can't harm me right now, with all the shieldings awake around me. You can't hurt me on my way out of Waterdeep from your quaint old mansion because of my magic and all of my guards-not just the ones you see waiting outside your gates, but others who have magic of their own. Even with the influence you shamelessly use by pretending to be a Lord of Waterdeep, you can't seize any city properties from me, because I haven't any! I don't scare, I can't be bluffed, and I don't care. Old Wolf, you're toothless! When all Athkatla, and Water-deep, too, hears of this, it won't be you they'll be cheering or me they'll be laughing at! Do you have any idea how many men have been itching for decades to see old Mirt the Moneylender get his comeuppance? Why, I'll ride into Athkatla a hero!'
The old man behind the desk raised one wintry eyebrow. 'Paraster Montheir, importer of sweet wines from Lapaliiya, our hero? Nay, I can't see that on banners fluttering above the Coinheap of Amn.'
He stretched, showed his waistcoat some mercy by letting go of it, and continued, 'Lad, lad, we both know ye haven't been unburdened of properties at all! Ye've established three new trading companies whose sole staff are servants already in the pay of one Paraster Montheir, and 'sold' no less than three tall-houses-with tenant shops, mind-six warehouses, and two villas (the which ye no doubt hope I know nothing at all about) to these new-minted companies. The coins all three reap flow right back into a purse emblazoned with the name of 'Paraster Montheir.' Have ye forgotten that the bankers in Water-deep are-ahem-moneylenders? Think ye we never talk to each other? I suppose ye also think the tides come not in and the sun may decide not to rise every morn? The rules of our profession are clear: Debts must be repaid in full and on time, arrears attract Palace-set rates of interest, and deliberate or hostile debtors may be flogged by the creditor, who may choose to accept double the interest owing to refrain from cracking a whip over the miscreant who owes him, or not, or seize goods in lieu-purely as he chooses!'
Paraster lifted a hand that glittered with many gem-studded rings, waved it dismissively, and said coolly, 'Spit and snarl all you like, Mirt. Three facts remain unchanged for all your blustering: I've torn up my copy of our agreement, you won't dare show yours to any court or guild here or in Athkatla because the last thing you want is for me to tell any city officials what shady and outright illicit activities you've been up to that the bond directly supports and turns upon, and I'm not afraid of the private, outside-the-law muscle you can command.'
At that moment the Old Wolf's young strumpet in black leathers hastened into the office through a curtained archway that Montheir had thought led only to an alcove. Had the doxy been listening to all of this? Well, silencing her would prove but a trifling trouble and hurt the old moneylender even more keenly! She knelt before the desk, head bowed.
'Speak, lass,' the Old Wolf murmured casually,' then depart in all haste. Important trade matters are being discussed.'
Asper looked up and gasped timidly, 'If it pleases my Lord to know, the Lady Mage of Waterdeep has arrived.' Her left eyelid-the one on the far side from Montheir's devouring gaze-dropped just a trifle, in a wink that let Mirt know that Laeral had been with her in the alcove, listening to all of the Athkatlan's words.
Neither she nor Mirt turned their heads so much as an inch in the wine importer's direction, but they both knew how much he'd suddenly stiffened and gone pale at the mention of Laeral and the sudden thought that she just might be Mirt's outside-the-law muscle.
Mirt stared stonily back at her and snapped, 'She may approach-on her knees, mind, and begging for mercy.'
'Yes, Lord,' Asper breathed, bowing her head hastily. 'I shall impart your will to her.'
She kissed the rug before his boots and backed away from him on her knees, clear across the room to the archway and through its curtain. Once safely unseen by visiting Athkat-lan swindlers, she rose with the suppleness of a snake and a wide grin on her face to find Laeral stifling a giggle.
The Lady Mage of Waterdeep gave her a quick, wordless hug and dropped to her own knees. Pinching the inside of her nose high up with two long-nailed fingers so that tears of pain came to her eyes, she let them run artistically down her cheeks, dropped a look of despair across her face, and commenced her own long crawl through the curtain and across the gigantic snowcat-fur rug.
