Silver stepped out into the darkness.
His name was an alias, of course, but it contain a fragment of truth that he enjoyed. A large portion of his business was slowly changing the silver ingots Simon Lezar shipped him from the southern continent into cargos of supplies, shiploads of weapons and armor, and hired specialists.
There were far safer cities than Kimmelsport in which to conduct such trade. Now that the Empire had assumed control of the city, the city was less of the freewheeling, no-questions trading center than it had once been.
But Kimmelsport was a large city, nearly fifty thousand permanent residents in the last census. It was a city fairly set in its habits. An Empire, especially one with a vigorous and competent emperor, such as Emperor Marcus, could change those habits. However, it would take time.
Meanwhile, if a trader was careful and generous, he could sidestep certain specific questions and prevent some inspections. One trick was to alternate a boring but legitimate cargo (a large shipment of grains, for example) on one ship with a more questionable cargo (carefully gathered crates of swords and armor, with a few expert craftsmen as passengers) on the next ship.
His work here had progressed well over the past year, very well indeed, but it was getting much riskier as more eyes seemed to take note of him. Officialdom may well be blind, or have servitors willing to take coin and pretend to be blind, but other eyes in less reputable persons were watching. The Underworld was always watching.
The door opened, and two men walked into the private dining room that he had reserved at his favorite inn.
Then, they stopped. They stopped because Silver now was standing with a dagger in each hand.
Neither of the two men seemed overly surprised or concerned by the daggers. One man, elder, with close-cropped gray hair, merely stopped and held up his two palms.
The other man, younger, was quick. His own daggers materialized into his hands. He was muscular, with no extra weight on him. He was, of course, a specialist. These specialists often were men who once had been soldiers or who grew up on the streets. Most were independent contractors ready to ply their craft in any city that lacked the kinds of repressive guilds that existed in the great cities.
“We need to talk,” the older man said. “You can put those away. We’re not here to hurt you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Silver said. “Perhaps I won’t kill you then.” He did not put his daggers away.
The man sighed. “I’m telling the truth. Kester, put yours away first. Otherwise, we’ll stand here until someone gets hurt.” His attention returned to Silver. “My name is Helmar. I’m here to talk. Do you know who I am?”
After Kester sheathed his daggers, Silver did the same. He waited until Helmar and Kester were seated across the table from him before sitting in his chair. He filled one of the extra cups at the table from his bottle of wine and handed the cup to Helmar.
“I recognize your name,” Silver said. “I am not sure what business you would have with me.”
He did recognize it. The Underworld in this city did not have one leader, but this man was one of them and often an intermediary between different groups. Helmar knew a lot about a lot of subjects, and he knew a lot of people. Of course, his sphere of activity was not one in which any individual easily possessed absolute power.
“You have been working hard these past ten months,” Helmar told him, “moving large amounts of money into this city, and large cargos of merchandise out of it. And. But you are also keeping a low profile.” He nodded. “This behavior attracts certain attention. The River Gods have noticed you. They want to know what you are doing here.”
The River Gods were the two gang bosses who had a total lock on the harbor district’s illicit activity. Their mobs were a lethal bunch.
Silver knew that the specific count on the number of months was intended to show the extent of Helmar’s awareness of what occurred in the city. It was impressive. It was also somewhat gratifying for Silver to realize that they had missed his first two months in the city.
“You know the saying: ‘Labor conquers coin.’ I’m trying to make my fortune, and I don’t want to pay the Emperor’s tax collectors more than I have to.”
Helmar smiled. “Randolph of Khartras wrote that in one of his histories. I’m not sure the lords of Kimmelsport would agree, but I say he was onto something. They can hire as many guards as they like, but eventually I can find someone who will tell me what I need to know. And the Gods can find a way to get to anyone.”
Silver sipped his wine. “He was writing about peasant revolts, you know. I’m not sure he’d agree with your comparison.”
Helmar reached for his own cup and lifted it in a salute. “Perhaps not, but he is wise enough to know that you cannot control what people do with your work once you release it. You must admit that?”
Chuckling, Silver nodded. “Fair enough,” he said, “and now we know more about each other.”
“Yes,” murmured Helmar. “That, too.”
“I can tell you,” Silver asserted, “that I am no rival of the River Gods.”
“Not good enough,” Helmar said. “I’m afraid they will want to know more. I’ll need to know more, and I want a meeting with your boss.”
The quiet that filled the room for the next minute was watchful, calm . . . and dangerous.
Finally, after making a decision, Silver shrugged. “That can be arranged. He will be quietly visiting the city in the near future.”
Perhaps his eyes noticed a slight easing in Kester’s stance. The specialist, probably Helmar, too, understood that Silver had decided against violence. In this case.
