Rise of a Merchant Prince (35 page)

“Enough to fill a ship, Mr. Avery.”

Roo turned to Dash. “Is what arrived today enough to fill his ship?”

Dash said, “I think so.”

Roo said, “Good. To price: what do you offer?”

The Captain said, “You have the wheat here, in Krondor?”

“Yes, I can have it at the docks at first light.”

The Captain got a calculating look on his face. Roo knew what he was thinking: if he could grab the wheat before word got around about the shortage, he might make enough of a profit for the ship's owner to make it worth having his crew forgo any shore leave. At last he said, “I'm prepared to offer two silver pieces of common weight”—the agreed-upon size of the coins used to trade between the Free Cities—“for three bushels of wheat at dockside tomorrow.”

Roo said, “I'll take a silver per bushel.”

“Three silvers per four bushels,” said the Captain.

Roo said, “I'll take a silver and a copper per bushel.”

“Wait a minute!” exploded the Captain. “You just set a price of a silver per. Now you raise it?”

“Yes,” said Roo, “and in a minute it will be a silver and two coppers.” Then he leaned forward and said very quietly, “Locusts.”

The Captain's face flushed and he looked as if someone had just lit a fire in his trousers, but after glaring at Roo a long moment, he stuck out his hand and said, “Done! A silver and copper per bushel at dockside at first light.”

Roo turned and put his hand on Dash's shoulder and steered him out of the customs house. “It's going to work,” he said when they had cleared the street.

The next morning the wagons paraded to the docks, unloading the grain onto barges that carried it out to the ship. The Captain and Roo both stood by comparing tallies, while stevedores hauled the large sacks of grain off the wagons and carried them down the gangplanks to the barges.

By midday the tally was done and the two men compared figures. Roo knew the Captain was intentionally counting light and showed six less bushels than Roo. For slightly more than a half-piece in gold, Roo thought he'd let the Captain have his little triumph. “I'll accept your figure, Captain.”

The Captain motioned to his mate, who produced a chest, out of which the Captain counted sacks of gold. He let Roo inspect the contents of each bag, and when the transaction was done, Roo handed the contents to Duncan, who stood nearby with a chest that would be taken to the countinghouse where Roo now had his accounts established.

As they led the now empty wagons from the dock, Roo rode next to Duncan on the lead wagon. He felt an elation unlike anything he had known in his life. “It's going to work,” he said to no one.

“What?” asked Duncan.

Roo couldn't contain himself any longer. He laughed long and hard, then whooped. He said, “I'm going to be a very wealthy man, cousin.”

“How very nice for you,” said Duncan dryly. Roo didn't notice his cousin's lack of enthusiasm.

The floor of the coffee house was in chaos. Grown men screamed at one another and several fights had to be broken up by waiters. McKeller could be heard saying, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, remember yourselves!” several times.

Roo had one man hurl himself across a table at him, and his battle training served him well as the man found only air where Roo had stood a moment before. The man knocked himself nearly senseless when he struck his chin on a chair.

Taking the steps two at a time, Roo found a pair of waiters protecting the upper floor from those not authorized to mount the steps. Not that the upstairs was much quieter than down below, but at least there was no brawling. Grown men seemed on the verge of breaking down in tears or screaming in frustration. Roo pushed past two angry men to find several more at tableside, confronting an equally angry-looking Masterson.

“I don't care what you say,” screamed Masterson at a pair of men who leaned over the table, their hands pressing hard into the wood. “You signed the note, you provide the wheat, or pay the market price. You have three days!”

One of the men looked enraged, but the other looked ready to beg. “I can't. Please. I'll have to sell everything I've ever acquired. I'll be penniless.”

Masterson's temper seemed on the verge of getting the best of him. “You should have thought of that before you sold me wheat you didn't have title to!”

Roo took him by the arm and over his shoulder said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, we'll be back in a moment.”

“What?” asked Jerome, still angry.

Roo tried to keep a straight face and, failing, turned his back to the others around the table so they wouldn't see him grinning. “How much?”

Masterson said, “They owe us two hundred thousand bushels of wheat, and they don't own any!” Then he suddenly realized whom he was talking to, and started to snicker. Covering his face with the back of his hand, he feigned coughing. “I don't care much for Meany over there, and his cousin Meaks
isn't much better. Thought I'd let them sweat a bit.”

“Are they involved with Jacoby?” asked Roo, keeping his voice down.

