merchant was king.
Perhaps it was something else that stirred within him — ambition. As a youth, before the army and before Asea, he had sometimes dreamed of coming here and making his fortune. Death was easy to find on the streets of Harven they said, but so was gold. In another life, this place might have been his home and his testing ground. Koralyn, his first master, the man who had taught him thievery, had come from here or so he sometimes claimed, and his stories of the place had excited Rik.
He sniffed the air. It stank of money and life and something else; fish, tons of it, brought in by the hundreds of small fishing boats who trawled the Sea of Dragons, and who followed the cod far out into the Western Ocean.
He smelled bubbling fat and a sickly sweet perfume coming from a great ship that held its distance out in the harbour. Seeing the direction of his gaze Asea said; “Whaler — they hunt the great fishes and wyrms of the sea for blubber and ambergris and whalebone and other things.”
There were other ships, vast prison hulks floating half-submerged in the waters. These had featured in many of the more horrific tales he had read as a boy, with unjustly imprisoned men watching the sea roll in through the stoved-in side of the hulk, unable to escape because of the weight of the chains that bound them. Those had been particularly vivid images that the Old Witch had, for some reason, delighted to read aloud.
Ships from dozens of nations filled the harbour. Fat merchantmen from the Isles of Greed; great ocean- going galleons from the far colonies of the Lost Continent; low sleek ships of an alien design from the Midworld Sea. Enormous wyrms moved between them, towing them, bearing cargoes loaded on howdahs. Some carried important visitors. He could not recognise more than half a dozen of the hundred flags he saw here. But he resolved that given time he would. The cold winter wind cut at his cheeks like a knife. Unease, fatigue and excitement warred within his soul, clashing their swords, making his heart beat faster with their bugles.
The Barbarian bellowed and then pointed to the docks. Women and painted boys lolled amid longshoremen heaving exotic cargoes onto carts bound for the massive warehouses close by. Rik eyed those enormous structures with the calculating gaze of the professional thief. Within them lay the ransom of kings — everything from wines and whiskeys and furs, to spices and tobacco and chests of silver and gold. Those fat, fur-robed figures must be the owners and masters of such places, for he had read that, according to the sumptuary laws of Harven, only merchants and Terrarchs could wear fur.
As the ship came closer to the docks, he began to appreciate the true massiveness of those buildings. They were huge, greater by far than anything he had seen in Sorrow. It seemed like they could hold all of the world’s wealth, a significant proportion of which poured through this bustling city. He could hear voices now, the shouts of hawkers and gang-foremen, the calls of the whores, the bellowing laughter of a great fat merchant. The stench of frying food and fish, always fish, smacked his nostrils.
The soldiers looked at each other and smiled in anticipation. Most of them still had some money in their pocket from the looting of Halim, and they were going to spend it here. Sardec moved along the deck, shouting orders, trying to assert some form of discipline. Sergeant Hef and Corporal Toby assisted him. Slowly, a bit at a time, the Foragers made ready to come ashore.
The Barbarian rubbed his huge hands in glee. He had noticed some women from his frozen homeland, standing on the dockside. A Terrarch surrounded by half a dozen soldiers waited for them. Several carriages with the dragon banner of Talorea painted on them stood nearby.
“That will be Ambassador Valefor,” said Asea. “I see he got Lord Azaar’s message.”
The Talorean Embassy sat high on a hill overlooking the sea. It was a huge place, almost a palace, built around a central square. A whole wing had been prepared for Asea and her bodyguard, and as ever they spent the first few hours there setting wards, and sentry patrols. Sardec was weary enough when he finished the process of making sure all the major entrances were guarded and all the windows sealed shut.
He joined Asea, her half-breed lover and the Ambassador in one of the embassy’s many reception chambers. A fire burned in the hearth. Paintings of sea and ships and the city of Harven looked down on them from the walls. Quiet servants brought trays containing the brandy for which the city was famous.
Ambassador Valefor was short for a Terrarch. He dressed splendidly in a fur-trimmed robe. His hair and short beard were well barbered. His eyes were watchful. His tongue well-guarded. He was Sardec’s distant kinsman on his mother’s side but he could see that the Ambassador did not expect to be pressed for favours on that account.
After they had all sipped the brandy, and sampled the tiny flakes of salted fish on thick coarse bread, a local delicacy, the Ambassador spoke to Asea. “I am delighted you could come. The Council will be delighted.”
Sardec listened to the well-layered flattery and took another slight sip of the brandy to hide his distaste. The flavour of cherries was in it, and the warmth of the summer sun.
“I am pleased that you are taking that attitude,” replied Asea, just as smoothly. “I also appreciate the dossiers you have prepared for me. I am hoping that you will be able to provide me with a precis of what is going on here. Your own impressions and the general feeling of the time that doubtless your agents have provided you with.”
She was doubtless only double-checking. Asea would have her own network of agents in place. She had the time and the money and intelligence was more important to the old Terrarch houses than gold.
“There is a not a great deal I can tell you that is not already in the reports, but I will do my best. I must say that in all my years here in Harven I have never known the city to be so a-buzz.”
“In what way?”
“The war has everybody stirred up, Milady. All the Merchant Princes sense great profits to be made, and all of them want their share. More than that. all of them want to be on the winning side — and who can blame them?”
It occurred to Sardec that Valefor had perhaps been in the city too long. He sounded a little too mercantile himself for the Lieutenant’s liking.
If Asea shared his qualms she gave no sign. “I have little doubt that they will make a profit supplying both sides and keeping the gates of trade between the Realm and the Empire open as they always do.”
“Wealth flows no matter what,” said Valefor, quoting an old Harvenian proverb. “This is the first war between the Great Powers in over a century. People are apprehensive. There are stories that even the Quan are.”
“Who says this?”
“Everyone, Milady. The truth is that they have been far more active recently than they normally are. They watch every ship that arrives. Hundreds come and go in Temple. Many, many thralls and slaves have been bought for…negotiating purposes.”
“The Council still continues with its abominable practises then,” said Asea.
“It is the price of the Sea Mother’s protection, Milady. They would pay it a thousand times over if they had to.”
“In truth, I do not doubt that we would do the same.” Once Asea’s words would have shocked Sardec. To treat in the flesh and souls of humans would have seemed to him the height of dishonour. Now he knew that his ideas would be considered naive by older and wiser heads. There was not a single high-ranking advisor to the Queen who would not cheerfully pay any price the Sea Devils asked if they could gain their alliance. A horrible thought occurred to him. Was that why Asea was here?
“Any word on Lord Malkior?” Asea asked.
“He is here, Milady, and I think you will meet him soon. He is a favourite at the Chambers of the Council and in the palaces of the wealthy. He will be at the reception that the Council will hold to mark your arrival, I am sure.”
“And what does he do here, Lord Valefor?”
“He offers bribes and concessions to the great. He dangles offers of contracts and exclusive trading rights before the Councilmen as an angler dangles bait. He flatters the men and compliments the women.”
“In short he is the same as he ever was.”
“You know him as well as I, Milady. I concur with your opinion.”
“Are there those he seems to particularly favour?”
“Councillors Rengalt, Malarius and Draaven all appear to be his close personal friends, but that might well
