“Unless what?” asked Roo.
“Unless the association that might bring a claim in the King’s Court was already out of business and suffering suit for its own failure to meet contracts.”
Roo said, “Now I know someone is trying to ruin us.” He was silent a moment. “Do we have grounds to refuse the wheat for poor quality?”
Masterson said, “We don’t. We can refuse the contract delivery only if the grain is rotten or otherwise damaged. Why?”
“Because they’re paying the lowest prices, so they are going to be bringing in the cheapest grain out there.” Roo pointed at his three partners. “Who’s offering these contracts?”
“Various groups,” answered Crowley.
“Who’s behind them?”
Masterson’s eyes focused on the pile of notes as if trying to discern a pattern. After a moment he said, “Jacob.”
Roo felt his chest constrict in panic. “Estherbrook?”
Hume and Crowley said, “Why would he meddle in this?” Roo said, “My fault, I fear. He might find things more convenient down the road if I were reduced to poverty quickly. Your ruination would be only an unfortunate consequence, nothing personal, I’m certain.”
“What do we do?” asked Crowley.
“Well, we can’t be buying wheat that even the most venal millers won’t buy.” Roo considered things for a few minutes in silence, then suddenly he said, “I have it!”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you when Duncan returns. Until then, do nothing, buy nothing.”
Roo rose and left, determined to sniff out some information on his own. Near sundown he discovered Duncan in an inn, in a corner, sitting quietly at a table with two oddly dressed men, mercenaries by their arms and armor. Duncan waved him over.
“Roo, these friends of mine have an interesting story.” Roo noticed that several tankards of ale had been consumed but that Duncan was as sober as the day he was born, and his ale was hardly touched.
Roo sat and introductions were made. The two mercenaries told Roo how they had been hired to guard a fast post rider who carried a message from the city of Shamata to a trader in Krondor regarding the purchase of a huge shipment of grain from down in Kesh. When he was finished, Roo rose. He threw a small pouch of gold on the table and said, “Gentlemen, pay for your room, drinks, and dinner on me. Duncan, come along.”
He hurried back to Barret’s and found his three partners almost alone in the upper gallery. He sat down and told them, “Someone is bringing a huge shipment of poor-quality grain to Krondor.”
“Are you certain?”
Crowley repeated his question of earlier that day. “Why buy grain you can’t sell?”
Roo said, “Someone knows we’re writing contracts on options. Someone also knows that we must either pay the full price or forfeit the option price. So they bring grain into the city, enough to meet the contract demand, that we refuse to buy. They keep the contract money and dump the grain.”
“But they’ll lose money!” said Crowley.
“Not that much. But more than offset by the contract price. And if their purpose is to break us, not make a profit, they won’t care if they lose a small amount.”
Hume said, “That’s predatory.”
“Very predatory,” said Masterson, “and brilliant.”
“What do we do?” asked Hume.
Roo said, “Gentlemen, I have been a soldier, and now it’s time to test your resolve. Either we can stop buying, and count what we’ve contracted for so far as a loss, or we can seek to turn this to our advantage. But it will take more gold than we have so far pledged to make this work for us.”
“What do you propose?” said Masterson.
“We stop taking contracts. From this moment on, we say no and our counteroffers must be a margin of what is being offered—so low that no one will take our offers, but enough to let them know we are still in business.”
“Why?” said Crowley.
“Because each day a huge shipment of grain, sixty wagons being provided by Jacoby and Sons, is working its way to Krondor.” He glanced at one of the offer sheets still on the table. “To be delivered at the docks in forty-nine days. Each day that passes, each day that goes without the buyer of that wheat having someone to sell it to, his concern will rise, for if that grain reaches Krondor before all of it is optioned, then that seller will have to dump it in the harbor. Eventually he will sell at our price, assuming that he will still break us.”
“How do we counter this?” said Hume.
“We buy every contract in Krondor, gentlemen. If by the time the wheat reaches the city we own every kernel of wheat between here and Ylith, then we can ship the high-quality grain to the Free Cities and the Far Coast, recoup our investment, and make our profit.”