“No,” answered Jerome. “Not as far as I can tell. I did what you requested and ferreted out every syndicate or association that I thought had Jacoby participation, and they're not among them.”

Roo said, “I've been thinking. We can't ruin every investor in Krondor, else we'll have no one to do business with. What do these two do?”

Masterson suddenly grinned. “Meany has a lovely little mill he manages badly, and Meaks a bakeshop that does a tidy business not far from here. Mostly they speculate, and only on a modest scale.” He whispered. “Someone must have put the word out there was going to be a bloodletting. I've got notes here from people two or three times over, far more than they're worth if they default.”

Roo nodded. “Well, if we take Krondor Grain Traders and turn it into a permanent syndicate, it wouldn't hurt our position in future to have a few businesses we own to constantly generate gold. Would you like to own a share in a bakery and mill?”

Masterson rubbed his chin. “Not a bad notion. You and I with Crowley and Hume need to sit and discuss this. We can bully out those other partners who came late, but Brandon Crowley and Stanley Hume were with us from the start.”

“Agreed,” said Roo. He turned and went back to the table. “Mr. Meany?” he asked.

The angrier of the two men said, “Yes?”

“As I understand it, you don't have the wheat you contracted to deliver to us at the agreed-upon price?”

“You know I don't!” shouted Meany. “Someone
went out and bought up every grain from here to Great Kesh! I've word from every grain buyer in the Principality there is no wheat for sale anywhere! How can we meet these contracts if we can't buy grain?”

Roo said, “An unfortunate circumstance to find yourself in.”

The other man, Meaks, said, “Please. If we're forced to account on the due date, we'll be ruined. I have a family!”

Roo pretended to think upon it, then said, “We'll consider taking your note.”

No sooner were those words out of his mouth than Meaks was saying, “Oh, thank you, sir!” His relief brought him to the edge of tears.

Meany said, “You will?”

“At a reasonable rate of interest, and we may require property as . . .” Roo glanced at Masterson and whispered, “What's the word?”

Masterson said, “Collateral.”

“. . . collateral. Prepare a list of your holdings and return here on the due date, and we'll work something out. Can't have your family out on the streets now, can we?” said Roo pointedly to Meaks.

The two men left and Roo began dealing with the men who were coming in before the due date to plead for more time because there was no grain to buy. He noticed the notes Masterson had set aside for him to peruse, and made a mental list of the names on them. Not one of those men came to see him.

At the end of the day, Roo and his three partners, along with Sebastian Lender, sat down. Roo said, “Gentlemen, I propose we form a standing company.”

Crowley said, “Say on.”

“We have, according to Jerome, managed to achieve the single most stunning manipulation of any market in the Western Realm in the history of Barret's.”

Lender said, “I think that is a safe assessment.”

Jerome said, “Well, none of us would have expected it to turn out the way it had.”

Roo said, “My point is that we've done as well as we did because you gentlemen were steadfast. Lesser men would have broken and run.”

Crowley looked unconvinced, but Hume appeared pleased at the remark.

“I was a soldier for two terrible years,” said Roo, “and I understand the incalculable benefit of having men at your back you can trust.” He looked from face to face. “I trust you four men.”

Crowley looked genuinely moved at that.

Roo said, “I propose we keep our newfound wealth pooled, and form a new company, one as diverse and widespread as any seen before.” In his mind he knew he was proposing the formation, overnight, of a company to rival Jacob Estherbrook's far-flung holdings.

Crowley said, “And you will preside over that company?” There was a note of suspicion in his voice.

“No,” said Roo. “I'm still new at this, and while I think I have a knack for this sort of business, I also know that we got lucky.” He started to laugh. “I doubt anyone will sell a grain contract in the Kingdom for a long time without having purchased the grain in advance.”

The others laughed in return.

“No,” said Roo, “I was thinking you should preside, Brandon.” It was the first time he had used Crowley's first name.

“Me?” asked Crowley, obviously surprised.

“Well,” said Roo, turning to Jerome, “Mr. Masterson and I have, shall we say, less than pristine histories.” Masterson laughed at that. “And while I respect Mr. Hume, it seems to me you're the senior member here. Your age and experience would serve us well. I propose that you preside, and Mr. Hume could act as the company's second officer. I will be content to be but one of four partners. I will conduct a fair bit of business on my own, outside the company. Running Avery and Sons will take some of my time. And I expect we'll all have undertakings we will wish to pursue outside the company. But we're about to be confronted with many, many men who will not be able to meet the notes they sold us.” He outlined his discussion with Masterson and his offer to Meaks and Meany. “We could end up with shared interests in dozens of businesses scattered around the Bitter Sea. For that reason, gentlemen,” he said to them all, “I propose that this day
we found the Bitter Sea Trading and Holding Company.”

