not being observed, and he faced no expectations other than his own.
He wanted a drink. Or ten. The visit with Ludgar had left him uneasy. The visit with Ruby had pushed him over the edge into fear. Ruby had expected some move from the Merchant Authority. Given her precautions, she had reasons to believe that move might be deadly.
No, he thought, shifting to look out the window. She had expected a move from Finch. Nothing he could have said or done would minimize the truth. Ludgar didn’t particularly want to believe someone as unimpressive as Finch was capable of flexing political muscles; it had not been difficult to convince him that she hadn’t.
Ruby couldn’t be moved in the same way. Jester regretted having avoided her so assiduously in the past. Had he not, he might have been able to influence her opinion.
Ah well. He was not yet done for the day. James Varson, the third man he had been sent to see was not ATerafin. He worked under the auspices of the Merchants’ Guild, which was, in theory, neutral. Jester understood the limits of theory. The Merchants’ Guild was ruled by a governing body, and the governing body was of course composed of representatives from those families who were both moneyed and old.
James Varson was not a direct descendant of any of those families. His roots were not as poor or common as Jester’s or any other member of the den, but his family’s wealth was relatively recent. They did not own land on the Isle; they didn’t own a lease there, either. James’ uncle owned a storefront in the Common, not the High Market. But the store, like Haval’s, was prosperous. Unlike Haval’s, it did not cater almost entirely to people who would otherwise shop exclusively in the High Market; James’ uncle was a cobbler.
Varson was not a man Jester had much social contact with; although he was younger, he was otherwise as much fun as Barston. The only thing that caused the man to show any genuine enthusiasm was music, which is why Jester knew him at all. The bards tolerated him, and one or two appeared to actually enjoy the man’s company, although the conversation in their presence took a turn for the technical.
He did not, to Jester’s mind, join in the high-stakes power politics that divided the merchant Houses from the common merchants who, like anyone else in the city, were simply trying to make a living. He was therefore curious about both Finch’s message and James’ possible reactions to it. Unlike Ruby or Ludgar, Finch had no authority over James; an argument could be made that the inverse was true. Terafin had a House member serving as part of the governing council of the Merchant Authority, but Finch did not fill that role.
Jarven did. He did not, however, do so because he was ATerafin; only three of The Ten had managed to gain such a seat. He had earned his place on the council at about the same time he had been adopted into Terafin; Jester did not think this coincidental. The Merchant Authority could in theory ask Jarven to resign, but as the Merchant Authority was composed of men and women who had had various dealings with Jarven over the years, it was likely that no one could be found who was willing to publicly make that demand; privately wouldn’t cut it.
Jester entered the Merchant Authority, passing between the Authority guards, who failed to notice his existence. Failure in this case was good; if they did notice someone, it usually boded ill for their chances of entry. He passed the throng of merchants and businessmen who were lined up at the open wickets, and headed toward the offices located to the right.
The guards who fronted the open doors to the offices were less generous in their appraisal of those who approached than the guards on the exterior of the building. It was in these offices that merchants of note, wealth, or significant power bypassed the wickets and the lines which were mandatory for everyone else. For many of those men and women, entrance into the
He wanted a drink. Or ten. The visit with Ludgar had left him uneasy. The visit with Ruby had pushed him over the edge into fear. Ruby had expected some move from the Merchant Authority. Given her precautions, she had reasons to believe that move might be deadly.
No, he thought, shifting to look out the window. She had expected a move from Finch. Nothing he could have said or done would minimize the truth. Ludgar didn’t particularly want to believe someone as unimpressive as Finch was capable of flexing political muscles; it had not been difficult to convince him that she hadn’t.
Ruby couldn’t be moved in the same way. Jester regretted having avoided her so assiduously in the past. Had he not, he might have been able to influence her opinion.
Ah well. He was not yet done for the day. James Varson, the third man he had been sent to see was not ATerafin. He worked under the auspices of the Merchants’ Guild, which was, in theory, neutral. Jester understood the limits of theory. The Merchants’ Guild was ruled by a governing body, and the governing body was of course composed of representatives from those families who were both moneyed and old.
James Varson was not a direct descendant of any of those families. His roots were not as poor or common as Jester’s or any other member of the den, but his family’s wealth was relatively recent. They did not own land on the Isle; they didn’t own a lease there, either. James’ uncle owned a storefront in the Common, not the High Market. But the store, like Haval’s, was prosperous. Unlike Haval’s, it did not cater almost entirely to people who would otherwise shop exclusively in the High Market; James’ uncle was a cobbler.
Varson was not a man Jester had much social contact with; although he was younger, he was otherwise as much fun as Barston. The only thing that caused the man to show any genuine enthusiasm was music, which is why Jester knew him at all. The bards tolerated him, and one or two appeared to actually enjoy the man’s company, although the conversation in their presence took a turn for the technical.
He did not, to Jester’s mind, join in the high-stakes power politics that divided the merchant Houses from the common merchants who, like anyone else in the city, were simply trying to make a living. He was therefore curious about both Finch’s message and James’ possible reactions to it. Unlike Ruby or Ludgar, Finch had no authority over James; an argument could be made that the inverse was true. Terafin had a House member serving as part of the governing council of the Merchant Authority, but Finch did not fill that role.
Jarven did. He did not, however, do so because he was ATerafin; only three of The Ten had managed to gain such a seat. He had earned his place on the council at about the same time he had been adopted into Terafin; Jester did not think this coincidental. The Merchant Authority could in theory ask Jarven to resign, but as the Merchant Authority was composed of men and women who had had various dealings with Jarven over the years, it was likely that no one could be found who was willing to publicly make that demand; privately wouldn’t cut it.
Jester entered the Merchant Authority, passing between the Authority guards, who failed to notice his existence. Failure in this case was good; if they did notice someone, it usually boded ill for their chances of entry. He passed the throng of merchants and businessmen who were lined up at the open wickets, and headed toward the offices located to the right.
The guards who fronted the open doors to the offices were less generous in their appraisal of those who approached than the guards on the exterior of the building. It was in these offices that merchants of note, wealth, or significant power bypassed the wickets and the lines which were mandatory for everyone else. For many of those men and women, entrance into the
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