Orca (26 page)

“Got it. No more Empire.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so the Empire fixes the maximum loan rate.”

“Rates. There are several, having to do with, well, all sorts of complicated things. That’s Shortisle’s job.”

“Got it. Okay, go on. So, in effect, the maximum profit a banker can get is set by law.”

“Nope.”

“Uh ... okay, why not?”

“Because there’s another way to maximize profits.”

“Oh, right. Loan more money. But you can’t make loans if people don’t need the money.”

“Sure you can. You can create the need.”

“You mean the land swindle?”

“No. That’s trivial. Oh, I’m sure that’s why it’s being done, but it isn’t happening on anywhere near the scale that would pull the Empire into it.”

“All right. Go on, then. How?”

“Undercut the Jhereg.”

He shrugged. “They always do that. But the Jhereg moneylenders stay in business, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because we aren’t as fussy about making sure the customer can pay us back, because we have our own ways of making sure we get paid back.”

It was interesting that Vlad still thought of the Organization as “we,” but I didn’t choose to comment on that. I said, “Exactly. And so ... ?”

He frowned. “You mean they start making it easier to get loans?”

“Precisely.”

“But then, what if the loans aren’t paid back?”

“Vlad, I’m not talking about small stuff, like someone wanting to buy a house. I’m talking about big finance, like someone wanting to start a major shipping firm.”

He smiled. “Just to pick an example by random? Well, all right. So then what happens?” He answered his own question. “Then the banks go under. That’s stupid business.”

“Maybe. But what if you don’t have any choice?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you had a pile of cash—”

He smiled. I’d forgotten how much money he had.

“Let me rephrase. If you had a pile of cash that you wanted to put into a bank—”

“Ah!”

“Which bank would you choose?”

“I wouldn’t. I’d give it to an Organization moneylender.”

“Work with me, Vlad.”

“All right. I don’t know. I guess the one that had the best rates.”

“What if they were all the same?”

“Then the one that seemed the most reliable.”

“Right. What makes a bank reliable? Or, more precisely, what would make you think a bank was reliable?”

“I don’t know. How long it’s been around, I suppose, and its reputation, how much money it has.”

“How do you know how much money it has?”

“The Empire publishes lists of that sort of thing, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Another of Shortisle’s jobs.”

“You mean he’s been lying?”

“Not exactly. Don’t get ahead of me. What determines how much money the bank has, or, rather, how much money the Empire reports the bank as having? I mean, do you think they go in and count it?”

“Well, sort of. Don’t they do audits?”

“Yes. And do you know how the audits work?”

“Not exactly.”

“They look at how much gold they claim to have on hand and compare it with what they find in the vaults, and then—here’s the fun part—they look at their paperwork and add the amount they have, as we’d put it, on the street.

And the more money they have on the street, the richer they are. Or, rather, the richer they look.”

He frowned. “So, you mean, if they start making risky loans, it looks like they’re doing really well, when in fact they may be—”

“Tottering on the edge of ruin. Yes.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Savn was snoring in a corner, Buddy curled up on one side of him, Rocza on the other, with Loiosh next to her. There were occasional sounds from the predators outside, but nothing else. I gave Vlad some time to think over what I’d told him. Eventually he said, “The Empire—”

“Yes, Vlad. Exactly. The Empire.”

“Aren’t they supposed to check on things like that?”

“They do their best, sure. But how many banks are there making how many loans? Do you really thing Shortisle has the means to inspect every loan from every bank to make sure it isn’t too risky? And, even if it is, it has to be pretty extreme before the Empire has the right to step in.”

“But—”

“Yes, but. But if several banks fail all at once, then what happens to trade?”

“It falls apart. And they can’t allow that.”

“So what do they do?”

“You tell me,” said Vlad.

“All right. First of all, they curse themselves soundly for having allowed things to get into that sort of mess in the first place.”

“Good move. Then what?”

“Then they try to cover for the banks as much as they can.”

“Ah ha.”

“Right. If word get out that Fyres was murdered, then they’ll have to find out why, and then—”

“Right,” said Vlad. “Then word will get out that lots of big banks, starting with the Verra-be-damned bank of the Verra-be-damned Empire, are very rich on paper and, in fact, are on the edge of taking that big tumble into oblivion. And if that happens—”

“Panic, bank runs, and—”

“Trade goes overboard in a big way.”

