The Folding Knife Part 21

She shook her head. "He's well aware of the threat she continues to pose," she said. "But he loves his sister very much, which rules out any sort of pre-emptive strike on his part. He will wait for her to attack again, and react as best he can when the time comes."

"Ah." It would be some time, Ba.s.sano decided, before he got used to her way of talking. "That's all right, then."

"How are you getting on at the Mint?" she asked, and he was able to turn on the charm and the wit, which saved him the trouble of thinking. She listened to him for a while, and then they were back at the Severus house. Job done.

"I'd better get back to work," Ba.s.sano said. "You know, every time I say that it sounds strange. Just the thought of me and work together in the same sentence."

"I have work to do as well," she said (and of course, she was still his social secretary, or director of protocol, or whatever the t.i.tle was). "Are you dining with us tonight?"

Ba.s.sano nodded. "These days, I'm too tired in the evenings for riotous living."

"The twins will be here."

"Splendid," Ba.s.sano said, maybe with a little too much enthusiasm. "Haven't seen them for ages."

It wasn't a particularly enjoyable meal. Clearly the twins had done something wrong and were in disgrace, but whatever it was, n.o.body was inclined to mention it. They were polite, mostly silent but very quick to answer when asked a direct question. Otherwise, they ventured no opinions. Apart from a polite, rather formal greeting, neither of them spoke to Ba.s.sano all evening.

Melsuntha went to bed early. Ba.s.so had work to do, and stayed up late.

Nine.

On the third day after the Kalends of Histamenon of the plague year, AUC 997, six caravels sailed into the bay. n.o.body remembered seeing them, which direction they came from, whether they came singly and held station off the Point until they'd all arrived, or whether they came in convoy. Citizens of the Republic tended not to see caravels in the bay, in the same way they didn't see pigeons roosting on the guttering.

One of the few definite facts about their arrival is that they tied up on Pier 7 at twelve minutes to noon. This was vouched for by the captain of an Auxentine brigantine, who happened to notice the time on the harbour arch clock as he pulled out, vacating a post on Pier 7 where one of the caravels subsequently moored. That they put in relatively late in the day supports the theory that they came separately, not in convoy, and rendezvoused at the Point; the delay, it is argued, suggests that one or more of the caravels was held up and arrived late.

In accordance with standard procedure, two customs officers were waiting on Pier 7 to receive them, inspect their bills of lading, calculate any dues, make the usual cursory search for contraband or items bearing special duty. The furthest caravel on the right put out a gangplank, in the usual way, but before the customs men could board, a number of men from the s.h.i.+p (estimates vary between three and nine) came on sh.o.r.e, produced hand-axes from inside their coats, and killed the customs men without hesitation or saying a word. Remarkably, there were only two eye-witnesses to the actual killing; one of them was sure he'd misinterpreted what he'd seen, and went about his business. The other took a moment to recover from the shock, then ran to the harbour master's office.

Exactly how many men disembarked from the caravels will probably never be known. The general a.s.sumption was that they were loaded to capacity and had come straight from their home port, in which case, each s.h.i.+p could theoretically carry something in the order of ninety men, putting the total number at five hundred and forty. The weight of the evidence-the speed with which they disembarked, the sheer inconvenience of landing so many men on the cramped s.p.a.ce of Pier 7-suggests that there were rather fewer, and best estimates put the total at somewhere between three and four hundred. Accounts also differ wildly concerning how the men were armed. Some witnesses claimed to have seen mail s.h.i.+rts, helmets, s.h.i.+elds and spears. Most, however, make no mention of armour, and limit their armament to bows, cutla.s.ses, hangers, axes and knives. A few did carry small s.h.i.+elds, since two were recovered later.

One thing of which there is no doubt is that they knew precisely where they wanted to go. From the pier, they marched directly towards the harbour master's office, where nine members of the harbour guard were on duty. In their citations, it is stated that they held their ground and fought until they were wiped out. At least one witness says they broke and ran, but were shot down before they'd covered five yards. The harbour master and his staff were inside at the time, and didn't come out until the armed men were long gone.

