The Slime Farmer - 109 Ecthys Aftermath 2 of 2

Vesia coughed in embarrassment, having unknowingly blurted out such a question in shock. Was she a still a schoolgirl, to have no control over her words, she castigated herself silently.

Undoubtedly, this senior clerk business was tougher than she thought.

“The world of trade is inherently about exchange, about supply and demand, about profit. You must define clearly what these things mean for you, or you will become overwhelmed by the uncertainties, the instabilities characteristic to our profession.”

Head Clerk Ebmond rested his eyes on Vesia as he spoke.

“We are merchants. Material goods are not the only supply, are not the only things precious.”

An old memory sparked at the words and she could not stop herself from reminiscence.

‘We are merchants.’

The same words had been said by Madame Caria to her, long ago.

‘We trade everything for profit. Do you know, Vesia, even emotions and souls have worth in gold. You must understand yourself: what you must protect viciously, what you can show to the market, and what you can easily sell and buy. If not, you will drown in your own greed, and the greed of others. Do not allow yourself to be taken by the current, but do not be a rock that clashes against the river either. Stand firm and supple as a waterweed, knowing no shock, absorbing every change in the tide.’

Vesia felt, once again, a small sharp pain in her heart.

Madame Caria had drowned in the currents she herself had warned Vesia against. She had chosen to take the cup of honor rather than face the verdict of the court.

Vesia took a deep breath. It barely helped.

“Yes, I shall remember. Thank you.”

He nodded at her after a moment of staring, then glanced at the lady in farewell and disembarked.

His voice sounded outside, muffled by wood and curtain. “Embel, go.”

Embel was one of the carriage drivers assigned to the closed carriages that the high-ranked officers of the company used. Specifically, he was Manager Tennar’s personal carriage-driver.

As the carriage started on its way once more, the inside was silent. Vesia already knew that the lady did not prefer conversation. As for her…

The lady seemed to sense her conflicted heart.

“Ramad Degaine is not going to trial,” the lady said, almost idly.

Vesia stared at her.

“His interrogation finished last night. The story of his death will likely make the rounds this afternoon.”

Vesia could only choke out. “I thank you for the news.”

The lady nodded. “You need not worry.”

At those words, part of the weight pressing down on Vesia’s heart dissipated. She didn’t even know she had been that troubled by the pirate.

Madame Caria would have killed herself for nothing.

Vesia did not know if she could ever forgive her mentor. But the woman’s children, at least, were innocent.

*

Tennar glanced up as the lady strode into his office.

He stood in politeness, paused his greeting as she turned the mask of gently smiling serenity on him.

His lips twitched. “My lady, whenever you smile like that I feel like calamity is about to fall. I expect they took the bait, then?”

She nodded to him, almost absently, walked to the wine-cabinet and poured them both goblets of brunwine.

Tennar leaned back on his chair, smiled as she slid the brass-embedded glass goblet to him. “Ebmond must be happy.”

“He is.”

Tennar sipped the brunwine.

It went down his throat silkily and settled warmth in his stomach, the aged mellow fruity bitterness and the subtle sweetness with the hint of zaziphos in the aftertaste telling him the lady had poured from one of the jars she herself had distilled.

They sat there awhile, sipping good brunwine and thinking deeply, the long years of their friendship making for a familiar and comfortable silence.

The week since the pirate Degaine had been caught was a frantic exercise of calculation and information gathering. The fact that everyone had been doing the same thing covered the company people’s movements somewhat.

It was known that the pirate barge had Bluzand supplies in it.

Tennar had spent considerable time fending off people’s attempts to implicate them in that Chelua-damned pirate’s violence. Thankfully, they were not alone. A few other merchant companies, including the powerful Carmedel-based Bargaret Company, had helped sweep those rumors away decisively.

His lips twitched.

Bargaret’s head, Tamre zi Drac, had indeed been very conclusive in his response.

Tennar’s heart warmed at the thought of how many particularly inconsiderate people were now very very regretful of their big mouths.

That was only one problem solved, however.

While Degaine’s people were cunning, the disappearing cargo that Vodren had discovered was not their particular style. But the fact that part of that cargo had been found in the pirate barge was undeniable.

He thought of Amberlon, and mentally rolled his eyes.

They were both companies specializing in condiments, but Amberlon leaned more toward the processing of mystic ingredients.

