Rise of a Merchant Prince (31 page)

Sylvia leaned forward ever so slightly, as if to hear better. “Yes?” she asked quietly.

Dash took control. “Dashel,” he said with a smile and deep bow. “I believe you know my grandfather.”

Estherbrook said, “Indeed?”

“Duke James,” said Dash with feigned innocence.

Instantly Estherbrook's and his daughter's manner changed. He smiled and she beamed, and as her smile broadened, Rupert felt his pulse pound even more furiously. “Of course,” said Estherbrook, taking Dash's hand and gripping it warmly. “Please remember me to your grandfather when next you speak with him.”

Sylvia turned her radiant smile on Roo. “You must come to dinner soon, Mr. Avery. I insist.”

Roo could barely speak as he nodded. “I would love to.”

Dash turned to Masterson with a grin. “We must be going, sir. We'll be back tomorrow.”

“Good day, then,” said Masterson, the farewell echoed by Estherbrook and his daughter.

Dash gently propelled Roo out the door and reached out to take Duncan's arm and turn him around as they stepped through the portal into the street. To the gaping cousins he said, “You'd think you two had never seen a pretty face be-fore.”

Roo reached home late that night. It had taken half the day to deal with the news that Duncan had returned with, that it would be both possible and dangerous to dispose of the drugs but that the profit potential was very high. Katherine had also been unable to provide the name of anyone who might consider such a purchase.

Then there was the matter of housing Dash. Roo promised that he would secure quarters for Luis and Duncan in a few days, allowing Jason and Dash to share the apartment, but for the time being the newest addition to their company's roster would have to sleep in a makeshift loft above the wagons in the warehouse. If the grandson of the most powerful noble in the Kingdom was discomfited by this revelation, he hid it in good humor. Roo suspected he had seen rougher quarters during his relatively short life. He thought in passing about his asking if he was being tossed out of the palace
again.

Jason and Roo had sat up for a couple of hours
plotting the quick disposal of the gems gained in Sarth. A message was prepared for a gem broker in Salador who had been an old trading companion of Helmut Grindel's, outlining in detail what Roo had to offer, and by the time that had been disposed of, it was after dark.

Roo made it home and used his key to unlock the door. He saw that everyone was already in bed and quietly made his way upstairs. In the gloom he saw Karli asleep in the bed. There was a tiny shape next to her, and he leaned close. Then he saw the baby.

In the murk of the unlit room the child was little more than a featureless, blanket-wrapped lump, and Roo could barely make out the little bump of her nose. He waited for some strong emotion to come sweeping up out of a natural paternal well, but nothing came. Then he looked at his sleeping wife and again felt close to nothing. Standing back upright, he sighed. It was the fatigue, he told himself. And his mind rushed with concern over the coming investments. If he was being a fool, he would lose everything he had built over the last two years. While he was young and could start over again, he knew that a failure now would rob him of any future chance for greatness and riches.

As he removed his boots, a soft voice said, “Roo?”

He grunted as he dropped one boot upon the floor. “Yes,” he whispered. “I'm back.”

“How . . . are you?” she asked.

“Tired,” he said. “I have a lot to tell you, but in the morning.”

The baby stirred, then suddenly it was crying, and Roo asked, “What is wrong?”

Karli sat up in the dark and said, “Nothing. She's hungry. That's all. She needs to eat during the night, two or three times.”

Roo sat upon a small chair, one boot on, the other off, and said, “How long does this go on?”

Karli said, “For the next four months, maybe longer.”

Roo stood, picked up his boot, and said, “I'm going to sleep in your old room. There's no reason for both of us to be exhausted tomorrow and I have a great deal to do. I'll tell you about it when I get up.”

He closed the door behind him and moved to Karli's old bedroom. Stripping off his clothing, he fell into the bed where he and Karl had created their baby, and in the dark his mind raced: first exultation at the prospect of ten years' profits in a few months, then terror that he would be destitute instead. Next he plotted how he would expand once the profits were his, and then he felt fear creep up as he thought how best to recover from the coming disaster. But more and more as sleep approached, he found his mind's eye returning to the image of a wonderful face, with large blue eyes and golden hair, and a laugh that made his stomach knot. Sleep finally came with the dawn.