Inevitably, a crowd had started to gather. All the witnesses to this stage of the attack talked of a sense of complete bewilderment, a certainty that what they appeared to be watching couldn't possibly be happening; instead of running away, therefore, between fifty and eighty people actually approached the harbour master's office, in an attempt to figure out what was going on. The raiding party immediately started shooting arrows into the crowd at random, killing six men and two women and injuring an unascertained number. At this point, most of the crowd fled; others would appear to have been so stunned that they froze and didn't move. The raiders charged, but it would seem they were more concerned with punching a hole through the crowd and getting past than inflicting casualties; two men were killed, and there were a number of injuries, mostly sword-cuts and broken bones.

The raiders had acted with remarkable speed and purpose. One consequence of this was that they entered the City before any of the fugitives, all of whom had run back towards the seafront because of the angle of the raiders' charge. It is more or less certain that they came in through the Portgate, killing the two gatekeepers, and marched straight up Portway. Needless to say a great many people saw them, and the sight of a large body of men marching in column up a main thoroughfare was certainly unfamiliar; even so, it simply didn't occur to anybody that they could be a hostile force. People stared and got out of the way, but n.o.body thought to alert the authorities; they a.s.sumed that whatever was happening was authorised, and someone official knew all about it.

The first resistance the raiders encountered, therefore, was at the gate of City Yard itself. The raiders would appear to have been entirely successful in concealing their weapons in Portway, but a sharp-eyed guard on the Yard gate saw an axe in a man's hand as they turned right into the outer courtyard. He yelled to his colleagues on the gate towers to shut the gates immediately. There was a significant delay-the gatemen wanted to know why-but the gates were closed and the bars dropped just in time, and runners were sent through the side doors to tell General Aelius' office that something was going on at City Yard.

Several commentators have speculated that had the message Aelius received been rather more specific, events might have taken a different turn. That, however, is unlikely. In the event, Aelius interpreted 'something going on at City Yard' as either a riot or an outbreak of fighting between Blues and Greens supporters (it happened to be a race day); accordingly, he sent twenty-five men in police armour, armed with batons and minimal side arms. When they reached the Yard, they found that the raiders had already burst through the gate, using benches from the Yard chapel as improvised battering rams.

Captain Trachea, commanding the twenty-five guards, came in for the brunt of the criticism at the inquiry. This is understandable, if only because it's usually simpler and more conciliatory to established interests to blame a dead man with no family. With hindsight, it's hard to imagine what else Trachea could possibly have done. He commandeered every cart, barrel and bench he could find, and every able-bodied man he could catch, and built a barrier that proved, in the event, to be quite effective. As Ba.s.so said privately after the inquiry had reported, n.o.body in his right mind could have expected Trachea to lead his twenty-five men with sticks against six hundred with real weapons, and arrest them. As for the allegations of collusion, they rest entirely on the fact that Trachea was a Mavortine. Those who imply that, if there was no actual collusion, Trachea held back because he didn't want to attack his fellow countrymen ignore the fact that at that stage, n.o.body had any reason to know or even suspect that the attackers were Mavortines.

There is no hard evidence; but educated guesses and reconstructions suggest that the time elapsed between the first raider setting foot on sh.o.r.e and the forced entry into City Yard was no more than twenty minutes. Trachea's men, marching at the double, would have taken six minutes to reach the Yard, at least five more to a.s.sess the true significance of the situation, decide on their course of action and take the decision to a.s.semble the barricade. Actual construction of the barricade was, by all accounts, impressively swift; no more than ten minutes. It follows, therefore, that by the time the barricade was in place, the raiders had already been inside the yard for twenty minutes. The only aspect of Trachea's conduct for which it remains difficult to account is his delay in sending a message to Aelius, to tell him what was happening and call for reinforcements; it would appear that the runner was sent only after the barricade was complete. We can only a.s.sume that it slipped Trachea's mind in the heat of the moment, or that there was some misunderstanding as to who was supposed to go.

The City Yard was at that time considerably less well defended than it is now. The encircling wall was only twelve feet high, and the three major buildings-the Mint, Treasury Storage and the a.r.s.enal-were neither fortified nor guarded. Once past the Yard Gate, the raiders would simply have marched up to Treasury Storage, kicked down the door (a.s.suming it wasn't already open, as was often the case), surged inside and started helping themselves to coined money from the stores.

