Rage of a Demon King. Raymond E. Feist
regular clients.’
‘We have,’ said Jason, ‘except for the Keshian merchants.’ He shook his head, his young features a mask of solemnity. ‘Once it became known you’d taken over on Helen Jacoby’s behalf, every Keshian trading concern began canceling contracts as fast as possible.’
Roo frowned. Tapping his chin with his finger, he asked, ‘Who’s getting those contracts?’
Luis said, ‘Esterbrook.’ Roo turned and stared at his friend, who continued. ‘At least, either companies he holds a minor interest in, or ones owned by men he has major influence over. You know he was doing a lot of business with the Jacobys before you finished with them.’
Roo glanced at Jason. ‘What did you find when you went over the Jacoby accounts?’
Jason had thoroughly investigated all those accounts while Roo had sailed across the sea to rescue Erik. Roo had killed Randolph and Timothy Jacoby when they had tried to ruin him, and rather than put Randolph Jacoby’s wife, Helen, and their children out on the streets, he had agreed to run Jacoby and Sons on her behalf.
Jason said, ‘Whatever business Jacoby and Esterbrook had, there was little record keeping involved. There were some minor contracts, but nothing out of the ordinary, just a few odd personal notes I can’t make sense of. But one thing doesn’t fit.’
‘What?’ asked Roo.
‘The Jacobys were too rich. There was gold accounted to them in several countinghouses that … well, I don’t know where it came from. I have accounts going back ten years’ – he waved at a pile of ledgers on the floor nearby – ‘and there’s just no source for it.’
Roo nodded. ‘Smuggling.’ He remembered his first confrontation with Tim Jacoby, over some smuggled silk Roo had managed to get his hands on. ‘How much gold?’
Jason said, ‘More than thirty thousand sovereigns, and I haven’t found every account yet.’
Roo considered silently for a minute. ‘Don’t say anything about this to anyone. If you have any reason to speak to Helen Jacoby, just tell her things are going better than we had thought. Keep it vague, just enough solid information to reassure her that she and her children are protected for life, no matter what happens to me. And ask her if she needs anything.’
‘Aren’t you going to see her?’ asked Luis.
‘Soon.’ He glanced around. ‘We need to build more resources, and fast, so start keeping your ears open for businesses we can buy into or take over outright. But keep it quiet; any mention of the name Avery and Son or the Bitter Sea Company and prices will rise faster than a spring flood.’ The others acknowledged his instructions, and Roo said, ‘I’m going next to Barret’s, to see my partners, and if I’m needed, that’s where you’ll find me for the balance of the day.’
Roo left his associates and mounted his fresh horse. As he considered what he had been told, he reached Barret’s Coffee House before he knew it.
Roo dismounted, tossing the reins to one of the waiters. He pulled a silver coin from his vest and handed it to the boy. ‘Stable him behind my house, Richard.’
The youngster led the mount away, smiling. Roo made it a point to remember the names of all the waitstaff at Barret’s and to tip lavishly. He had been employed there only three years before and knew how difficult the work could be. Besides, if he needed something from a waiter, a message carried across town or a special dish prepared for a business associate, he got quick service in exchange for his largesse.
Roo moved past the first rail as another waiter quickly opened the gate for him, then made his way to the stairs up to the balcony overlooking the central part of the floor. His partners, Jerome Masterson and Stanley Hume, were waiting for him. He took his seat and said, ‘Gentlemen?’
Jerome said, ‘Rupert. A pleasant morning to you.’ Hume echoed the greeting, and they began to conduct the morning business of the Bitter Sea Company, the largest trading concern in the Kingdom of the Isles.
Erik fumed.
He had spent the day working on a plan to employ the Hadati hillmen he had taken from the Baron of Tyr-Sog, only to be told they had left the Prince’s castle, and no one seemed sure where they had gone or at whose orders. He had finally ended up outside the office of the Knight-Marshal of Krondor, who was ensconced within his private chamber in a meeting with Captain Calis.
Finally a clerk indicated Erik could enter, and both William and Calis greeted him. ‘Sergeant Major,’ said William, indicating an empty chair. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘It’s about the Hadati, m’lord,’ said Erik, not taking the seat.
‘What about them?’ asked Calis.
‘They’re gone.’
‘I know,’ said Calis with a faint smile.
Erik said, ‘What I mean is, I had plans –’
Knight-Marshal William held up his hand. ‘Sergeant Major, whatever plans you had are certainly similar to our own. However, your particular talents aren’t needed in that area.’
Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘In what area?’
‘Teaching hillmen how to fight in the hills,’ said Calis.
He motioned for Erik to sit, and Erik did as he was instructed.
William pointed to a map on the wall across the room. ‘We’ve got a thousand miles of hills and mountains running from just north of the Great Star Lake up to Yabon, Sergeant. We’re going to need men who can live up there without supplies from Krondor.’
Erik said, ‘I know, m’lord –’
William interrupted him again. ‘Those men already meet our needs.’
Erik was silent a moment, then said, ‘Very well, m’lord. But, for my curiosity’s sake, where are they?’
‘On their way to a camp north of Tannerus. To meet with Captain Subai.’
‘Captain Subai?’ asked Erik. The man named was head of the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders, an elite scouting unit that traced its lineage back to the Kingdom’s first foray into the West. They had long since changed their mission of being trailbreakers and explorers; they now served as long-range military scouts and intelligence officers. ‘You’re turning them over to the Pathfinders?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Calis. He sounded tired, and Erik studied his leader’s features. There were dark smudges under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept much in recent days, and his face was a bit more pinched than usual. Those signs might go unnoticed, by someone who hadn’t spent every waking moment for months in Calis’s company, but to Erik they communicated much: Calis was worried and was working late into the night. Erik suppressed a rueful smile. He had started to think like the very nursemaid Calis had warned him not to become, and besides, he was just as guilty of overwork as his leader.
Calis spoke: ‘We need couriers and exploring officers.’
This was a term new to Erik. ‘Exploring officers?’ he asked.
‘It’s a madman’s job,’ offered Calis. ‘You pack your horse with a few rations and a canteen of water, then you ride like hell through the enemy’s pickets, move behind their lines, stay alive, meet with agents and spies, occasionally assassinate someone or burn down a stronghold, and otherwise wreak havoc wherever you can.’
‘You forgot the important part,’ offered William. ‘Staying alive. Getting back with what you know is more important than all the rest.’
‘Information,’ said Calis. ‘Without it, we’re blind.’