Masterson slammed his hand down on the table. “Damn me if you're not a shooting star, Roo Avery! I'll ride with you.”

Hume spoke next. “I will join with you; yes, I will.”

After a moment Brandon Crowley said, “Presiding Officer?” He nodded. “Very well, I will join with you also.”

Roo said, “Mr. Lender, would you be so kind as to execute an agreement to this effect?”

“I would be pleased, Mr. Avery.”

Masterson rubbed his hands together. “I think, gentlemen, it is time for a drink.” He turned his head and shouted to a nearby waiter to bring his private brandy and five glasses.

When the drinks were poured and each man held one, Masterson said, “To Mr. Rupert Avery, without whose tenacity and conviction not only would we not soon be very wealthy men, we'd probably be begging in the street.”

Roo said, “No. Please. Each of us here is due some credit. I would rather we toast”—he held up his glass—“the Bitter Sea Trading and Holding Company!”

Each man in turn said the name of the new company, and as one, they drank a toast.

The inn
was crowded.

In a dark corner five men sat, keeping their voices low despite the din of the common room. One nearly spat as he spoke, so intense was his anger. “The bloody bastard strangled the market and we're going to be ruined. You said this was going to be easy pickings. I took multiple positions in three different syndicates, all secured with the same collateral! If I default on more than one of them, I will have to flee Krondor or go to prison! You said there would be no trouble!” He pointed an accusing finger at the man across the table from him.

Timothy Jacoby leaned forward. “I promised you nothing, deWitt. I said you'd have an opportunity to make a killing.” His own anger matched that of companions. “But I never
guaranteed
you anything.”

A third man said, “This is pointless. The question is, what do we do?”

“I'm going to see Esterbrook,” answered Jacoby, standing abrubtly, so that his chair fell backwards, striking a drunk who lay facedown at the next table.
The drunk barely stirred. Jacoby glanced at the nearly comatose man. “Meet me back here in two hours. I'll have some sort of answer.”

The five men rose and left and after a minute, the drunk stood up. He was a young man of average height, and the only thing remarkable about him was his hair, which was a very pale blond, nearly white when seen in sunlight. He kept a wool sailor's cap tight on his head, so that this unusual feature was hidden. Moving with purpose, he left the room and followed the five men out the door.

Once outside the inn, the blond man glanced around until he saw a figure appear from deep within a nearby doorway. He waited until the second figure closed to him. “Well?” asked Dash of the false drunk.

“Go back and tell your employer that he's stirred up a hornet's nest. Tell him Tim Jacoby is rushing to get some answers from Jacob Estherbrook. I'm going to follow Jacoby and see if I can overhear what he and Estherbrook are going to plan.”

Dash said, “Well, at least you don't have to try to climb to the rooftops and hang upside down outside windows. You never were very good at that.”

Jimmy smiled at his younger brother. “Well, you weren't much for picking pockets, either.” He gripped his brother by the arm. “You are certain Father believes I'm out dining with you?”

Dash shrugged. “That's what I told him. Don't worry. Unless you get yourself killed, Grandfather will sort things out with Father should we run into trouble. He always does.”

“Well, hurry along. They're due to meet back here in two hours. You would do well to have someone
else inside before then, in case I can't get back ahead of Jacoby.” He patted his brother's arm. “See you later tonight.”

Dash hurried off into the darkness, and Jimmy moved to where his horse had been hidden. He mounted and rode out toward the eastern gate, looking about to ensure no one spotted him or was following him.

As he left the city gate, he caught sight of Jacoby on the road ahead, his figure outlined against the darkness by the light from the large moon, which was directly overhead. Jimmy slowed his own horse, lest he ride upon the heels of his prey.

By the time Jimmy reached the outer wall of the Estherbrook estate, he was certain getting inside would prove easy. Getting out, he thought to himself, might prove more difficult.

Like his brother, Jimmy had grown up in the palace at Rillanon, where their father, Arutha, had served with their grandfather, then Duke of Rillanon. Arutha—named for the late Prince of Krondor—had been raised in a far more genteel fashion than his father, who had been a notorious boy thief until Prince Arutha had taken him into service.

