Rise of a Merchant Prince Page 4

  Erik laughed. “I’m hungry, too.”

  “Then let us find an inn—” said Nakor.

  “A quiet inn,” Roo interjected.

  “—a quiet inn,” continued Nakor, “and eat.”

  “Then what, Master?” asked Sho Pi.

  Nakor grimaced, but said only, “Then we go to the Sign of the White Wing, boy.” He shook his head.

  Pointing to Sho Pi, he said to the others, “This one has much to learn.”

  The Sign of the White Wing was nothing like what Roo expected. Then he considered he really hadn’t known what to expect. He had trafficked with whores before, but that had been on the line of march, with camp followers who would tumble a prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 33

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  man beside to his comrades and be off to the next as soon as he could count out her pay.

  But this was a different world. The five slightly inebriated men had had to ask several times to find their way. After a few failed attempts, they finally discovered a modest building near the edge of the Merchants’ Quarter. The sign out front had been almost impossible to make out, being little more than a simple metal wing painted white, unlike the more boldly painted large ones marking more traditional trades.

  The door had been opened by a servant who admitted the five without a word, indicating they should wait in a tiny anteroom, without furnishing of any sort, only decorated by some nondescript tapestries that hung on the two side walls. Opposite the entrance stood another door, of simple painted wood.

  When it opened, a well-dressed if somewhat matronly woman had stepped through.

  “Yes?” she had asked.

  The men glanced at one another, and it was Nakor who had at last answered. “We were told to come here.”

  “By whom?” she then asked, looking somewhat unconvinced.

  “Robert de Loungville,” said Erik softly, as if afraid to raise his voice.

  Instantly the woman’s features had transformed themselves from dubious to joyful. “Bobby de Loungville! By the gods, if you’re friends of Bobby’s, you’re welcome here.”

  She then clapped her hands once and the door she had slipped through opened wide, revealing a short entryway occupied by two large armed guards. As prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 34

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  they stepped aside, Roo thought it clear they had been standing by to ensure the safety of the woman.

  “I’m Jamila, your hostess, and here,” she said, reaching another door, which she pulled wide, “we enter the House of the White Wing.”

  The five men gaped. Even Nakor, who had seen riches in the court of the Empress of Great Kesh, stood in stunned awe. The room wasn’t that opulent; far from it. In fact it was the lack of gaudy displays of wealth that made the setting so impressive.

  Everything about the room was subtle and tasteful, though Roo would have been hard put to say what made it seem so. Chairs and divans were placed around the room so that those inside would be within sight of one another, yet there was a clear sense of each area being apart from the others. This was made abundantly clear by the fact of a wealthy-looking man sprawling upon one divan, sipping wine from a goblet while two lovely young women attended him.

  One sat upon the floor, allowing him to caress her shoulders and neck, while the other hovered over him, offering him sweetmeats from a gilded tray.

  As if by magic, girls appeared through several curtains. All were modestly dressed, like the two attending the man already in the room, wearing loose-fitting gowns of light material. That they were covered from neck to ankle did nothing to hide the curves of their bodies as they moved to greet their guests.

  Each man found a pair of girls leading him toward one of the chairs or divans, allowing him to choose how he wished to relax, sitting or lying down.

  Before he knew it, Roo had been led to a divan and gently pushed down on it, had his feet raised and prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 35

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  placed on the divan, had a goblet of wine handed to him; one of the girls began firmly kneading the muscles in his shoulders before he spoke.

  The woman called Jamila said, “When you’re ready, the girls can show you to your rooms.”

  Jadow, circling the waist of one of the young girls with one powerful arm, pulled her toward him, planted a loud kiss upon her cheek, and said, “Men and gods, I’ve died and gone to paradise!”

  This brought a round of laughter, and Roo settled back, letting the light touch of the girls’ hands relax him in a way he’d not experienced in years.

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  Homecoming

  Roo yawned.

  The body next to him stirred under white sheets and he realized where he was. He smiled, remembering the night before, and ran his hand under the sheet and across the back of the young woman next to him.

  He didn’t think of her as a whore; the term was fit for the women who followed soldiers around camp, or who leaned over the balconies in the Poor Quarter of Krondor shouting ribald suggestions and insults at the workers and sailors below, but these ladies, he decided, were unlike anything he had imagined as a boy.

  They were flirtatious, seemed well educated, were impeccable in their manners, and, as Roo had discovered the night before, creative and enthusiastic.

  The young woman next to him had taught Roo more things about pleasing a woman and himself in one night than he had learned from every woman he had been with in his young life. And they smelled wonderful, like flowers and spices. He found himself becoming aroused and with a grin continued to caress the body next to him.

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  The girl awoke, and if she had any problem with being awakened thus, she masked it with incredible skill; she actually seemed pleased to discover Roo lying next to her.

  “Good morning,” she said with a wide smile.

  Running her fingers along his stomach, she said,

  “What a nice way to wake up.”