"I was trying to do long division," Ba.s.sano said, "which has never been a strong point of mine, and there was this dreadful row going on down in the Yard. I couldn't concentrate, so I went to the window to shout at whoever was causing it."

He closed his eyes. Ba.s.so noticed that he hadn't touched the large brandy he'd poured for him.

"I couldn't make it out," Ba.s.sano went on. "I could see four men lying on the ground, like they were asleep; like drunks pa.s.sed out after a party. I think I knew instinctively that they were dead, but that made no sense at all, because surely people would be trying to help if there'd been an accident-I wondered if they'd been up on scaffolding working on the gutters-but there was n.o.body at all in the yard, which really was odd. Also, if the yard was empty, where had all the noise come from?"

He stopped talking, and Ba.s.so could see he was staring at the wall, at one particular place on the blank wall, where there was nothing worth looking at. "Are you all right?" he asked, but Ba.s.sano didn't seem to have heard him. "Maybe you should get some rest," he said awkwardly, not knowing how you were supposed to treat this condition: herb tea, inhalation of sage and saffron steeped in boiling water, mustard poultice on the forehead to draw out the poisonous memory. His mother would have known; or at least, she'd have ordered some remedy, which wouldn't have worked.

"I'm fine, really," Ba.s.sano said. "Where was I?"

"You'd just looked out of the window."

"Oh, right." Ba.s.sano grinned weakly. "I do apologise, I sort of lost the thread there for a moment. Anyway, you know me, no common sense whatsoever. I thought that since I was nominally in charge of the place, I'd better go down and take a look. So I went down the back stair-you know, that awful spiral job where if you meet someone coming the other way, you've got to walk backwards up to the next landing? We really should tear it out and put in something decent, before there's an accident."

"Noted," Ba.s.so said.

"Thanks. Well," Ba.s.sano added, with a laugh that had little to do with humour, "I don't suppose it's going to be too far up your list of priorities, in the circ.u.mstances. But you might just bear it in mind." He picked up the brandy, then put it down. "So I went down the stairs, out into the yard, and there still wasn't anybody about; I'd been expecting people to come rus.h.i.+ng out, like I'd just done. But I stood there, all on my own in the yard, and-I don't know, it didn't seem real, it was like some big event was going on, a procession or a ceremony or something, and everybody else had been told about it except me. Stupid way to think, of course, but my mind just went blank. I couldn't seem to get any further than 'all this is very strange'. And I thought, I'd better find someone and ask what's going on. So I turned back to go into the main shop, but the door was shut. I tried the handle, it turned but the door wouldn't open. Crazy, I thought. I looked round; the a.r.s.enal door was shut too, but the door of Treasury Storage was wide open. So I sort of picked up my feet and wandered across."

Ba.s.so winced, which made Ba.s.sano laugh. "Like I said," he went on, "no more sense than next door's cat. I walked in through the door, and there they were, hundreds of them. Thank G.o.d they were busy and didn't see me. I just stood there; I couldn't believe it. They were prising open the barrels-the newly minted stuff, they weren't bothered about the foreign money, which is significant when you think about it. They must've known exactly where to find what they wanted. Anyhow, they were popping the lids off the barrels with the horns of their axes, then baling coins out into sacks with-I believe it was old tin dishes; I guess they must've brought them with them, because I don't remember anything like that lying around in Storage. One man would be holding the sack, another would be leaning over the barrel, scooping. I remember, one of the scoopers lifted his head and he saw me. Eyeball to eyeball, as they say. He looked at me for-well, I don't know how long, seemed to last for ever, couldn't have been more than a pulse beat or two; then he went back to what he was doing, and I realised, I didn't matter, I wasn't a threat, not worth losing time over. Of course, I couldn't see very far into the building, so I had no way of knowing how many of them there were in there. Could've been twenty or a thousand of them for all I knew. But I thought, if I'm not a threat, they can't be worried about being found out and someone calling the guards; and it was only then I started putting things together, the dead men in the yard, and it started dawning on me what was happening."