But the grandsons had listened to their grandfather James's stories, and by the ages of seven and five the palace was constantly troubled by two boys climbing walls, skipping along rooftops, picking locks, eavesdropping on state meetings, and otherwise creating difficulties far beyond what one would expect from two children of their size or experience.

By the time they were eleven and nine, the boys' father had decided that the hearty life along the frontier would teach them a thing or two. So Jimmy and
Dash had been packed off to the frontier court at Crydee, home of Duke Marcus, the King's cousin.

Their visit had lasted two years, and by the time the two brothers returned to Rillanon, they were sunburned, tougher, more self-reliant, fair trackers, better hunters, and now thoroughly incorrigible. In the subsequent five years, both sons had been thrown out of the palace by their father and grandfather several times in the hope they would discover just how lucky they were to be among the elite of the Kingdom.

Each time the boys managed rather well, living by their wits and guile, and frequently using the skills developed driving the palace staff to distraction to provide sustenance. They had even run afoul of the Thieves' Guild in Rillanon on two occasions and survived to tell the tale.

The last time they had been banished from the palace, their father had relented after three weeks and had gone looking for them, only to find they now had a controlling interest in one of the seedier bordellos along the docks. They had won it playing cards.

Jimmy tied his horse out of sight down the road, where he would likely not be seen if Jacoby came riding past before Jimmy could recover the mount. He hurried up to the gate and quickly looked it over. Two easy footholds and a handhold later and he was peeking over the top of the gate. A servant was leading Jacoby's horse toward the stable and there was no one else in sight. He heard the door to the main house close, and assumed Jacoby had just entered.

Jimmy jumped down from the wall and hurried toward the house, keeping off the pathway and stooping low beside a line of decorative shrubbery.
Reaching the house, he glanced about. He didn't know where Jacob's library was, save it was on the ground floor, and he knew that only because Dash had mentioned it.

Silently he cursed himself for not thinking of asking Dash if he knew. Ah well, he thought, preparation had never been his strong suit. Dash had the more devious mind.

He glanced into a few windows and saw no one moving. He at last found himself staring at a dim room in which only a pair of candles burned, but he could hear voices raised.

“Don't come in here and demand anything of me, Timothy!”

Dash risked a better look and was rewarded by the sight of Timothy Jacoby leaning over a desk, knuckles hard against the surface, as he yelled at Jacob Estherbrook.

“I need gold!” shouted Jacoby. “Lots of it!”

Estherbrook waved his hand as if wafting away a bad smell. “And I'm supposed to give it to you?”

“A loan, then, damn it!”

“How much?” asked Estherbrook.

“I hold option orders for sixty thousand sovereigns, Jacob. If I can't meet the order, I'm going to forfeit everything we own unless some grain comes on the market in the next three days.”

“You're worth more than sixty thousand, Timothy, a great deal more.”

“It's not the price!” Jacoby nearly shouted again. “It's the penalty for the grain not delivered. By the gods, wheat is up to three silvers a bushel and rising! There is none to be had. Every miller in the Kingdom is in Krondor howling at the grain brokers.
Someone has bought up all the contracts and there is none to be had.”

“What about all that cheap grain you have coming in from Kesh?” asked Estherbrook.

“We're delivering that tomorrow, but that's less than half the contracts we took. When I secured that grain, how was I to know that little insect and his partners would order up five times that amount? Instead of choking him on it, we're making him wealthy. The market price has doubled over the option we've secured.”

Jacob pointed at Timothy. “You got greedy, which is bad. But you were stupid, which is worse. You let your distaste for Roo Avery color your judgment. And what's more, you killed a completely innocent man for merely being his business partner. You're the only man in Krondor who won't be given a chance to negotiate his way out of this.”

“Innocent!” said Jacoby. “Ask my father about Helmut Grindle. He knew a man's throat was below his chin and which side of a dagger had the edge. He just happened to be in the way. Avery has a knack of taking goods from me that are difficult to replace, and my customers for those goods are less than forgiving.”

“Running drugs for the Mockers, again, Tim?” The disgust in Estherbrook's tone could not be hidden. “You made that bed, so lie in it alone.”

“Are you going to loan me the gold or not?” demanded Jacoby.

“How much?”