  As he gathered the girl into his arms, Roo considered himself fortunate. He had no illusions about his looks; he was easily the homeliest boy from Ravensburg, but he had managed to bed two of the local girls in town before he and Erik had been forced to flee. He knew, given enough time, he could charm most anyone, though he rarely tried. But now he was alive, with gold in his belt, and a woman willing to make him feel handsome. It was the start of a wonderful day.

  Later he bid the girl good-bye, realizing that he couldn’t remember if her name was Mary or Marie.

  He found Erik already dressed and waiting in the antechamber, speaking with a particularly pretty young blonde.

  Erik looked up. “Ready to leave?”

  Roo nodded. “The others?”

  “We’ll see them when we get back from Ravensburg, or at least I will.” He rose and was still holding on to the girl’s hand.

  There was something about his manner that struck Roo as odd, and as they left the brothel, he remarked, “You seemed smitten with that pretty girl.”

  Erik blushed. “Nothing of the kind. She’s. . .”

  After a silent moment, Roo supplied, “A whore?”

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  and they were forced to wend their way through the press. Erik said, “I guess. Something more like a lady, I think.”

  Roo shrugged, the gesture lost on Erik “They get paid well, that’s for certain.” He was now considering the diminishment of his purse as he weighed the cost versus the reward. He decided he needed to husband his capital a bit more carefully. There were far less expensive whores to be found.

  “Where to next?” asked Roo.

  “I need to talk to Sebastian Lender
.”

  Roo brightened. Barret’s Coffee House was one of the places he wished to visit, and having a social call to make upon one of the solicitors who plied their business there was an eminently acceptable reason.

  They headed to the area of the city known locally as the Merchants’ Quarter, even though it held only a slightly higher percentage of businesses than elsewhere in the city. What marked the Merchants’

  Quarter was a high number of very costly homes, many erected behind or above the stores that generated their wealth, the highest concentration of influential men who were not nobility.

  The craftsmen had their guilds—the thieves, too: the Mockers—and the nobility had their rank from birth, but men who pursued their fortune through commerce and trade had only their wits. While a few of them had banded together to create trade associations from time to time, most were independent businessmen without allies but with many competitors.

  So those who survived and became successful had few peers with whom to share their pride of accomplishment, few fellows with whom to boast of prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 39

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  their good fortune and perspicacity. A few, like a merchant Roo had met named Helmut Grindle, kept their appearance modest, as if to call attention to themselves might bring ruin. But others chose to shout their success to the world by building huge town houses, rivaling those owned by the nobility, throughout the city. And over the years the nature of the Merchants’ Quarter had changed.

  As more and more rich merchants purchased property in the area, the cost of land rose so high that now few businesses in the Merchants’ Quarter were owned by those who lived there; the price of housing was too dear. There were a few modest storefront enterprises, established by the fathers or grandfathers of those tending them now, that continued to provide conventional goods and services to those in the area—a bakery on one street, a cobbler on another—but they were quickly being replaced by shops specializing in luxurious items for these very wealthy merchants: jewelers, tailors of the finest clothing, and traders in rare goods. And those who lived in the Merchants’ Quarter were now almost exclusively these very wealthy businessmen, those with far-flung financial empires elsewhere in the province or in distant cities. In time the last of the modest merchants would sell their property, as the offers to buy became too good to refuse, and relocate to more distant quarters in the foulburg, that expanding portion of the city beyond the old wall.

  Barret’s Coffee House stood at the corner of a street now known as Arutha’s Way, in honor of the late Prince of Krondor, father to the King—but still called by most locals Sandy Beach Walk—and Miller’s Road, a route that had once led from a mill prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 40

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  no longer extant to a farmer’s gate long torn down.

  Barret’s was a tall building, three stories, with two open doors at the corner, one on each street.

  Standing in each door was a waiter: a man with a white tunic, black trousers, black boots, and a blue-and-white-striped apron.

  The three other street corners were occupied by a tavern, a ship’s broker, and, diagonally across the street from Barret’s, an abandoned home. It had once been splendid, perhaps one of the finest in Krondor, but misfortune had cost its owner dearly from all appearances. It had been neglected long before it was abandoned, and its past glory was now faded by peeling paint, boarded-up windows, missing tiles from the roof, and dirt everywhere.

  Roo glanced at that building. “Maybe someday I’ll buy that house and fix it up.”

  Erik smiled. “I don’t doubt it, Roo.”

  Roo and Erik walked past the waiter standing at the door on Miller’s Road, and entered. The two outside doors opened on a simple receiving area, offering several well-upholstered chairs, but otherwise closed off from the main floor of the coffee house by a wooden railing. There was one opening in the railing blocked by a man attired in a manner similar to the two waiters at the door. The main difference was that his apron was black.

  A tall man, he looked eye to eye at Erik, then down at Roo as he said, “Yes?”

  Erik said, “We’ve come to see Sebastian Lender.”

  The man nodded. “Follow me, please.” He turned and walked onto the main floor of the coffee house.