'Mercy, Lord Mirt,' she whimpered, lifting her tearstained face at about the halfway-point of her journey. 'Please! You must give me more time to pay, I beg of you! Khelben sends word that he, too, will come to you on his knees if that is your wish and that you must understand that he wants me to do everything I can to please you! Everything!'
Paraster Montheir stared open-mouthed at the most powerful woman in Waterdeep crawling along on the furs with her tear-glistening face raised pleadingly to the moneylender, but Mirt barely glanced at her.
'Aye, aye,' he growled, 'Khelben knows my weakness for pretty lasses. Tell him-after I've finished with ye- that he seeks to buy my patience but succeeds only in trying it. Now, plead as if ye really meant it! Grind thyself into my floor, kiss my boots, and keep on kissing them until I give ye leave to cease!'
'Oh, most gracious of men, flower of mercy,' Laeral wept, 'your kindness warms me! I'm unworthy to kiss your boots and the feet within them, but please allow me to do so! Command me as your slave! Oh, Mirt, all Water-deep lives and breathes because of your deeds and coins and wisdom, and I'm so ashamed at my failure to repay in time! Just a few days more, perhaps a tenday, and-'
'Start licking,' Mirt growled, watching the grandly clad woman snaking her way forward. Hurriedly Laeral threw herself across the remaining expanse of furs to the toes of his worn, flopping seaboots and lavished kisses upon them, her shapely behind in the air.
All the color had gone out of Paraster Montheir's face, leaving it the color of an old, dirty seal tusk. Mirt looked up at him and then back at the woman at his feet, frowned thoughtfully, and grunted, 'Well, now, perhaps there is a way ye and Khelben could hurl magics to aid me in a little matter. Keep licking, wench! I gave ye no command to stop, did I?'
'Mirt,' the Athkatlan wine-merchant stammered hastily, 'I've changed my mind. You'll have your money in full later in the day, plus double interest for the tenday arrears. I'll send it to you here, in the hands of my banker's trusties, forthwith! Ah-'
The old moneylender rose, no trace of a grin on his face, and snapped, 'Be still and speak not' to the Lady Mage at his feet. He pointed at Montheir and growled, 'I accept, in gold coins of a minting, weight, and condition as would be accepted by a guildmaster of this city. Wait to send the coin-carriers until sundown.'
He took something that had been hanging on the quillons of a scabbarded sword low on the wall behind his desk into his hand, and Montheir saw that it was a whip. Mirt lashed the palm of his own hand thoughtfully, looked down at the backside of the silently kneeling Lady Mage, then lifted his gaze to the Athkatlan again and added, 'Ye see, I'll probably be busy until then.'
Paraster Montheir swallowed, nodded hastily, and was still nodding with a sickly grin coming and going on his face when Mirt barked, 'Asper! To me! Hasten, no need to crawl!' The lithe, leather-clad lass raced into view through the archway and came to a halt with hands at her sides, as alert and straight-backed-rigid as any Palace guard standing to attention.
'Conduct our valued friend Master Montheir to the gates with all courtesy,' Mirt commanded her.
'At once, my Lord!' she breathed and made her turn toward the Athkatlan merchant almost a leap of eagerness. 'This way, honored merchant,' she urged, indicating the door with a flourish as if he'd never seen it before, bowing low, then leaping to open it for him.
Swallowing again, Paraster Montheir nodded hastily to Mirt, turned, and waved at Asper to precede him.
She bowed to him again and did so, slowing to offer him her arm on the broad rough-slab stairs that descended into the forehall past rows of figureheads and bowsprit filigrees salvaged from wrecks in the dangerous coastal seas just north of Waterdeep.
At about the sixth step down, Asper murmured, 'If you’ll allow me to say this, Master Montheir, you are a very brave man.'
The Athkatlan looked at her sharply, seeking any hint of sarcasm or perhaps pleading or admiration, but her eyes were downcast and her face unreadable.
Paraster made no immediate reply, but when they reached the bottom of the stair and a sharp singing in the air around him announced the passage of his shielding magics out through a stronger, invisible enchantment, he murmured in a low voice, 'He won't really whip the Lady Mage of Waterdeep, will he?'
'Oh, yes,' Asper replied, slowing and turning to look at him with eyes that were large and grave. 'In fact, Khelben insists on it.'