The owner of Amberlon thought it fun to have a rivalry with Bluzand and created his own spice department at the time when Bluzand was still finding its feet.

Bluzand survived those early years against an established giant because Amberlon’s lofty reputation did not allow them to venture into ‘vulgar’ common spices, which thwarted most of Uller il Telmaran of Amberlon’s attempts to provoke the small but rising Bluzand Merchant Company.

That noble company head was overly stubborn, however. There were a number of competitors to Bluzand that had risen over the years that Tennar suspected had been bankrolled with Amberlon gold.

Of course, Bluzand which was created by a former imperial master chef would always come out on top in a battle involving flavor and flavor combination.

There had always been animosity because of that fact.

There had always been conflict.

But not like this.

If this was really an Amberlon plot…hm, then Uller il Telmaran must be growing old. Bluzand had only ever been an amusement to him.

The only reason Amberlon would come at Bluzand directly was that someone from Amberlon took the ‘rivalry’ seriously and decided to do something about it to curry favour with the company head.

If that happened, Uller il Telmaran would have sent Bluzand’s lady that said fool’s head on a platter before now.

There’d been no heads in the mail recently.

No overly-dramatic noble scions at their door either.

Conclusion, it wasn’t Amberlon.

The more likely explanation was that one of Bluzand’s actual competitors with had a connection to Amberlon had decided to gamble with pirates.

Gylen Dahall in the mix complicated things. Vice-manager Lan Dahall was a grasping harpy that hated Bluzand, but she in her superiority would not countenance working with river-bandits, much less someone like Degaine.

Tennar glanced at Sarel, who was tipping her goblet to and fro, letting the red-amber contents swirl in the clear goblet. The brunwine and the delicately wired glass goblet cast colorful shadows on the table when struck by sunlight.

Degaine was dead, with no small effort from his friend.

He didn’t ask why she’d reached out to contacts long unused just to make certain that the pirate would not escape the harshest punishment even though the pirate’s actions had already slated him for execution.

He had seen Defi’s face at the wharf that night, after all. The blank expression and burning near-feral eyes had been frightening from a person who he had determined had a calmly steady personality.

He sighed.

Where did the lady find all the peculiar people she claimed as friends?

Decisively, he ignored the fact that she considered him one of her friends too. At most, he was the normal friend, the most normal, yes.

A knock sounded and Vodren came in.

Tennar examined the man’s weary appearance and stood to pour him a drink as well, then refilled his and Sarel’s goblets.

Vodren nodded in thanks as he sank into a chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them to study the two heads of the company. “How is Vesia doing?”

“Acceptable.” Sarel shifted a shoulder in a faint shrug, her face already returned to its usual neutral cast. “Needs experience.”

Tennar snorted, a smile suddenly curling his lips as he thought of how she pestered Telomberne until they caved to a meeting. “She’s persistent. She’ll learn.”

Vodren looked faintly relieved.

Then the former head clerk’s expression grew more professional. “Darred and I have finished the investigation. Other than the usual, there were only two who we didn’t know about. Darred’s dealing with them now. As for the usual, I had to scare off one or two. They were the most obvious ones.”

Tennar nodded. There were spies in every company. It was just prudent to keep a few that were known. “Our reputation will be in rags for a time.”

Vodren nodded, fury and sorrow flashing across his face that then left shame in their wake. “I must once more apologize. I am very sorry about this.”

Sarel motioned with a hand, as if to wave the wretched expression on the man’s face away. “Atone, then. You are no use to the company if you fall into despair.”

My lady…

Tennar was about to say something placating to them both.

But then Vodren smiled, weak but genuine, the first smile on his dour face since that night. “My lady, has anyone ever told you that you’re an odd person?”

“Of course.”

Vodren sighed. “You won’t accept my resignation?”

“I’ve spent years training you,” the lady scoffed. “You think I’ll let that effort go easily, just for this?”

Vodren smiled again, wider now but still falling short of the snarly toothy smiles that Tennar had gotten used to in the years since Vodren had become a company officer. “Then I place myself at your disposal. I beg you, use me as you please.”

Tennar peered suspiciously at the other man.

Who are you to call the lady ‘odd’, he griped inwardly. You’re the odd one. Odder than odd, even!

But the lady only nodded and motioned him to continue the report.

Tennar sighed.