Roo came downstairs, his head as fuzzy as if he had been drinking the night before. He found Karli in the kitchen, nursing Abigail, and he kissed her dutifully upon the cheek. “We've missed you,” said Karli.

“It's good to be back,” he said as Rendel, the cook, poured him a steaming cup of coffee. He had developed the habit of starting the day with a cup
while working at Barret's, and had purchased beans for grinding when he first came to live in the house.

He studied the baby. The tiny figure lay in her mother's arms, her hands moving in random directions, her tiny eyes opening and closing. From time to time she would look in his direction, and he would wonder what was going on behind those slate-blue orbs. “I've never seen eyes that color,” he said.

Karli laughed. “Most babies have eyes like this. They'll turn brown or blue when she's older.”

“Oh” was all he said.

“You had a good journey?” she asked.

“Very,” he answered. “I came across some information.” He fell silent for a few moments, then blurted, “I'm forming a trading syndicate.”

Karli said, “Father was always cautious in tying up his future with others.”

Roo was in no mood to be compared to his dead father-in-law, whom Karli almost worshipped, but he took the comment as if it were merely an observation. “That discounts risk,” he agreed. “But I have ambitions beyond your father's, Karli, and if I'm to realize a rich future for you and the child, I must take some risks.”

“Is this venture risky?” she asked. She didn't seem overly concerned but rather interested.

Roo couldn't convincingly shrug it off, so he just said, “Yes.”

Roo nodded. “I think we're going to be richer than you can imagine in a few months.”

She managed a small smile. “I always thought we were rich; I know the house isn't much to look at, but Father always liked to keep a modest appearance, lest it attract undue notice. But we always had good food,
wine, new clothing. If I wanted anything, I only had to ask.”

Roo's fatigue and nerves made this conversation irritating. He finished his coffee and stood. “I have to get to the shop.” He again kissed her dutifully on the cheek and glanced down at the now sleeping baby. It appeared so alien to Roo he wondered if he would ever feel anything for the child.

“Will you be home for supper?” Karli asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “Why wouldn't I be?”

He didn't wait for a reply as he hurried out the door.

Duncan hailed Roo as he walked into the shop. “Where have you been?”

Roo looked irritated. “Sleeping. You know, when you close your eyes and don't move for a long time?”

Duncan grinned and said, “Oh, you mean dead. Look, your new business partners would like you to come to Barret's at once.”

“Jason!” Roo yelled as he turned away from his cousin. “Where are you?”

Jason and Dash came out of the small office and Jason said, “Yes?”

“Where's our gold? In the strongbox?”

“Yes.”

“How much do we have?”

“We have accounts due in later this week, but right now you have twenty-one thousand, six hundred, and forty-seven gold pieces, and a few silver coins.”

Roo told Dash and Duncan, “Put the box in a wagon and bring it to the coffee house. I'm leaving now.”

He hurried out through the front of the shop and
down the street. Moving through the crowd was as trying an ordeal as Roo had ever known, so impatient was he to get this business done.

He reached the coffee house and walked straight past the door waiter, who blinked as Roo admitted himself to the main floor. McKeller, the headwaiter, was moving toward him, and as Roo moved toward the stairs to the second floor, he said, “Welcome, Mr. Avery.”

Roo couldn't help but grin. He was a member! He mounted the stairs two at a time and reached the top landing, where before he had always come carrying a large serving tray. He glanced around and saw Masterson's table, and his three new partners and Lender sitting there.

“Glad you could join us,” said Masterson dryly.

“I hope you gentlemen haven't been waiting too long,” said Roo as he sat. “I have a new baby in the house and things are a bit confused. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

All four men made understanding noises and brief comments about their own children, then Masterson said, “Here we have it, gentlemen: the document forming our new trading syndicate.” He handed copies around and Roo looked at the neatly executed script.