I nodded. “That’s what I didn’t see right away. This isn’t a few slimebags in the Empire lining their pockets, this is the Empire doing what it’s supposed to do—protecting trade.”

He shook his head. “And all of this starting off just because somebody knocked a big-time scam artist in the head.”

“A big-time, extremely wealthy scam artist.”

“Yes. Only one thing.”

“Yes, Vlad?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Well, this sort of mess isn’t good for anyone, right?”

“Right.”

“So if all this was set off by Fyres’s death, why was he killed?”

I stared off into space for a moment, then I said, “You know, Vlad, that is a very, very good question.”

“Yeah, I thought so. So what’s the answer?”

“I don’t know.”

“And here’s another question: with Stony dead, is the Jhereg still onto me? I mean, are they still breathing down my neck, or do I have a little time to find the answer to the first question?”

I nodded. “That one I think I can find the answer to.”

“I’d appreciate it. What about the other one?”

“We’ll see,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait here,” he said.

Chapter Fourteen

I left the cottage and was instantly in Northport; a quicker teleport than was my custom, but I realized after I performed it that there was a feeling of urgency within me that was still growing. So I deliberately teleported to a place more than a mile away and made myself walk the rest of the distance so I could calm down. I strolled casually—at least, I did my best to stroll casually—through the narrow, winding streets, where the second-floor balconies almost touched each other and the roofs all but hid the sky, until I arrived at a place I knew. This time Dor was in.

He looked up when I came in, and he seemed afraid. That made me sad. The last thing I want is to inspire fear. I said, “What’s wrong, Dor?”

His brow furrowed, and he said, “You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t, unless it’s about Stony’s death. But I had nothing to do with that.”

“That Easterner did.”

“Perhaps.”

“No perhaps about it. We were able to revivify Raafla, and he told us.”

“I imagine Stony hasn’t been saying much.”

He glared at me. “That isn’t funny. I liked him.”

Liked.

Past tense.

“What do you mean?” I said. “Hasn’t he been revivified?”

“You know damned well—”

“Dor, I know very little ‘damned well’; even less than I’d thought. What are you telling me?”

“He wasn’t revivifiable.”

“He wasn’t? What happened?”

He stared. “You really don’t know?”

“Please tell me, Dor. What happened?”

“The kind of spells assassins always use, that’s what.”

If Vlad had ever used those sorts of spells, I sure didn’t know about it. And he hadn’t said anything ....

“You’d better tell me all about it,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious, and because I need to know.”

“If you’re looking for your friend,” he said bitterly, “he’ll be long gone by now.”

“Tell me, please,” I said.

He did so.

His story shook me up enough that I had trouble believing it, so after leaving him there, I used some of my other contacts in Northport to verify it. The details aren’t important, but the story stayed the same. I was convinced, and also confused, but I’d at least answered Vlad’s second question, about whether the Jhereg thought he was still in town. About Vlad’s first question, why was Fyres killed, I still had no clue, but I returned at once to tell Vlad what I’d learned. When I arrived at the blue cottage, and had said hello to Buddy, I found Vlad sitting near the hearth having a one-sided conversation with Savn. Vlad looked at me, blinked, and stood up. We moved over to the table in the kitchen and I sat down. Vlad brought me some klava. “The honey is almost gone,” he said. “And we haven’t been stung too badly.”

“Yet,” I said.

He raised his eyebrows.

I said, “Well, Vlad, it goes like this.”

He poured himself a cup, sweetened it, and said, “Not here.”

“All right,” I said.

Vlad and I stepped outside. Loiosh rode on his shoulder and seemed better, but I hadn’t seen him flying yet. Vlad leaned against a tree and said, “Uh-huh?”

“The first item is that, while everyone knows you shined Stony, no one has any idea of the circumstances. They figure he somehow found you and wanted to be there personally for the kill, and you were too quick, or too tough, or too nasty for him. Which means, I suppose, that next time they’ll be even more careful.”