"Don't blame yourself for that," Ba.s.so said. "I don't suppose-"

"Yes, but I do," Ba.s.sano said. "I was supposed to be in charge, and a whole f.u.c.king army just walks in and empties the Treasury, and-"

"Listen." Ba.s.so raised his voice a little, and Ba.s.sano looked at him. "We're fairly sure there must've been at least five hundred of them. I spoke to Aelius just now. Do you know how many soldiers he's got stationed in the City right now? Not just on call at the guards but all over town, all the guards and watch patrols and everything? Just under two hundred. So even if they'd all rushed down there the moment they stepped off the boats, we'd have been outnumbered more than two to one. There wasn't anything anybody could've done. That's all there is to it."

"I didn't know that," Ba.s.sano said quietly. "And it doesn't really make any difference, does it? I should've been able to do something more constructive than stand there gawping like an idiot, then run like h.e.l.l back to my office and wedge the door shut with a chair. That's just plain cowardice."

"Once it'd finally sunk in," Aelius said (his face was grey and his skin looked tight over his cheekbones; showing his age, Ba.s.so thought), "I realised how completely screwed we were. I still didn't know how many there were. Trachea's men said hundreds, but what's that supposed to mean? More to the point, they'd been in there for some time, they'd cheerfully killed anybody who got in their way and even I'd finally managed to guess what they were after. And I knew there was nothing I could do to stop them."

Ba.s.so nodded. "I accept that," he said.

"Thank you," Aelius replied. "Thinking about it, I don't suppose Trachea could've known just how few men we had in the City. It's not common knowledge-not a secret either, it's just one of those things you don't think about. We aren't at war, we don't have a law-and-order problem, nothing bad's ever going to happen to us, so why would we clutter up the City with a lot of armed men we don't need? Well." He shook his head. "I guess they could count on their fingers as well as the next man."

Ba.s.so said: "What happened to Trachea and his men?"

"My fault," Aelius said briskly. "I should've been quicker off the mark. Given the information available to him, Trachea did the right thing: bottle them up in the Yard so they can't get out, call for reinforcements. Of course, there weren't any reinforcements worth a d.a.m.n, and all he'd done was make things worse. Soon as they'd finished looting Treasury Storage they came back out again, found that some fool had blocked their way with a load of carts, and forced their way through. Trachea, being a brave soldier, tried to stop them, and they went through him and his men like they weren't there."

"What did you do?"

"Me?" Aelius laughed. "As soon as I saw they were coming through, I told my fifty or so men to get the h.e.l.l out of there, and I personally ran as fast as I've ever run in my life. By the time I stopped, I was in Cornmarket, and people were staring at me, wondering why this exhausted man in uniform had just collapsed on the steps of the Exchange."

Ba.s.so didn't say anything for a while. Then he said: "I a.s.sume you'd realised that they would return to their s.h.i.+ps by the shortest route possible, and that if left alone they'd do no further harm; in which case-"

"No such thing," Aelius interrupted; he sounded angry. "It was sheer terror. Not the first time, either. The second battle I was in, I ran away. One moment we were all in line, spears levelled, sergeant calling out orders by the numbers; next thing I knew I was in some barn somewhere, hiding under a load of straw. I was desperately ashamed of myself for a while, until I talked to other soldiers about it, and guess what: they'd all done something like it, at one time or another. It's what happens. Armies don't stand their ground and butcher each other down to the last man. One side or other always runs away, and when you run, you run." He shook his head. "I can't expect you to understand," he said. "No civilian could. As far as you're concerned, it was unforgivable cowardice in the face of the enemy. Which it was," Aelius added. "And I'll say as much to the court martial."

Ba.s.so scowled at him. "Don't be stupid," he said. "There won't be any court martial. I'm directly answerable for your actions to the House."

"Ah." Aelius nodded slowly. "I see."

"Good. As far as everybody but you and me are concerned, you stood your ground, only withdrawing when you realised that further resistance would inevitably result in pointless civilian casualties. Sort it out with your people; I don't want any inconsistencies."

Aelius nodded. "Understood," he said. "Does that mean I still have a job?"

"Of course you do," Ba.s.so snapped. "You think that with all this on my plate, I've got the time or the energy to find someone else? Last thing I need is to have to work with a stranger at a time like this."

