"But good prophecy brings its own success. You see, what you are doing is really the best course in the long run. I take the long-range view. I see what is going to happen and what should happen. And you are the instrument.
"You have a role in the game that's unfolding, a great and important role—play it, Nibro, play it!"
Nibro stood up, his fists clenched. "You have raved enough! Get out of here before I have you thrown out!"
The New Lawyer inclined his head the barest fraction of an inch. "I have said my say, Elder Ghevin."
He turned and walked regally to the door. He had it partly opened when Nibro called after him.
"I'll have you know, old fool," he said caustically, "that I can and will do what I want to do, and no one will tell me differently. I am the Elder Leader, not you. I will do things my way, not yours. I will do exactly as I please!"
The old man turned slowly to face the desk again. There was a sardonic smile on his lips. "I know, Elder Leader. That's exactly what I said you would do."
"Get out!" snarled Nibro peSyg. "Get out!"
Korvin peKorvin Danoy grinned wryly as he looked over his books—the real account books, not the ones he kept on hand for priestly busy-bodies to read.
As Keeper of the Bank of Sugon, it was his duty to see that the interest on the money loaned out minus the interest on cobalt deposits was kept at the proper level. Well, he admitted to himself, it had been kept at a proper level—proper for him, that is. The profit, minus his salary, was supposed to be sent by courier south from the northern province of Sugon, over the Ancestral Mountains, to the priestly treasury in Holy Gelusar.
The books before him indicated as a matter of record that the money sent south wasn't exactly what it should be. In fact, it was a devil of a lot less.
He closed the heavy ledger, sighed, stood up behind his desk, and turned to look out the window at Lidacor, the northern province's largest seaport and leading city.
He was somewhat shorter than the average Nidorian, fortyish, with a pronounced paunch that stretched his green vest-coat in front, and a faint touch of silver-gray in the golden body-down that covered his skin. His stocky face reflected quiet humor, but his dark amber eyes showed shrewd, calculating intelligence.
The city itself had changed in the past several decades. It was not like the southern seaports. Sugon's soil was rocky, and made poor farmland; most of Sugon's wealth had come from mining—metals, building stone, and gems. And, of course, the manufacturing that had begun since the Lidacor School of Engineering had started to turn out graduate technicians. Here and there over the city, several chimneys poured out wood smoke from the fires that drove the factories' steam engines.
Sugon, poor in farm resources, had found a way to supplement its income—thanks to Korvin peKorvin. He was a well-loved man in Sugon, a public benefactor. Priests and people alike hailed him on the streets; he had diverted money into the expansion program of the Temple of Lidacor; he had aided in the growth of the Sugon School of Divine Law and Sciences; he had immeasurably increased Sugon's wealth and standard of living to cover his thoughtful mismanagement of Bank funds.
No one would begrudge him the few weights of cobalt that now and then found their way into his own pocket.
Wearily, he picked up the phone that connected with the outer office. "Has that priest from Gelusar come back yet?"
"Yes, Korvin peKorvin," his secretary's voice said. "The Grandfather is waiting in the vestibule for you. Should I send him in?"
"You might as well," Korvin peKorvin said.
There was no reason why a priest from Gelusar should have come up at this time of year. Six months ago, one of the Council's lackeys had brought word of the new edict handed down by the Council and signed by the Elder Ghevin. The loan interest rates had been raised, and the deposit interests had been lowered.
Korvin peKorvin Danoy had obediently promulgated the change in rate—little as he liked it—and had juggled the bank's books and accounts in such a way that life proceeded as usual in Sugon.
Two months before, he had sent the quarterly tithe to Gelusar. He had not expected to hear from the Council for another month yet.
The door of his office opened. A square-shouldered young man in a priest's blue tunic entered. His body-down was coated with road dust; he had ridden long and hard it seemed.
Some day, Korvin thought, we'll build a railroad across the mountains, like the one they're building between Gelusar and Sundacor.
"What can I do for you, Grandfather?" he said aloud.
"My name is Drelk peShawm Brajjyd," the young priest said. "Are you Korvin peKorvin Danoy, Keeper of the Bank of Sugon?"
"That's my name, Grandfather," Korvin admitted amiably. "And my title. Have a good trip from Gelusar?"
"Not very. The road was dry—as you can see from the half-ton of dust I've picked up."
"You must have been dry, too," Korvin peKorvin remarked. "My secretary tells me you arrived half an hour ago, while I was out—and, seeing I was out, you set off in search of the nearest place of refreshment. I think you'll find our peych-beer poorly, Grandfather; Sugon is not noted for its agriculture."
"Enough conversation," the priest said. His voice was hard and cold; Korvin peKorvin eyed him uneasily, wondering what was coming.
"I have been sent by the Elder Ghevin, in whose retinue I count myself."
"Ah, yes; I'm acquainted with him. Nibro peSyg Sesom was born right here in Sugon."
"Nibro peSyg Ghevin." An ugly expression crossed the priest's face. "As you probably are aware, the Elder Ghevin is engaged in the task of rebuilding the Holy Temple at Gelusar. This requires money, Korvin peKorvin."
"I'm aware of that. I deal in money."
"Six months ago, there was an adjustment in the interest rates of the five Banks," the priest went on. "In four of the provinces, there was an immediate and noticeable increase in the revenue derived. In Sugon, sorry to say, we noticed only a slight upturn—one which scarcely reflected the change in interest rates. Do you follow me?"
"With incredible clarity." Korvin peKorvin sat stiffly behind his desk, waiting. His nerves were tense, but he tried to maintain an outward appearance of calm. He had a fairly good idea of what was coming. He wondered how he was going to get out of it.
The priest frowned at him severely. "Without any prejudice against you or your bank, Korvin peKorvin, we decided to send an investigator to Lidacor to confer with the Uncle of Public Records there and ... ah ... examine your books. Our investigator returned to Gelusar last week in great confusion."
"Oh?"
"It seemed that the books you had on deposit at the Uncle of Public Records made no sense," the priest said crisply. "They were fine-looking books, neatly written, well bound. But when one added the columns, made totals, performed subtractions"—the priest wrinkled his forehead—"there were, shall we say, inconsistencies?"
Korvin peKorvin said, "Do go on."
"The investigator's report was so confused that the Elder Ghevin chose someone higher in his retinue to conduct further investigation. Me. I spent this morning with the Uncle of Public Records, going over the books you've placed on file with him." He shook his head pityingly. "Those are very eccentric books, Korvin peKorvin."
"Are you suggesting that there have been irregularities in my—"
"I suggest nothing. I merely want explanation."
Korvin peKorvin felt sudden dizziness. "On such short notice, I'm afraid—"
"Of course. I didn't expect you to reply immediately," Drelk peShawm said. "I'll give you a night to prepare your statement. I'll return tomorrow." The coldness of his eyes left little doubt that he was looking forward to the next day's interview with sadistic glee.