“Next time,” said Vlad, smiling wryly. “I can hardly wait.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure they told you the truth? I mean, we’re known to be friends, and—”

“Vlad, I didn’t come right out and ask, you know. Trust me.”

“All right.”

“There’s more. Everyone is pretty sure you’ve left town.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s what any of them would do.”

“So, for the moment, I’m safe.”

“Yes. Until you do something stupid.”

“Right. So I’m safe for another five minutes, anyway. All right. Anything else?”

“Yes,” I said. “One more thing: there’s also some speculation that you had it in for Stony personally, and no one knows why.”

He shrugged. “They’re wrong. So what?” Then he looked at me again and said, “All right, let’s have it. Why do they think so?”

“Because otherwise why, in the middle of a fight, would you have taken the time to put the spells on him that make him unrevivifiable?”

“Huh? Oh.”

“Right.”

“Well, now, isn’t that interesting.”

“I thought so.”

“I take it you didn’t disabuse them of the notion?”

“How could I?”

“Good point. Not that it matters; they don’t like me, anyway. What about his associates?”

“All four were extremely dead, as were three of Von-nith’s personal guards who, as they suppose, got in your way. And so was her servant.”

“Shards! All unrevivifiable?”

“Not all, but there’s another interesting point.”

“Go on.”

“Stony was unrevivifiable, and so were all three of the Orca guardsmen, but the Jhereg weren’t, and there were another three of Vonnith’s private guards who weren’t even touched.”

“Did they see what happened?”

“No. It was all inside. Some of the guards were summoned in, and then ...” I let the sentence trail off with a shrug.

“My word,” said Vlad. “What a bloodbath! Jhereg don’t kill like that, Kiera, at least not since prehistory. Only Dragons kill like that, and Dzur, I suppose.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Dragons and Dzur. And also Orca, if there’s a profit in it.”

“Good point,” he said. “Orca. Yes.”

“What are you thinking now?” I said.

“Thinking? I’m not thinking; I’m being angry. I’ll get over it.”

“Vlad—”

“I’ve been hanging around Orca quite a bit lately. Usually, when I get to know people I begin to be more sympathetic with them. You’d have thought that, now that I’ve gotten a chance to know these Orca, I’d have a little more understanding of them. But I don’t. I hate them, Kiera. I hated them when I was a kid, and I hate them now, and I think I always will hate them.”

I started to defend them, then shrugged and said, “So you don’t invite Shortisle to dinner. We still need to—what is it?”

“Shortisle to dinner,” said Vlad. “That’s what’s odd about it—to dinner.”

“Huh?”

“Those notes you stole from Fyres. Here, just a minute.”

He walked into the cottage and emerged with Buddy and the sheaf of notes I’d stolen from Fyres’s place. He looked through them for a while, then held one up triumphantly. “It says,

‘Shortisle to dinner.’”

“What’s your point?”

He waved the papers in front of my face. “My point, Kiera, is that it was included in his financial notes, not his personal notes.”

“I’m sure it was a business meeting, Vlad. What does that tell you?”

“Everything,” he said.

“Huh?”

Vlad shook his head and was quiet for several minutes, and, once more, I could almost watch him working things out. It was like seeing someone assemble a puzzle, but not being able to see the puzzle itself; it was a trifle annoying. Eventually he said, “One question.”

“Yes?”

“When Stony told you he wasn’t in debt to Fyres, did you believe him?”

“Well, at the time I did, but—”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Then he frowned, and Rocza flew out of the house, landing on his other shoulder. “I’ll see you in a bit, Kiera,” he said abruptly, and started walking away from the cottage.

“Wait a minute—”

“No time,” he said.

“What about your sword?”

“It’ll just get in the way.”

“Where are you going?”

“To town.”

“But—”

“Keep an eye on Savn,” he added over his shoulder as he headed down the road toward Northport.

I watched him go, hoping he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. I had the sudden realization that we hadn’t talked about my decision to let myself be a target in hopes of flushing out whoever was behind it—back when we’d thought there was someone behind it. This mattered because, although he would come up with some reason for justifying it, especially to himself, Vlad might well feel it necessary to go and do something equally dangerous, and if I let him get himself killed, I’d never be able to explain it to Cawti.