"Well?" Ba.s.so asked.

Cinio took a long time to answer. "Nothing," he said. "Well, about sixteen thousand nomismata, spilled on the floor while they were filling the sacks. Plus the foreign coin for melting, which they didn't touch, and what was actually in the Mint shop, say another twenty thousand. That's it."

Ba.s.so said: "The foreign money."

"It's your b.l.o.o.d.y nephew's fault," Cinio said. "Since he's been in charge, production's up by nearly a third. A quarter of a million, if that; all the rest had already been melted down and restruck."

When he spoke again, Ba.s.so's voice was level and calm. "So," he said, "as far as we know, the cash reserve of the Republic stands at around two hundred and eighty thousand, as against..." He glanced at the paper on his desk. "Twenty million, this time yesterday. All the rest of it's gone, we don't know where, and we have no idea if we can get any of it back. That's true, isn't it?" Suddenly he laughed, and a huge smile spread on his face like blood from a wound. "We're broke," he said. "The Republic has no money."

Cinio stared at him, then grinned. "Yes," he said, "that's right. No money."

Ba.s.so leaned back until his chair creaked, and put his hands behind his head. "Let's just think about that," he said. "We can't pay anybody for anything. We can't pay the guards, or the street sweepers, or the highways division, or the men who put oil in the street lamps in Portgate, we can't pay the builders or the masons, we can't service thirty million nomismata's worth of debt, all the state guarantees to business are worthless; we can't hire soldiers to go to Mavortis to look for our money, and even if we could we can't pay any oarsmen to row them there in our fleet of not-yet-paid-for wars.h.i.+ps. We're so totally and comprehensively screwed, I can't think of anything that could possibly make things worse. Really I can't," he added, "and I'm a pessimist. It's so perfect it's practically beautiful. So," he said, still smiling, "what do we do now?"

To say that the Republic was bankrupt (the First Citizen told the House) was not just totally false; it was also misleading and criminally irresponsible. The Republic had lost a.s.sets to the value of twenty million nomismata. In movable goods alone, not counting real estate, the Republic still had a.s.sets in excess of a hundred million nomismata, while its realty was worth between five and ten times that amount. To talk of national bankruptcy was absurd, and anybody who continued to speak in such terms would be doing the Vesani people a grave disservice.

The stolen money would, of course, be recovered. Such a vast sum could not be dispersed through conventional banking anywhere in the world before the Republic's agents found it and reported its whereabouts to the government, whereupon immediate and devastating reprisals would be launched. No sane foreign banker would touch the money, no government would allow it to cross their border. Even if the thieves buried the money in the middle of the desert, Vesani intelligence would find it. It was, quite simply, too much money for anyone to get away with.

Until then, clearly, the Republic would have to adopt various expediencies in order to function. For all official transactions, therefore, paper money would be issued, backed by government land. Each paper note would bear a promise to repay, in gold coin, at a given date, and that promise would be honoured. For foreign business, and in particular the hiring of mercenary troops, gold coin could not be replaced by paper without the risk of triggering a crisis of confidence. Accordingly, the First Citizen said, the Bank of Charity & Social Justice had that morning agreed to loan the Treasury its entire reserve of coined gold money, amounting to eight million nomismata, on the security of land debentures. Further, the Bank was placing its entire credit at the government's disposal, enabling the Treasury to borrow from the Bank at will, without delay or formality, for the duration of the crisis. The First Citizen added that he had not, unfortunately, had an opportunity to discuss the situation with the heads of the Republic's other banks, and he could not, therefore, speak for them; however, he had every confidence that they would follow the Charity's lead, especially with regard to the provision of gold coin. On that a.s.sumption, he could a.s.sure the House that by close of business that day, the Treasury would once again be able to call upon cash reserves of at least twenty million nomismata. In simple terms, he told the House, the money was there. There was a problem. Indeed, there was a crisis, and the Vesani people had suffered an insult unprecedented in their history. But to talk, as some members of the Opposition had been doing, of a disaster, of the end of the Republic as they knew it, was utterly absurd, and he could only guess at the motivation of the individuals concerned.

