“We might claim a value of ninety golds,” mused the trader.
“The reserve would be nine, and the cartage ten. Without cargo assurance.”
“As always, you will break me, but what can a small trader do?”
Rahl could sense that the trader wanted to haggle and bargain, but it was clear that the rates were fixed.
“As you may recall,” said Daelyt, “the reserve is due when the consignment order is signed, and the cartage before any cargo can be manifested and loaded.”
“Alas, has it not always been so?” Forisyt shrugged expressively. “I will be back on sixday with the reserve.”
“The consignment order will be ready, honored trader.”
Forisyt smiled wanly, then grinned, before turning and departing.
After the trader had left, Rahl glanced at the older clerk. “Could I look at that schedule? Or should I make a copy for myself?”
“A copy for you would be a good idea-after we deal with the consignment agreement. Have you ever done any of those?”
“I’ve seen them and had them explained, but I’ve never done one,” Rahl replied.
“All right. I’ve got the rough form here. I’ll tell you what to enter and why. Then you can make two copies. We need three, one for the trader, one for the ship, and one for us.”
“Why don’t they use their own ships?”
“Traders like Forisyt only have small cargoes. He doesn’t own a vessel, and the Hamorian traders charge more per stone the smaller the cargo is. If they don’t have a Hamorian shipper, they’ll always try to get on one of our vessels, because we lose almost nothing to piracy, and less than most others to storms. That means less risk to them, or lower indemnity payments if they wish to pay for cargo assurance.”
Rahl had never even heard of cargo assurance. “How does cargo assurance work?”
“We’ll get to that after we do the consignment forms.” Daelyt handed a form to Rahl. “It’s all in Hamorian. First, you fill in the ship and master.” He handed the sheets he had used earlier to Rahl. “Look for Legacy of the Founders…”
As he proceeded in following the other clerk’s directions, Rahl was again bemused and amazed at the amount of paper required by trading.
He had barely begun when Director Shyret appeared from behind them, suggesting that he had entered through the rear storeroom door. Shyret was cheerful and smiling.
“Good morning to all, and it is a good morning, if a trifle warmish.” The director spoke in Hamorian, clearly, but with an accent. “Have we had any business yet this morning?”
“Trader Forisyt has requested a hundred stones on the Founders,” replied Daelyt. “The declarations for the Diev are on your desk, and Rahl will need a key if you don’t want him using the windows to get in and out.”
“Ah, yes, a key. We do have spares, since we had to change the locks after Wynreed’s disappearance. Terribly discommoding, that.” He nodded to Daelyt. “If you’d accompany me, I’ll take care of the key.”
While Daelyt followed the director, Rahl sat at the long desk, thinking. He spoke Hamorian better than either the director or the head clerk, and that seemed strange, although he told himself that was just because of his order-skills, and not because of anything else.
Daelyt returned almost immediately and handed a heavy brass key to Rahl. “Here you are. Keep it safe. If you lose it, you pay for the new locks and keys.”
Rahl nodded as he slipped the key to the bottom of his belt wallet, a wallet he was now wearing inside his trousers rather than in plain view.
“Let’s try to finish those consignment forms before anyone else shows up. Now…the declared value won’t be what the shipper says, and that can mean trouble if he wants cargo assurance. If he does, tell him that, in the event that cargo assurance is paid, it will be limited to the declared value on the consignment sheet or the cargo declaration or ship’s manifest, whichever is the lowest figure…”
Rahl tried to concentrate on what Daelyt said, boring as it was already getting to be.
Once Daelyt guided Rahl though the form, he left the younger clerk to make the additional copies. When Rahl had finished the third copy of the consignment forms, he handed it to Daelyt, who had been working on another form that Rahl did not recognize. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” The older clerk smiled politely.
“You were going to tell me about cargo assurance.”
“Oh…the assurance is simple enough. Only one ship is lost out of every hundred voyages. It could be even less. So whoever wants to make sure he does not lose value pays five parts of a hundred of the cargo’s value.”
“But…” Rahl paused. “Is that because some don’t want assurance?”
“The Association must also maintain a reserve in the Exchange here in Swartheld in the event that a ship is lost.” Daelyt looked up as the outer door opened. “The tariff enumerators for the Diev declarations. Would you go tell the director they are here?”
Rahl eased off his stool and walked back to the archway and then to the open door into Shyret’s study. For a brief moment, he just looked. Unlike the front of the office, with its plain white-plaster walls and yellow-brick columns, the study had paneled walls, with deep green hangings that seemed heavy for Hamor. The wide table desk was supported by five fruitwood legs carved into a pattern of twined vines and small flowers. The corners of the four head-high file cases were carved in the same fashion, and a circular green rug with a beige border filled the center of the chamber. There were no windows, and the heavy oak door had sturdy iron hinges and twin locks.
“Director,” Rahl finally said, “the tariff enumerators are here.”
Shyret looked up from an open ledger. “I’ll be right there, Rahl.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl hurried back toward the front of the building, inclining his head to the two enumerators. They wore uniforms similar to the one patroller Rahl had seen on the pier, except the insignia on their collars and sleeves were not the sunburst, but a set of scales. “Honored enumerators, the director is coming.”
“Thank you.” The older enumerator chuckled, then turned to Daelyt. “So you managed to get an Atlan to work for you. I suppose that’s the best you outlanders can do. At least, he doesn’t mangle the language.”
“The director does what he can,” replied Daelyt, maintaining a polite smile, although Rahl could sense amusement.
“Greetings!” Shyret’s voice was cheerful and hearty as he walked up to the two Hamorian officials and extended the single copy of the amended and final cargo declarations of the Legacy of Diev.
“And to you,” replied the older enumerator.
“You will find all is as it should be,” offered Shyret.
“It always is, for which you should be thankful, Ser Director.” With a smile, the older enumerator inclined his head slightly, then turned.
The younger followed him out. Both tariff enumerators bore the faintest tinge of chaos, but less than did either Daelyt or Shyret.
Shyret’s smile vanished, and he turned and headed back to his study.
“You’d better start copying that schedule,” suggested Daelyt. “You can add a few more vessels to the end, for both of us. I haven’t had a chance to update it yet.”
Rahl reached for several sheets of blank paper.
XLIII
Rahl looked at the cheese-covered wedge that the cook had set before him. Finally, he looked up and called to Seorya, who had returned to frying something on the iron stove that radiated so much heat that the street outside under the midday summer sun felt cooler. “What is this?”
“Pepper flahyl. Thought you Atlans liked things hot.”
“I like them spicy, but not so hot that I cannot taste them,” Rahl countered.
“You don’t want to taste them.”
Rahl suspected she might have a point. “Any flat bread?”
“Got a copper?”