“There’s no need for that, really,” said Bertragh. “We are all friends here.”
“Sometimes misunderstandings happen, even between friends,” said Rik. “Sometimes they can be fatal, and we are trying to avoid that.”
“A laudable ambition but quite unnecessary in this case.”
Weasel and the Barbarian gave the bodyguards a thorough search and then backed away. They carried a fair number of small pistols suitable for concealment, as well as larger ones, and two blades. Rik sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. He gestured for Bertragh to take the seat in front.
“Now we can do business,” he said. “You have the gold?”
Bertragh reached inside his jacket. Instantly Weasel and the Barbarian were ready, pistols levelled.
“Carefully,” said Rik. He toyed with the pistol on the table-top. Almost accidentally it pointed at Bertragh. “We want no misunderstandings now.”
“Quite,” said the factor. “I am now going to take off my money belt. Please try not to shoot me while I am doing it.”
Rik found himself almost admiring the little man’s calmness and good humour. Clearly he was no stranger to high stakes negotiation. Bertragh hitched a broad canvas belt above the level of his britches, untied the drawstrings and let it fall onto the table with a heavy thunk. He opened it and a number of gold coins fell out. A large number. Rik picked one up weighed it in his hand. It felt like gold. It looked like gold. He scratched it with his knife. If it was gold plated the plating went deep.
“Those are gold regals,” said Bertragh. “You have my word on it.”
Rik believed him. He had held regals before and this was what they looked and felt like. They would pass with any merchant in the land. Of course, people would start asking questions if common soldiers started spending them. Rik mentioned this.
“I am sure your friend there,” Bertragh indicated Weasel with a jerk of his thumb, “can get some of his friends downstairs to change them.”
Weasel gave an almost imperceptible nod. Rik was not sure he wanted the coins changed just yet. They were a lot more portable the way they were.
“These are the books?” Bertragh asked. Rik nodded.
“Please, allow me to inspect them.”
“Be my guest.”
Sardec strode into the main ballroom. The footman boomed out his name and title. He stood for a minute to make sure everyone got a good sighting of him and then strode down into the guests.
Asea wore the garb of a Cobalt Mountain Witch. Her robes were long and intricate and intermingled with long chains of plaited gold at the end of which were small tinkling bells. Her mask was a mere domino, held onto her face by either paste or magic. Long gauntlets ending in raking claws covered her hands. It was an effective and striking ensemble. He bowed in response to her curtsey of welcome.
“I am hoping I may inveigle you into dancing me, Lady of the Mountains,” he told Asea.
“I am sure you can, heroic warrior,” she responded. “Come ask my favour when the orchestra starts.”
Sardec felt more than a hint of satisfaction. He would get the first dance. “You do not know how happy you have made me, Lady,” he said, and with another small bow strode off to join his fellow officers in the main hall.
Jazeray watched him with something like a sneer, although Sardec could sense his envy and his pique. It seemed he, too, had set his sights high.
“You look a little distraught,” he said.
“It is nothing,” said Jazeray. “The merest bagatelle, the slightest of setbacks. It shall soon pass.”
As a group they headed into the swirling mass. The orchestra took its seats on the dais at the end of the hall.
The factor picked up the book, scanned it, and put it down after a few minutes of careful observation. He appeared to be checking for missing pages, removed leaves, damage of any sort. He repeated the process with all the books in turn, until after a full hour, he was apparently satisfied. Occasionally, the men outside made enquiries after his well-being, and he reassured them. At the end of the time, his eyes were lit by an even more feverish light than before.
“I am satisfied, gentleman. We have a bargain.”
Rik counted the coins. There were sixty of them in all.
“One question,” said Rik. Bertragh stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“Yes?”
“How did you know exactly how much money to bring?” The factor relaxed visibly, clearly he had been expecting either some objection or something far more difficult.
“The books are part of a set. I knew how many there would be if there was a full set.”
Rik shrugged. “Thank you.”
Bertragh reached forward with one hand. “We have a deal?”
Rik clasped it. It was cool and dry, skin like parchment. Briefly he considered squeezing the fingers very hard and attacking the man but that would have been madness. He let his grip loosen. “We have a deal.”
The merchant began to put the volumes into the leather satchel. They fitted almost exactly. Clearly, Rik thought, the man knew almost exactly what he was getting. It was an impressive display.
“You can go now,” said Rik. “We’ll keep your friends here for a little while and then let them go.”
The two bruisers began to object but quietened when they found loaded pistols pointed at them. Bertragh smiled at them reassuringly. “It’s all right, Leopole. The rest of the lads will take care of me, and I am sure our friends here mean you no harm. If I guess aright, it is their own safety they are concerned with.”
Rik nodded and opened the door. “Well, goodbye then, gentlemen,” said Bertragh. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you.”
A moment later, he was gone, leaving Rik with a curious feeling of anti-climax. That vanished when he saw the way Leopole and his partner looked at them. There was violence in his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Weasel looked at Rik and the Barbarian and smiled. “That went better than I expected,” he said. Despite Rik’s misgivings they had let the bodyguards have their weapons back and depart ten minutes ago and nothing untoward had happened since. Rik was just starting to relax. Weasel and the Barbarian finished counting their share of the coins.
“There’s a bunch of very hard men out there who know we have a lot of money,” said Rik. “I would not be at all surprised if they came looking for it.”
“Me neither, Halfbreed” said Weasel. His smile was disingenuous. “There’s so much treachery in the world.”
“Sad, isn’t it?” said Rik.
“But we’re rich,” said the Barbarian.
“For the moment,” said Rik, but he could not help smiling too.
“Best get our costumes on and get out of here then.” They donned the costumes and in a few minutes three men in papier mache dragon masks and vast red cloaks left the room.
Rik made sure his special pack was beneath his robe.
The Governor himself led the dancing. Sardec swirled around in the great figure of the quadrille with Asea in his arms. Her scent was as intoxicating as her beauty and he guessed it contained some subtle narcotic. He felt like saying this but he restrained himself. He was wary of using cliches.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I understand that you wish to go into the mountains.”
“I see you have talked with Colonel Xeno.”
“So have you it appears.” She cocked her head to one side as she looked down on him. He felt she was judging him and he did not like that feeling.
“And to think I asked for you especially…” Was that mockery in her voice? He found that he disliked her intensely at that moment. She was too beautiful, too poised, too self-satisfied. The glitter in her eyes told him that she was reading him like a book.
“Why, Lady?”
“For the charm of your company, of course, and because you know where to find this mysterious mine.”