As for blame, he said, there would be plenty of time for that later. As yet, the full facts of the matter were unknown; until they knew who had stolen the money, whether or not they had had the help of Vesani accomplices, whether the military authorities had had any reason to suspect that such a crime was being planned, it would be pointless and counterproductive to find fault. When the time came and all the necessary information had been a.s.sembled, a board of enquiry would make an informed decision and action would be taken. Until then, it was the duty of the House and the First Citizen to work together as never before to heal the Republic's wounds and see to it that damage to the state's interests was kept to the bare minimum. On that basis, he commended his proposed plan of action to the House.

"Ba.s.so," Antigonus said, leaning forward a little, so that his sleeve was in danger of catching fire in the candle-flame, "we haven't got eight million nomismata."

"I know," Ba.s.so said.

"You know." Antigonus nodded slowly. "Well, that's a comfort. You may be reckless to the point of insanity, but at least you're properly informed. What in G.o.d's name possessed you?"

"It's not a problem," Ba.s.so said sharply. "The other banks have covered the remaining twelve million, and I know for a fact, they really are good for the money. We'll draw down on them first. Think about it," he added, as Antigonus shook his head. "Reserves are reserves, right? Reserves are money you squirrel away because you know you won't need it, but one day you just conceivably might. So long as everyone believes the money's there, we won't need to touch a nomisma of it."

Antigonus scowled at him. "Very well," he said. "You gambled everything on shaming the other banks into-"

"A very safe bet," Ba.s.so said. "Also, it's a good loan, they'll be getting four per cent. I'm just sorry we'll miss out." He smiled, and said, "Admit it. I did all right."

"That remains to be seen."

"I did all right," Ba.s.so repeated, a little louder and slower. "The coined money isn't really the issue. In case you missed it, we've also given the government an unlimited line of credit in paper loans. Which means, of course, that we can lend the government as much as we like, at one per cent over base, for as long as we like. Now that," he added with relish, "is the sort of deal you dream about. Well?"

Antigonus sighed. "That wasn't why you did it."

"No. Does it matter?"

"Tell me why you did it."

"To save General Aelius' neck," Ba.s.so replied. "And mine too, I suppose. Will that do?"

Antigonus looked at him. "That was the reason? Really?"

Ba.s.so breathed out, long and slow. "I'd like to give it a pretty name, like loyalty," he said. "Truth is, I tend to get used to having the same people round me. I was d.a.m.ned if a bunch of pirates was going to lose me my pet soldier. Besides which, I owe him."

"Because of when your wife died."

"Partly." Ba.s.so sat up in his chair. "But anyway," he said. "You asked, and I've told you. And you've got to say it out loud. I did all right."

"You did all right."

"Thank you."

"Ba.s.so." Antigonus was looking straight at him. "We have a serious liquidity problem. You know we do."

"I know," Ba.s.so said quietly. "And I'm going to do something about it, don't you fret. I don't know, though," he added, and for the first time since the news broke, he felt tired. "Maybe I should've seen it coming. All the world brings its gold here, to a shed in a yard in the middle of town, and we're surprised when thieves show up and rob us. Do you think I've been guilty of ordinary thinking?"

Antigonus shook his head. "You can't think of everything."

"Since when?"

Inguiomera, second city of the Mavortine Confederacy, was at that time still little more than two rings of earth-and-turf ramparts around the top of a steep hill overlooking the mouth of the River Tiwas. Inside the inner ring, building was forbidden; the gra.s.sy plateau was kept clear to provide grazing for the flocks and herds of the Ingui people in the event of an attack. Between the rings, however, houses and other structures were beginning to sprout up, mostly for the use and convenience of foreign traders and the high-caste Mavortines who did business with them. The largest and most impressive building, designed and constructed by Auxentine contractors, was the Grand Lodge, where the tribes met once a year to resolve existing feuds and start new ones. There was a small and unpopular temple of the Invincible Sun, paid for by the Vesani Mission (stone-built and slate-roofed, for convenience of rebuilding every time it was burnt down). There was a market hall and a corn exchange, used only by foreigners; lodges for Sclerian, Auxentine and Vesani visitors; and a number of small shops and workshops, some of them used by Mavortines.