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  drinking coffee, while waiters hurried from table to table. To the left as they reached the center of the room a broad flight of stairs led up to a balcony rather than a true second floor, leaving the center of the room open to the high vaulted ceiling. Looking up, Roo saw there was no third floor, but rather a double set of high windows above the second-floor balcony. Barret’s was a very open, well-lit building as a result. They reached another waist-high railing, which cut off the rear third of the room, and there the waiter said, “Please wait here.”

  The waiter moved a small section of the rail that was on hinges, and stepped through and toward a table at the far side of the house. Roo motioned upward and Erik’s eyes went to where he pointed.

  Above them, on the second-floor landing, men sat at tables. Roo said, “The brokers.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve heard a thing or two,” said Roo.

  Erik laughed and shook his head. Most likely he had heard it from Helmut Grindle, the trader they had traveled with for a while when coming to Krondor. Roo and Grindle had spoken of many things commercial, and while Erik had found some of the conversation diverting, as often as not it put him to sleep.

  A moment later, a dignified-looking man wearing an unadorned but expensive tunic with an overvest and cravat approached. He studied the two young men before him for a moment, then said, “My word!

  Young von Darkmoor and Mr. Avery, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Roo nodded as Erik said, “Yes, Mr. Lender. We gained our pardon.”

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  “Most unusual,” said Lender. He motioned for the waiter to open the railing for him to step through.

  “Only members are permitted behind this second railing.” He indicated with a wave of his hand that Roo and Erik should sit at an empty table a few feet away.

  He motioned for the waiter and said, “Three coffees.” Looking at Roo and Erik, he asked, “Have you broken fast today?” When they answered in the neg-ative, he said to the waiter, “Some rolls, jams and honey, and a platter of cheese and sausage.”

  As the waiter hurried off, Lender said, “As you are pardoned, you obviously do not need my services as a solicitor, so perhaps you need them as a litigator?”

  Erik said, “Not really. I came to pay you your fee.”

  Lender began to object, but Erik said, “I know you refused to take gold before, but despite your having lost the pleading, we are here and alive, so I think you’re entitled to your fee.” He produced his money pouch and put it upon the table. It clinked with the heavy sound of gold coins.

  Lender said, “You’ve prospered, young gentlemen.”

  “It’s a payment for services from the Prince,” said Roo.

  Shrugging, Lender opened the purse, counted out fifteen golden sovereigns, then closed the purse, pushing it back toward Erik. He pocketed the coins.

  “Is that enough?” asked Erik.

  “Had I won, I would have charged you fifty,” said Lender as the coffee arrived.

  Roo had never cared for coffee, so he sipped at it, prince.qxd 9/4/02 10:36 AM Page 43

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  expecting to put aside the cup and ignore it. But to his surprise, instead of the bitter brew he had tasted before, this was a rich complex taste. “This is good!”

  he blurted.

  Erik laug
hed and tried his, then said, “It is.”

  “Keshian,” said Lender. “Far superior to what is grown in the Kingdom. More flavor, less bitterness.”

  He waved his hand around the room. “Barret’s is the first establishment in Krondor to specialize exclusively in fine coffees, and as a sign of his wisdom, the founder placed his first shop here in the heart of the Merchant’s Quarter, rather than trying to sell to the nobility.”

  Roo instantly came alert; stories of success appealed to him. “Why is that?” he asked.

  “Because the nobility are difficult to approach, expect extreme discounts, and rarely pay in a timely fashion.”

  Roo laughed. “I’ve heard that from the wine merchants at home.”

  Lender continued. “Mr. Barret knew that the local businessmen often needed a place away from their homes or offices where they could discuss business over a meal, without the distractions of an inn’s taproom.”

  Erik again nodded, having spent a fair part of his life in the taproom of the inn where he had worked as a child.

  “So was born Barret’s Coffee House, which prospered from the first week it was opened. Originally a more modest enterprise, it has existed for nearly seventy-five years, in this location for close to sixty.”

  “What about the brokers, and syndicates, and ...

  you?” asked Roo.

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  Lender smiled as a tray of hot rolls, breakfast meats, cheeses, and fruits, along with pots of jam, honey, and butter, was brought to the table.

  Suddenly hungry, Roo took a roll and slathered butter and honey on it while Lender answered him.

  “Some of those without offices of their own used to conduct business all day long and, to keep Barret happy, would buy coffee, tea, and food in a steady stream. Seeing this a pleasant alternative to hours of empty tables between meals, Mr. Barret ensured certain tables would remain reserved for those businessmen.

  “They formed the first syndicates and brokerage alliances. And they needed representation” —he put his hand upon his chest and bowed slightly—“hence litigators and solicitors became habitués of the establishment. When things became crowded, the son of the founder moved to this inn, tore out the third floor, and created the exclusive members’ area above, and things have continued that way since.” He motioned at the second rail. “Some members were forced to use this end of the ground floor, hence the newer railing. Now one must purchase a location in the hall for one’s syndicate or brokerage, or risk not having a table at which to sit when arriving to conduct business.”