”

Abigail started awake and began to cry at her father's loud voice. Karli' s eyes flashed anger, but her voice was a controlled hiss as she said, “Shush. You've woken your daughter.”

Roo wave his hand. “I'm sorry. Deal with her. I've got to clean up and change.” Turning his back, he shouted, “Mary! I need a tub of hot water!”

His shout caused his daughter to cry even louder. Karli's face was a mask of control, but her eyes never left her husband's back as he vanished up the stairs to clean up for his dinner engagement.

Roo hurried, and despite having bathed he felt hot and sweaty under his new clothing. He paused before the gate to the Estherbrook house. He should have driven out in a hired carriage instead of riding out, he thought. Instead of showing up at the Estherbrook door calm and relaxed, he was nearly breathless.

He knocked and almost instantly the postern door in the gate opened and a groom stepped through. “Yes?”

“I am Rupert Avery. I'm to dine with Mr. Estherbrook,” answered Roo.

“Yes, sir,” said the groom, and he disappeared through the small door. A moment later the gate swung wide.

Roo rode into the grounds of the Estherbrook estate and he was dutifully impressed. The house was located on a hillside on the eastern edge of the city, high enough above the next
estate that it felt almost rural, though it had taken Roo only a half hour to ride there. The high stone wall had masked the house from his view as he had ridden up the narrow road, except for a small tower of some sort.

Now Roo could see that the tower was actually a constructed observation platform, with a small peaked roof, but with windows looking in four directions. Roo wondered why it was there, then considered it was a perfect place from which to observe the comings and goings at both the caravansarais to the southeast and ships in the harbor. Two moons had risen, and Roo saw a glint of metal and smiled to himself as he dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to the groom. Estherbrook must have one of those clever viewing glasses up there.

The house otherwise was what he had expected. Two stories in height, it was large, but not palatial by any measure. There were gardens, as Roo could smell blooms in the evening. Lights appeared at several windows and there were sounds of activity from within.

Roo knocked on the door and it opened a moment later. Expecting a servant, Roo was rendered nearly breathless by the sight of Sylvia Estherbrook herself answering his knock.

“Mr. Avery,” she said with a smile that made his stomach hurt. She wore a deep-plunging gown that revealed she wasn't quite as slender as Roo had thought. It was a pale blue designed to highlight her eyes.

She wore a necklace of diamonds and no other
jewelry. Roo barely got “hello” out as he stepped inside.

“May I take your cloak?” she asked.

Roo fumbled with the tie at his neck and then finally got the new cloak unfastened. “Father is waiting for you in his private room. Down the hail and to the left,” she said, pointing out the way. “I'll hang this up and see to supper.”

Roo watched as she vanished through a door to the right, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Totally intoxicated by the sight of the girl, he knew that dealing with her father was as dangerous as going into combat.

Roo made his way along the hall, glancing through two open doors to see modest rooms with single beds, tables, and nightstands. Servant's quarters? he wondered.

He reached the large door at the end of the hall, barely seen in the dim hallway—only a single candle on a table halfway along the hall's length illuminated the way. From inside, a voice said, “Enter, please.”

Roo opened the large door and stepped inside. Jacob Esterbrook was rising from behind a large desk in the middle of what Roo could only consider a library. He had seen a room in the Prince's palace once when he was training there that had as many books, and was astonished to discover that someone who wasn't royalty had this many in his possession. The room was lit by a pair of candles, one on Estherbrook's desk and another on a reading stand set against the wall opposite the door, two pools of light in the otherwise dark library.

As he approached the desk, in the dim light Roo saw another figure standing near the wall. Then Roo
saw there were two men in the darkness. They stepped forward and Roo's hand reflexively went to his side, where his knife usually hung.

“Now, now,” said Estherbrook as if reassuring a pair of children. Into the light came Tim Jacoby, and a younger man, one who looked enough like him that he could only be his brother.

“Mr. Avery, I believe you've already met Timothy Jacoby. This other gentleman is his brother, Randolph.” He glanced toward the door and said, “They were just leaving.”

Roo stood stiffly as if ready to defend himself. Tim Jacoby said nothing, but his brother said, “Mr. Avery?” with a nod of his head.

“Mr. Jacoby,” Roo responded, nodding back. Neither man offered to shake the other's hand.

Tim turned as they walked toward the door and said, “I will be in touch, Jacob.”

“I expect you will, Timothy,” said Estherbrook. “Give my regards to your father.”

“I will,” answered Tim.

Estherbrook said, “We took a bit longer to finish our business than I had anticipated. I'm sorry if their presence here caused you any alarm.”

Roo said, “It was unexpected.”

“Sit,” said Estherbrook, motioning Roo to a chair at the other side of his large desk. “We have a bit of time before Sylvia fetches us for supper.”

Estherbrook said, “I have made inquiries about you, young Avery.” He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. Roo had never seen him without his hat and saw the man was bald above his ears, but he let the rest of his grey hair hang to his collar in back. He affected long muttonchop sideburns,
but otherwise was clean-shaven. A look of wry amusement passed over his face.

“Your notion of importing bulk wine from Darkmoor had merit. I think it an enterprise worth pursuing. It's too bad you ran afoul of the Mockers. Had I known about you, I could have saved you some loss and saved Sam Tannerson his life.”

Roo said, “I'm impressed at your knowledge of the details.”

Estherbrook made a gesture of dismissal with his right hand. “Information is valuable, but easy to come by if you have resources.” He leaned forward and said, “Remember this: of all the commodities men trade in, information is the most valuable by far.”

Roo nodded. He wasn't sure he fully understood what Estherbrook was saying, or if he agreed. He decided this wasn't a debate or even a discussion but most likely a lecture.

“Now, I hope that in the future you and Timothy Jacoby can put aside your differences, however deep the animosity runs, because I might find it difficult to do business with two men who are at any moment likely to kill each other.”

Roo said, “I wasn't aware that we are doing business.”

Estherbrook smiled and there was nothing friendly or warm in it. “I think fate has touched you, young Avery. Certainly you have advanced to a station of some notice in a rapid fashion. Marrying Helmut Grindle's daughter gave you some resources that most men your age would envy, but you've prospered far beyond that. Obviously you are well thought of in the palace. Mr. Jacoby's father was very upset that
your company received the contract to transport goods to the palace; he thought he was the logical choice.

“You've cut him badly, twice, I believe, in areas of less reputable trading.”

Roo was forced to laugh. “One thing I've learned, despite my youth, Mr. Estherbrook, is not to admit anything.”

Estherbrook laughed, and this time there was genuine amusement in his reaction. “Very well said.” He sighed. “Well then, whatever occurs, I hope we can all manage to work in harmony.”

Roo said, “I have a debt to pay, Mr. Estherbrook, but you are not part of that.”

“Well, at this point, no,” said Estherbrook.

A knock came from the door and Roo was out of his chair as the door opened and Sylvia peeked through. “Supper is served.”

Estherbrook said, “We mustn't keep the lady of the manor waiting.”