Roo read it twice, and he thought he understood it, but he wasn't sure. He pointed to a paragraph and said, “Mr. Lender, would you explain this to me, please?”

Lender looked at the indicated paragraph. “That simply pledges your goods and other chattels against any losses beyond those secured by whatever gold you bring to this accounting.”

Roo blinked. “How could we go into debt beyond what we agree to?”

Masterson said, “We usually don't, but there are instances when circumstances require a decision on the basis of the partnership, and sometimes we must establish lines of credit. If we need cash and don't have it, a moneylender or admitting new partners are the only alternatives. If we take loans, we often must pledge our personal businesses, even our homes and family heirlooms as security. It's normal.”

Roo frowned but said nothing. Then he asked, “But no one can do this without our agreement?”

Masterson smiled. “There are four of us. It would take a three-to-one majority to do so.”

Roo was uncertain, but he nodded. Lender said, “If each of you will sign the document before him and pass it to your right, then sign again, we'll have all these copies executed.”

A waiter appeared and Roo ordered coffee without looking up. He signed his name four times, and when he was done, he held his admission to the high-risk financial community of the city.

“Now,” said Crowley, “to the sums.”

Hume said, “I am comfortable with a position of fifteen thousand sovereigns.”

Crowley said, “Fifteen is fine with me.”

Masterson said, “Mr. Avery?”

“Twenty-one thousand. But I may have more by the end of the week.”

Masterson raised an eyebrow. “Very well. So far that means fifty-one thousand.” He drummed his fingers on the table a moment. “I have heard this morning of some cautious inquiries about grain shipments to the Free Cities, so I'm beginning to think our
young friend is on to something. I will occupy a position that will take the syndicate to one hundred thousand golden sovereigns.” He looked at his three partners. “If any of you would care to underwrite more, I will surrender up to a third of my position for a premium, depending on the price of wheat at the time.”

Lender said, “Gentlemen, your letters of credit?”

The three men reached into their coats and withdrew letters. Roo looked confused. “I'm having the gold brought here. It will arrive in a few minutes.”

The three men laughed. “Mr. Avery,” said Lender, “it is usual to keep one's gold in an account at one of the countinghouses in the city, and to draw upon the funds with letters of credit.” He lowered his voice. “You'll discover that here at Barret's we deal in sums that would require several wagons of gold to carry if we were to require the gold actually to be present.”

Roo looked unsure but said, “I have no such account.”

Lender said, “I will help you establish one at one of the more reputable moneylending firms in the city. I will note that you intend to participate to the amount of twenty-one thousand golden sovereigns.”

Roo nodded. “Though if more arrives later this week, I may wish to purchase some of Mr. Masterson's . . . position.”

Lender nodded and noted that.

“Then we are ready?” said Masterson.

Roo sat back. He had witnessed what was to come next on several occasions as he waited tables, not quite certain about the details of what was occurring, but never before had he had such a keen interest in what was happening.

Lender stood and walked to the rail overlooking the center floor and raised his voice. “Gentlemen, we have a request for an option on wheat. A new syndicate has formed, the Krondor Grain Traders Association. We close our books at the end of the week, best price position to a sum of one hundred thousand sovereigns, subject to revision.”

There was a slight buzz at the price, but then the noise in the room returned to normal. The five men sat, and after a half hour passed, a waiter arrived bearing a note. He handed it to Lender, who handed it to Masterson, who read it. He said, “We have an offer of fifty thousand bushels at two silvers per bushel delivered to the docks of Krondor in sixty days.”

Roo did the calculations in his head. That was ten thousand gold pieces. Hume asked, “What position?”

“Fifteen percent.”

Crowley laughed. “Let me guess. That was from Amested.”

Masterson laughed in return. “Yes.”

“He's fishing,” said Crowley. “He thinks we're onto something and wants to know what it is.”