The barber's shop on the east side was one of the more surprising successes. Although Mavortines of every caste professed nothing but scorn for the civilised nations of the south, they were increasingly prepared to make an exception when it came to their hair. Fas.h.i.+ons, chosen apparently at random from the three major foreign cultures, came and went with bewildering speed. The Sclerian bob, often disconcertingly combined with the Vesani smooth chin and the luxuriant Auxentine moustache, swiftly gave way to the Auxentine plait (but with full Mavortine beard), which in turn was ousted by the Sclerian tonsure (with the Vesani smooth upper lip and the Auxentine forked beard), until supplanted in its turn by Vesani layering, the Mavortine moustache and the waxed-spike chin-only beard copied from Auxentine coins of the previous century. The barber, a Mavortine with nomad Hus on his mother's side, employed six men (including a genuine Vesani, who'd left the Republic in a hurry for legal reasons) and two women, and his shop was generally regarded as the social hub of Inguiomera.

A week after the raid on the Vesani Treasury, a man n.o.body had seen before walked rather diffidently into the barber's shop and looked round, clearly uncertain of the procedure. He was shown to the only vacant chair and asked what he wanted. He replied that he wasn't sure, it was his first time in a place like this, but he wanted the best and was prepared to pay for it. The barber a.s.sured him he'd put his best man on the job, and beckoned to the renegade Vesani.

The style, or combination of styles, employed on this occasion was a fairly monumental piece of work, taking a substantial amount of time, because the bill came to seven stury, best part of a day's wages for a skilled man. The customer didn't seem to mind; he paid with a gold coin, told the barber to keep the change, and left.

The Vesani hairdresser was a quick thinker, though not a particularly deep one, which was why he now found himself in the Mavortine Confederacy. He slipped the gold coin into his mouth, put seven stury of his own money into the takings pot, and saw to the next customer. Some time later, on the pretext of relieving himself, he went outside, took the coin out of his mouth and tucked it inside his shoe, where it remained for the rest of the day.

His initial intention had been to take it to the money changer on the south side and convert it into stury. On his way there, however, he paused to examine it under a lamp, and changed his mind. Instead, he went to the Vesani lodge and demanded to see the resident.

At that time, the office of Vesani resident in Inguiomera was largely informal, shared between those of the senior merchants who could be bothered to do it. On that particular day, it happened to be the turn of Brenno Reliano, a minor cousin of the wrong side of the Aureliani banking family, aged nineteen years and on his first trip abroad. He'd been in the Confederacy for three days.

As soon as Brenno saw the coin, he realised that he was looking at his pa.s.sage home. He asked the hairdresser where he'd got it, and was told the full story. No, the hairdresser hadn't seen where the man had gone and he hadn't mentioned his name or anything like that, but he shouldn't be hard to find. Just look for a Mavortine with a Sclerian skinhead, bushy whiskers and a beard like a six-inch nail.

Brenno thanked the hairdresser and, on the pretext of getting him a drink, escorted him to a small storage bay and locked him in. Then he rounded up all the Vesani in the lodge, explained what he'd found, and asked what they should do next.

Going to the authorities (Brenno's own suggestion) was dismissed out of hand. For one thing, there were no authorities in a Mavortine town; for another, it was extremely unlikely that any Mavortine would choose to help a foreigner against one of his own kind. If anything was to be done, they'd have to do it themselves. Four men refused to have anything to do with any form of violent action; that left twelve men, to search the entire settlement before the suspect could get away. A vote was taken, and it was reluctantly agreed that they should look for allies among the other foreigners.

The Auxentines refused to help, on principle; the Sclerians, however, agreed to join the search, in return for a third share in any cash reward, plus trading privileges to be agreed later. There were seventeen of them, and they also provided the Vesani with short swords and stab-proof s.h.i.+rts from their trading stock, at practically cost.

In the event, they didn't have to look far. There were nine inns and seven beer halls inside the rings, in the fifth of which they found their man. There was a brief scuffle, but nothing to excite interest; they hauled the man outside, cut his purse off his belt, and found it was stuffed with newly minted Vesani nomismata, all bearing the head of Ba.s.sia.n.u.s Severus. They marched the man back to the Vesani lodge for questioning.