“Good,” said Helmar. “It’s settled then.”
“It’s settled,” Silver repeated. “Join me for a meal?”
Helmar laughed. “I will. I like the food here.” He glanced at Kester. “My friend also needs to eat to maintain his strength. He is wasting away, I fear.”
Silver smiled. “I think that you and my employer are going to respect each other. This could work.”
Helmar shrugged. “If he intends no harm to the city, if he pays this well, if he keeps his word, then maybe we can work together. We’ll see.”
They ate a meal together, talking mostly about matters of trade and commerce in Kimmelsport.
#
Ten days later, the four of them were joined at the same table by Silver’s boss and two of his marines.
“So you are this man’s boss,” Helmar observed. He stopped because the new man started to laugh.
“Simon,” Silver said. It was a warning. Helmar was scowling.
“I am ‘Silver’ boss in a loose sense,” Simon explained. “He is the owner of his own ship, and he accepts contracts from me regularly. But on these unusual contracts, let me state the reality in this way: he uses his own judgment. We are working together toward common goals, so for now, ‘business partner’ is a more accurate term. Our relationship may change in the future.” He paused, and looked at Silver, inviting the man to comment.
“His reputation is that he is discrete and keeps his word,” Silver, undeterred from his task, observed about Helmar. “Anything less than the truth is not going to satisfy him.”
Simon nodded, and murmured to Helmar, “We’ll put your reputation to the test then. I am cooperating with my friend Aidan, the new Duke of Ravenwood. With the help of men like Silver and many other allies, he is building an army on the southern continent. He needed all of the weapons, armor, and supplies that we can send him. Now, we are done with that work, so we’ll be leaving this city. So, you see, we are no threat to you, the Gods, or the city.”
“Not immediately,” Helmar said, speaking slowly as he thought through the ramifications, or directly. “But maybe you are, all the same.” He turned his wine cup in his hands and ate a piece of cheese. “Here’s the problem, from my perspective: If your young duke brings an army to try to take back Ravenwood, then the Empire is going to need to reinforce its defenders. That means a heavier hand on Kimmelsport, which will hurt our businesses.”
The two men stared at each other for several minutes.
“You could see it as an opportunity for you,” Simon proposed.
“How so?”
“Aidan, Duke Aidan, has some new ideas about ruling,” Simon responded. “I predict that they will catch on in the north. They already are spreading like wildfire on a dry prairie in the south. If they catch on here, I predict there will be enormous amounts of coin to make.”
“Tell me: how do I and my men benefit from this new idea of ruling?”
Simon leaned forward. “I am not sure you will, if you work for the River Gods.”
Helmar shrugged. “My relationship with them is complex. They asked me to do this job for them as a favor.”
Simon studied Helmar’s face for a minute. “I have an answer for you, but it will take time to explain.”
Helmar waved an arm to cover the tale, which was well stocked with platters and pitchers of food and drink. “I have plenty of time, and you have a lot of your meal left.”
Simon nodded. “Your men take risk death daily. Why do they do that, do you suppose? Cut through the lies we tell each other, and tell me why you think they really do it.”
The stare that met Simon’s eyes was calm, but there was a quick flash of some strong emotions in the man’s face. Remembered pain. Buried anger. “They do what we do because they need to eat, or to feed their families, and they want to maintain some shreds of their self-respect.”
“Yes,” Simon said, nodding. “Working as a laborer or a serf in the fields would be safer, but a man can only eke out a living doing such work. In exchange, you need to allow the oligarchs to treat you like dogs.”
“Says a guilty one,” the crime lord snapped. “You try to talk about them as if you are not one of them in your city.”
“I am of them in terms of my wealth, yes,” Simon admitted, “but my identity due to birth is not so privileged.”
The crime lord laughed. “You believe so? Half of your blood comes from a duke.” He shook his head. “In this world, possessing noble blood is the characteristic that matters the most.”
“Not anymore,” Simon insisted. “Look at the reality on the ground. Look at it. I see at least three things that matter more now than a man’s birthright.”
“Three? You see three?” The crime lord swigged some wine. “Name them.”
Simon lifted his right hand and raised a finger to show the count. “Wealth. God. Power.”
The crime lord turned his goblet in both hands. “All of which the nobles lay claim to and possess.”
Simon nodded. “A fair point that they lay claim to them, but do not overestimate their current control. Aidan and I believe the past two hundred years have changed the equation. The nobility’s power is much diminished from its height. The Collapse broke many of the Great Houses. Some are still wealthy, incredibly wealthy, it is true, but so are many merchants, many bankers, and men such as yourself. The Collapse also weakened many people’s belief in God, and the Schism, the struggle between pontiff and patriarch, damages the power of mindless orthodoxy each day. Once there are two options, some will understand: ‘Why not three? Four? More?’ Belief is fragmented now. Finally, let us be honest: if the lord of this city moved against you, what would happen?”
