Rise of a Merchant Prince

Roo said, “What part do I play?”

 

 

James said, “I could tax you until you bleed to finance this war, but even if I sent out the army to grab every coin from the Teeth of the World to Kesh, from the Sunset Islands to Roldem, it wouldn’t be enough.” James again leaned over and spoke softly, as if he feared someone might be listening. “But in that two or three years, with the proper help, you might be able to finance that war.”

 

Roo looked as if he didn’t understand. “M’lord?”

 

James said, “You need to make enough profit in the next two years so that you can loan the Crown what we’re going to need to finance this coming war.”

 

Roo let out a long breath. “Well, that’s unexpected. You want me to get rich beyond dreaming, so I can lend it to the Crown, to fight a war that we may not win.”

 

James said, “Essentially.”

 

“From what you said, I suspect the Crown may not be in a position to repay me in a timely fashion if we survive this coming ordeal.”

 

James said, “Consider the alternatives.”

 

Roo nodded. “There is that.” He rose. “Well, if I’m to become the richest man sitting atop the ash heap in three years, I’d better set about gathering more wealth. To do that, I need to pay off my creditors by sundown.”

 

“There is one other thing,” said James.

 

“What, m’lord?”

 

“The matter with the Jacobys. There is the father.”

 

 

 

“Do I need fear more attacks?”

 

“Possibly,” said James. “The judicious thing to do would be go see him at once, before he learns that you killed his sons. Forge a peace, Rupert, because you need allies, not enemies, for the coming years, and I cannot help you in all things; even my reach has limits.”

 

Roo said, “After I settle with Frederick Jacoby, I’ll need to tell all this to my partners.”

 

“I suggest you buy them out,” said James. “Or at least gain control of the Bitter Sea Trading and Holding Company.” Then James grinned, and Roo could see both a reflection of the boy thief who had once run the streets of Krondor and the echo of his grandsons in his face. “You were planning on that eventually, anyway, weren’t you?”

 

Roo laughed. “Eventually.”

 

“Better sooner than later. If you need a small amount of gold to accomplish that, the Crown can lend it to you; we’re certainly going to take that back and a great deal more besides.”

 

Roo said he would let the Duke know, and he departed. As he left the palace he considered how his fate was once again linked to that of the Crown, and how no matter how he tried, he could not free himself of the fate dictated for him the moment he and Erik had killed Stefan.

 

As he reached the gate, he realized he had neither horse nor carriage waiting for him. Then he decided the walk to the office would help set his mind to what he would need to say to Frederick Jacoby when he told him his sons were dead.

 

Erik directed the scouts to check the gallery ahead. They had been hearing faint sounds for nearly ten minutes, but the origin of them was unclear. There were side passages and galleries in profusion, and noises echoed in strange and disorienting fashion.

 

A few minutes later they returned. “It’s filled with lizards,” whispered one of the scouts. Erik signaled the man to follow him to where Calis and the others waited and the man quickly diagramed how the gallery was laid out.

 

It was an almost perfect half circle, with a long ramp down from the entrance, running to the right, and a flat ridge running to the left. The swordsmen would charge down the ramp, while the archers would follow, deploying to the left, to rain arrows down upon the serpents.

 

Calis gave orders, and Erik and de Loungville relayed them. Erik heard Calis tell Boldar to stay with Miranda and guard her, then Calis was moving past, insisting on taking the lead personally.

 

As was the case before, each man did exactly as he was bidden to do, without hesitation or confusion, but once into the gallery, the battle was joined. And as Erik had learned firsthand, and had read in every book William had given him to read, once the battle was joined, plans were so much chaff on the wind.

 

These Pantathians were full-sized adults, half again as big as those young warriors they had fought earlier in the day. The tallest measured just short of Erik’s chin, and their best warrior was no match for Calis’s meanest, but they had numbers on their side.

 

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