Suddenly, he wanted to find Vesia, who was also a normal person that was now in the lady’s circle, and commiserate about eccentric people they had to put up with. He had of course recognized her expressions that betrayed similar thoughts as he did. They were the normal people in this circle of weirdos!

Decisively, he ignored the fact that to be able to get along well with the ‘weirdos’, they weren’t that normal either.

“We’ve managed to gain some insight from the pirate’s barge, and the ship that was waiting for it.” Vodren huffed and growled. “We’d know more if the ship hadn’t been crushed and the papers sent to the depths. Bridge-maker take overly enthusiastic brainless whelps.”

There was an amused tick to the corner of Sarel’s mouth that Tennar did not understand. But then Vodren’s next words had his attention.

“The traces point to more than one company.”

Sarel smiled, sharp and entertained. “The kids are banding together?”

Bluzand was not a large company. They only had three ships at sea.

But the concept of common spice-mixes ready-made for consumption was pioneered by Bluzand. In that particular field, it was the largest in the empire.

There were competitors, but so far only the Menaro Company headed by Claud Menaro and the Guis-Bimel Spice Company headed by Aldabar il Chambor came close enough to be called true rivals. Menaro and il Chambor had the gold to spend on master chefs.

There were several dozen other businesses that dealt in common spices. They were small but vicious.

Tennar approved of viciousness. But it was another matter if he and his were being targeted.

He grinned suddenly, the wide and unrestrained beaming expression uncharacteristic to his general mild manner. “Aren’t they too unruly? They should know that there are acceptable forms of merchantry in this empire. Working with someone like Degaine isn’t one of them.”

In an unassuming office within the Bluzand building in beautiful red-cloaked Ecthys, three odd people started planning a campaign to gain satisfaction out of metaphorically flaying the hides off those who dared make Bluzand their enemy.

And profit, of course.

Always profit.

*

Vesia stared at the pile of papers that Head Clerk Ebmond had dropped on her desk.

“Sir, I’m in charge of what?”

“The negotiations with Telomberne, to collaborate on skincare products.” The head clerk brushed some dust off his cuff casually. “I will be oversight, of course. But do make the best of it.”

“Sir, wouldn’t the negotiations go better with someone…more suited? Er, a head clerk? Or the…the vice-manager?” Her voice grew weaker as his stern stare did not waver from her face.

“They are all busy,” he said tonelessly.

“Yes sir?”

“This is part of your client’s account.”

“It…is?” Vesia quickly recounted the terms of the contract in her mind. There was nothing there about Telomberne or skincare products. But there were some odd clauses on ‘special substances’.

Defi, she cried in her head, what exactly are you selling to Bluzand?!

Head Clerk Ebmond narrowed his eyes on her. “Tell me what you know.”

That’s the problem, Vesia wailed silently.

What did she know? Nothing! She knew nothing!

What negotiations with Telomberne? There were no negotiations! Telomberne had not contacted Bluzand after that first disastrous meeting! Which according to the higher-ups was successful?

Sir, she wanted to ask, can you see the future?

She forcibly calmed herself, before the boring stare of her superior officer drilled into her brain and actually read her thoughts. Frantically ordering her mind, she assumed the head clerk was asking about the reasons for the collaboration.

She offered hesitantly: “Sir, we have no apothecaries. And Telomberne apothecaries are known to often move independently of the apothecary’s guild. Sir.”

Skincare products meant apothecaries.

Contracts, she reminded herself. If it’s about working with apothecaries, it’s always about contracts.

He stared at her. She stared back cautiously.

“Good.” He said at last. “Do well.”

She was swamped with relief. “Yessir!”

“You will be using a desk in my office for the time being. This is sensitive.” He turned to leave. “I will be…busy, as well.”

When he was out of the room, Vesia slumped over her desk, ignoring the sympathetic and envious looks from the other senior clerks in the room.

Was Bluzand always this eccentric and she only now noticed it?!

**

**

Notes:

Cup of honor – killed herself by drinking poison. It’s an Ascharonian tradition for those who are guilty of crimes to be able to choose the cup of honor rather than be taken to court for trial.

To be convicted is a shame that will persist through generations, and the family reputation would have been tainted by the guilty person going to jail and taking the label of ‘convict’. It’s called a ‘cup of honor’ because it spares the rest of the family by metaphorically washing away the criminal’s personal sins with blood.