There was a long pause in the conversation. “He has the City Watch, his men-at-arms, the mercenary companies, and the muster of his vassals and the militia. It would be foolhardy for even the River Gods to meet him in open battle.”
“Of course,” Simon said. “So what would happen?”
The pause was much longer this time. Simon understood the reasons for it. “The circumstances would matter,” the crime lord said. “The Gods can shut down the Harbor District. If the lord is willing to pay the price, he could take it back. But they also could burn down most of the city. Or, if the death of one man could change the situation, it could be arranged.”
“So you see,” Simon said, “the reality of power is different from the mythology of it. The power resides in the mass of the people, and right now, here and elsewhere, more of them are willing to follow people like you, or the merchants, or the young lawyers, or a radical bastard, than are willing to die for a baron, a duke, or a king. But you are an intelligent man; surely this thought has occurred to you: the right Duke could break both the Empire and the River Gods.”
The information trader sighed. “It is pretty to think so. But if you are right, if the nobles are so weak now, why do they still rule almost everywhere?”
“Habit. Fear. Lack of hope. All of those,” Simon said, “but one other above all: a failure of imagination. People remain passive because they cannot see another way to live. That is where we can help.”
“We?”
“My friends, my allies. We can give them hope,” Simon said. “We can give you a chance for greater power in the light of day.”
“I’m listening,” Helmar said.
“Let me tell you about our ideas for something we call the Assembly.”
After an hour, the platters of food on the table were empty, except for a few crumbs. The pitchers of wine and ale were dry.
Helmar swallowed the last mouthful of wine from his cup. Then, he laughed, heartily and at length. “It might work. For a while, at least. I’ll keep your secrets, and help where I can. The Church is going to explode with anger, though, when your duke comes north. Both Churches. Here they’ve spent three years trying to convince fighting men to take up the cross and travel to the southern continent. Now, thousands of them are going to reverse direction, and kill people in the northern lands, instead. I would love to be a fly on the wall to witness their reactions when they hear the news.”
“The northern Church more than the southern one, I predict, but Pontiff Amadei may not be happy, either,” Simon agreed. Then, he shrugged. “Duke Aidan will not be sorry to annoy all of them.”
“Then, he must have his chance.” Helmar looked at Kester and nodded.
Kester glided silently out of the room.
In response to the curious looks from Simon and the man he knew as Silver, Helmar said, “Two spies in this inn need to die before they can carry word of this meeting back to their masters. Kester is making the arrangements. He has a new man he wants to test, and this job is perfect.”
There was a casual ruthlessness in his words that belied his portly cherubic face.
Simon looked startled. “Two?”
Helmar nodded. “The Empire’s governors are not stupid. They know that the taverns are where the disaffected conceive trouble, so they watch all of them. They have a man in the common room. The other spy, believe it or not, works for the northern Church; we believe that the clergy are gathering information on vice in preparation for a purge, if they can secure permission from the governor. We need to reduce the probability that word about your visit gets back to their paymasters. This is a notorious establishment, everyone knows it. Someone dies here almost every week. They won’t know for certain that their men were targeted.”
Simon glanced at Silver, and murmured loud enough for both of the other men to hear. “Hard to believe that two men must die merely to hide a meeting. Do you have reservations about this action?”
“It is a necessary action,” Silver said.
“That’s right,” Helmar said. His work gave him a clear understanding of the full spectrum of human natures. Unlike some of his fellows, he did not belittle those who believed in honor. In his own way, he shared their belief. But definitions vary. To Helmar’s mind, situations created choices, and one’s sense of necessity helped to define honor. “Remember that a man who voluntarily agrees to work as a spy also must accept the risks. Neither the governor nor the clergy compelled these men by threatening their families. These men made their choices.” He shrugged. “Even if they were compelled, ask yourself: Are you willing to risk all of your plans and goals for two lives?”
Simon absorbed those words. The truth was that he was not willing to do so, but knowing that Silver also was not gave him a good reason to recruit the man fully into his service.
They ate in silence. Finishing the meal on the table was the pragmatic choice. Light conversation would have been inappropriate, disrespectful. Killing was never something that should be treated lightly. But none of these men were strangers to death’s presence. They were hungry. So they ate.
About twenty minutes later, shouts and the clatter of falling dishes and chairs penetrated the silence of their room. A brawl of some sort lasted for almost half an hour.
A few minutes later, Kester entered the room.
“It’s done,” Kester announced.
Helmar stated, “And our next step is simply beginning.”
