Tesara ate with concentration and slowly, trying to savor it all. This was a skill that more merchants should have, she thought. It humbled her, but the food was balm to the sting. Mathilde knew exactly what they needed, and her food was redemption. They could hear her singing in the kitchen, as cheerful as a wren.
This is magic, she thought. It was wonderful.
“Listen to this,” Father announced, and she braced herself. He had taken to reading out loud bits and bobs of news as he came across it.
“‘In a five-four judgment, the Guild High Court has ruled in favor of House Mederos’,” Brevart read. “‘The House has cleared all of its fiduciary, civil, and criminal obligations and all injured parties have been made whole. Justice has been served, saith the Guild in its wisdom; lesser mortals take a more jaundiced view. “In my opinion, they have gotten off far too easily,” said one peeved gentleman. “They’re bound to turn to their old tricks, as soon as they think they can get away with it.”’”
They all sat, for a moment. After six long years, they were finally – free? Tesara discounted it. No, they would never be free. It was only one less burden upon the family. It’s up to us, she thought, to remake our own fortunes, if we can.
Then, Alinesse broke the silence, the bitterness evident in her brittle laugh. “Hardly needed to keep him anonymous; we all know who he is.”
“You don’t know for sure,” Uncle Samwell protested, but his voice was weak.
“Don’t be a fool, Sam,” she said. “If you can’t tell that it was your old friend, Parr, I don’t know what to say.”
Uncle Samwell muttered something and ducked his head. There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Brevart rattled the newspaper and began reading again.
“‘With the ruling, House Mederos is once again free to conduct trade according to all Guild and city laws. However, under new bylaws established under Guildmaster Trune, any new ventures undertaken by House Mederos will have to be approved by the Guild before the Bank of Port Saint Frey could extend credit and financing.’”
There was another silence. Even I know what that means, Tesara thought. Free to make money – but without credit, there would be no seed money, and without seed money – no business. In other words, their punishment continued. She wondered if Trune established the bylaws expressly for them.
In a more subdued voice, Brevart read out the less important news, that of the notices of ships and cargo from the column Dockside Doings, by the mysterious Junipre. Junipre was widely understood to be the nom de plume of Treacher, and Tesara waited for the observation that she knew would come next.
“Everyone knows it’s Treacher himself,” Uncle Samwell said, hasty to change the subject. “Don’t know why he doesn’t just come out and say it.”
“Authors don’t like to be called out,” Brevart said. “They like to be able to say what they want without censure.” He grunted. “Here’s a new one, from a fellow calling himself Arabestus. Haven’t heard of him before.”
“Arabestus!” Alinesse repeated, striving for a devil-may-care tone. “Oh, now that’s too rich, taking as a nom de plume the famous ghost ship of Port Saint Frey.” She dabbed her lips. “What on earth does he say?”
With a chuckle in his voice, Brevart began to read out loud. The amusement was quickly replaced with concern – and fear.
“‘If the Guild of Port Saint Frey were a ship, the magistrates would be her helmsman, the laws her compass, and the sails the industry and wisdom of the merchants who give her purpose and meaning. This ship traverses the seas and is respected and no little feared by the countries in which she docks, unloads her cargo of goods material and immanent, and is an ambassador of the ideals of governance and fair dealings. How many countries of savage nature, who live by the law of buyer and seller beware, these wildernesses of rapacity, have been tamed by the influence of Guild ships and Guild laws? Ah, they say, we see where we have erred. Men can profit where they do not ravage, and all can benefit from commerce.
“‘But! In contracting with these nations and these merchants, the influence has all been the other way. A sickness has crept aboard this vessel, a sickness that has caused the hand to weaken on the wheel, and to slacken the lines, and to neglect the care and keeping of the Guild itself. For when laws are applied inconsistently, or capriciously, or maliciously, they do not hold up the Guild but let it rot from within. And thus, it is with the charges against that House that has never before been anything other but a vital, growing, strong, businesslike arm of the Guild and one of its best representatives. A scapegoat has been made of this House when all who partook in the tragic venture were at fault, and those who are behind the charges are hiding in plain sight, behind a veil of respectability.
“‘Where is Guild justice now? It cannot be believed that the Guild will not turn her eye on all who colluded and cry to them, “For shame! You have erred, and you must pay.” –Arabestus.’”
Brevart finished. The family sat in silence, their porridge cooling. “Brevart?” Alinesse said, staring at her husband.
“It wasn’t me,” Brevart managed.
Samwell shrugged. “Nor me,” he said. “Someone is playing tricks.”
“A trick that could well backfire on us,” Brevart said heavily. “Do you think they’ll lay it at our feet?”
“We’ve just gotten our judgment,” Alinesse cried. Tesara started; her mother sounded on the verge of tears. “Why now, after six years, why now?”
“It’s