“If grain comes onto the market in the next two days, I can survive with sixty thousand gold sovereigns. That will bail out deWitt and the others who
came along because I told them. If it doesn't, you don't have enough to save my company. DeWitt won't be the only one fleeing the city to avoid prison.” He lowered his voice, and Jimmy could barely hear him as he warned, “But if I'm taken, Jacob, there are things I can tell the magistrate that might buy me a lighter sentence. I can take a few years in prison, Jacob, but you're not a young man. Think on that.”

Estherbrook considered it. He looked out the window and Jimmy ducked out of sight. He heard footsteps approach and crouched as low into the shadows as he could, holding motionless. “I thought I saw something,” he heard Estherbrook say.

“You're imagining things,” said Jacoby.

Jimmy heard the sound of a quill on parchment. “Here's a letter to my accounts keeper,” said Estherbrook. “He will honor the letter. But be warned, I am going to hold your father responsible if you default, our old friendship not withstanding.”

“Thank you, Jacob,” said Timothy, and his tone was icy. Jimmy heard the door slam and was judging how best to time his move to the wall: Jacoby's horse was in the stable and if he hurried, he might get to his own horse before Jacoby cleared the gate.

He was about to move when he heard someone enter the library. “Father?”

He chanced a peek and saw a stunning-looking young woman enter the room. He conceded that for once Dash hadn't exaggerated a woman's loveliness. He could see why Avery was smitten, as were Roo's cousin and young Jason, from what Dash had reported. Dash and Jimmy had grown up near the center of power in the Kingdom, and many beautiful women
had paid attention to the grandsons of the Duke of Rillanon as soon as they were old enough to appreciate it. They had enjoyed the benefits of such attention, and had an education regarding women and their pleasures far beyond their years, but they also had something of an askance view of them as well. Jimmy, like his brother before him, marked Sylvia Estherbrook as a very dangerous creature, one able to find powerful allies.

She said, “What was all that bellowing about? Was Tim being a bully again?”

“Trying to,” answered his father. “It seems young Avery not only has managed to survive Jacoby's attempts to bury him, but is turning the tables, as they say. I had to loan Jacoby the gold to keep him from being ruined.”

“Then Timothy will try to kill Rupert?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Will you let him?” asked Sylvia.

Jacob rose and came around the desk toward his daughter.

“I think I shall absent myself from the conflict. I think it opportune for us to visit our country home for a few weeks. By the time we return, the matter will be settled.”

“Well, if you must have someone killed, please do it soon, Father. Being out of the city is such a bore.”

Jimmy had met some calculating women in the eastern courts, but Sylvia Estherbrook was easily the most cold-blooded he had encountered. As much as he wished to hear more of this conversation, he knew he couldn't afford to let Jacoby get too far ahead of him. He started back toward the wall, wondering if it would do Avery any good to warn him. Then he considered
how beautiful Sylvia Estherbrook was, and how unlikely it was that Avery was used to the attention of such a woman, and discarded the idea as worthless.

In the dark he could hear Tim Jacoby's horse moving down the road as the gate closed. Jimmy dropped to the ground while the servant returned to the house, and when he heard the door to the house shut, he rose, ran to the wall, and quickly climbed over.

A few minutes later he was upon his horse, heading back toward Krondor. He fervently hoped Dash was already at the inn, because there was no possibility he could overtake Jacoby and resume his posture of being the drunk at the next table.

Inside the house, Jacob Estherbrook closed the door to his library behind him, and said, “Old Frederick's health isn't what it used to be, and I suspect that soon Timothy will be totally out of control. It would be better for us if either he or Rupert were to be removed from the landscape quickly. Either a very dangerous young man, who might rise to a dangerous level of power someday, or an unstable ally—potentially more dangerous than the opponent—will be removed. Either way, we profit.”

“If Roo kills Tim, how does that profit you? He's not one of your partners, and given he's going to see your hand in much of what has been going on around the city the last few months, do you think he will be inclined to do business with you?”

“If Tim kills him, that question is academic. If he kills Tim, he will be a young man of great influence, and I will groom him to help our cause. I count on your charms to make him wish to do business with
me.”

“Do you want me to marry him?”

“No, he's already married.”

She laughed, a sound both lovely and chilling. “The little rogue. He never mentioned a wife. Well then, I shall just have to seduce the ugly twit and become his mistress.”

“But only if Tim doesn't kill him, daughter.”

“Yes, Father. Now, would you care for supper?”

Roo sat motionless as Tim Jacoby stalked forward and threw papers down upon the table. Masterson was the one to pick them up, and he said, “You have the grain, then?”