“Don’t listen to her,” someone snarled. Emily turned to see an older man, carrying a bottle of beer in one hand. “I can’t get a decent price on iron because of that…that…”
He waved a hand at Vesperian’s portrait, beaming benevolently down on the assembled crowds. Emily gritted her teeth, unsure what to do. More and more people were turning towards them, some heckling and catcalling the older man while others seemed inclined to support him. And then two burly private guardsmen pushed their way through the crowd, grabbed the older man and marched him off to the entrance. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief as the crowd started to disperse, then followed the guards.
“Come on,” she hissed. “I want to talk to him.”
The guards pushed the older man out of the entrance, then stood there until he started to head down the street. Emily made her way past them, followed by Caleb and Frieda. The older man turned to look at her, his gaze flickering over her face without a hint of recognition, then started to look away.
“I need to ask you some questions,” she said. “Can we talk?”
“Maybe.” The man grunted and looked down at the bottle in his hand. “You’re too pretty to be a whore and too forward to be a wife. You must be a magician.”
His eyes landed on Caleb. “And you’re the general’s son. What do you want?”
“To talk,” Emily said. She glanced at Caleb. He didn’t look pleased, either at being recognized or the man’s comment to Emily. “Please.”
“Polite, too.” He walked over to a bench and sat down. “Anything for the general’s son.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said, tartly. “And you are?”
“Jack,” the man said. “I was a soldier, once upon a time. Your father was my commander. He actually knew what he was doing, unlike the weak-chinned blue blood they landed us with afterwards.”
Emily cleared her throat. “When you said you couldn’t get any iron,” she asked, “what did you mean?”
“I meant I couldn’t get any iron,” Jack said. “Or wood. You can’t get the wood, you know.”
He snorted, rudely. “The army performed a remarkable spell and turned me into a blacksmith. I’ve been a blacksmith ever since. I used to make swords and horseshoes and everything else the troops needed. And then I came here and started my own business. Not that I ever got much money out of horseshoes!”
“No horses here,” Frieda said.
“Not many.” Jack agreed. He glared towards the station. “I found a wife, had a couple of little ones, things looked good. And then that man--” he spat “--started building his railway and soaking up all the iron. And just about everything else! Every blacksmith in the city is running out of iron because that man is driving prices up and up and up and up…”
He looked down at his bottle. “It’s happening everywhere,” he added, softly. “Fishermen can’t get the supplies they need because the railway is consuming everything. My customers are going away because I can’t give them what they want. And when I complained, they had the nerve to suggest that I should go work on the railway. That man destroyed my life, and they want me to work for him!”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, quietly.
“It wasn’t your fault, missy.” Jack jabbed a finger towards the station. “It’s that man’s fault!”
He laughed, bitterly. “They keep promising that the railway will take us to a land of milk and honey,” he added. “Where iron will be so cheap that everyone can have a suit of armor…hah! They’ve got one line. How are they going to finish it when they can’t get the iron to complete the next set? Or make those moving kettles? Or…”
Emily nodded. Jack had a point. If Vesperian was driving prices up – and he was, because all the sellers knew he needed their wares – what was it doing to everyone else? What other effects would it have?
Her blood ran cold as she considered the problem. What if most of the fishing boats were unable to fish? The city might run out of food.
They could go back to wooden boats, she mused. But if the price of wood is also being driven up…
“I can’t meet my obligations,” Jack said, breaking into her reverie. He shook his head. “I’ll be taking my family out of the city in a week or so, I think. Better to go to Cockatrice or Swanhaven than see my little girls turned into slaves. I’ll strip the forge bare, sell what I can and go.”
“My father would help,” Caleb said, awkwardly. “He…”
“Might feel obliged to report me instead,” Jack said. He laughed, humorlessly. “My wife came here to get away from some nobleman who was sniffing around her. Brute thought he was being all noble and such when he didn’t just force her into his bed. But now we’re going back in that direction. There’s a baroness in the castle now. At least she won’t be chasing my daughters.”
“No,” Emily agreed. Baron Holyoake had been beheaded, after taking part in the coup against King Randor. His lands had even been renamed when Emily had been ennobled, just to make sure that no trace of their former master remained. “She won’t.”
Jack looked at Caleb. “Tell your father to do something about that man, if he can. He’s going to drag a lot of others down with him.”
“I will,” Caleb promised. “And I won’t mention your name.”
“Very good,” Jack said. He laughed, again. “Maybe your father can do something. But I doubt it. That man is unstoppable.”
He jerked as another engine whistled loudly. “I have grown to hate that sound,” he growled, lifting his bottle to his lips and taking a swig. “I’m not the only one.”
“No,” Caleb agreed.
Jack rose. “They say that Justice is walking the streets. But he hasn’t punished the worst sinner of all.” He turned and strode off, rather unsteadily.
Emily watched him go, feeling cold. She’d assumed that the investors would be the only ones who lost out, if – when – the scheme collapsed, but it might be much worse. She made a mental note to visit Markus again and discuss it with him, although she wasn’t sure if he could do anything. They didn’t even know, not for sure, just how bad things really were.