And then most of the population will be unable to buy food, Emily thought, numbly. There’ll be food riots.
“You should ask the council to send out more fishing boats,” she said, instead. “That would keep the city going, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” General Pollack agreed. “But who will pay for the catch?”
He scowled, his moustache quivering unpleasantly. “A number of boats have not returned. Either they’re still fishing…or they’ve gone to other ports. There are plenty of places along the coastline where a fishing boat can sell its catch without anyone official paying much notice. Fishermen have to eat too.”
Emily shuddered. “They can eat,” she said, grimly. Were the fishermen being selfish – or practical? How long would the fishermen work if the council confiscated half their catch to feed the starving masses? “There must be something we can do.”
“Yes,” General Pollack said. “We can solve this problem as quickly as possible.”
He looked past her. “Good luck, Emily.”
Emily turned. Harman was walking towards her, followed by Harriman. The accountant bowed politely to her, then nodded to the door. Emily readied her magic, testing a series of protective spells before saying goodbye to General Pollack and his wife. She hoped, despite herself, that Markus and Caleb joined her soon. She had the feeling that neither of the older men were going to be useful.
“I’ll have my staff join us at the office,” Harman said.
“I’m sure they will be helpful,” Harriman said. “Perhaps we can organize the paperwork quickly enough to start making payments soon.”
Emily sighed, inwardly. She hoped Harriman was right.
But she had a feeling he was being optimistic.
Chapter Nineteen
EMILY HEARD THE CROWD LONG BEFORE it came into view, a baying mass of humanity jeering outside the offices. Vesperian had purchased – or rented – a large building near the railway station, one that would have given anyone an aura of respectability in better times. Now, she hoped that anyone in the nearby buildings would have vacated the premises when things got ugly. The angry mob might not stop with Vesperian’s offices when – if – it gave in to the urge to destroy.
“This way,” Harriman said.
He led the way towards the mob, holding his head high. Emily stared at his back, then hastily prepared a dozen more spells as she followed him. A line of guardsmen spotted them a moment later and advanced, driving back the mob to allow them to reach the gates and open the doors. A man stood in the lobby, unable to move. A guard sorcerer caught her eye and winked. He’d clearly frozen the man when he’d tried to enter.
“I thought it would be better to hold him until you arrived,” the sorcerer said. He was a young man, probably only two or three years older than Emily. “I didn’t want him trying to burn anything.”
“Good thinking,” Harriman said. “Ah, Callam. Lady Emily, if you would…?”
Emily blinked in surprise – the frozen man was Callam, Vesperian’s assistant – and then undid the spell with a wave of her hand. Callam fell to the floor, groaning loudly. Harman strode past him, further into the building, while Harriman helped Callam back to his feet. Emily took a moment to check him for spells and found nothing. He didn’t even have a protective amulet.
“I thought I should be here,” Callam said. “Mr. Harriman, I…”
“Good,” Harriman said. “Where are the books?”
“Upstairs,” Callam said. “Do you want to see them?”
“Yes.” Harriman nodded towards the stairwell. “Shall we go?”
Emily followed them up the stairs, reaching out with her senses as she walked. There were no wards at all, as far as she could determine…not even a basic anti-theft ward. Had they all died with Vesperian? Or had someone – or something – beaten them to the offices? She glanced into a pair of smaller rooms as they reached the top of the stairs, half-expecting to see another statue waiting for them. But there was nothing. The rooms seemed completely empty.
She reached out and tapped Callam’s shoulder. “What have you been doing since Vesperian’s death?”
“Waiting to see who I work for,” Callam said. “I believe Vesperian left most of his property to his son, but there were some…unusual bequests in the will.”
Emily frowned. “Unusual bequests?”
“Later,” Harriman said, as they entered an office. “I…”
His voice trailed away as they took in the scene before them. The office was a mess, pieces of paper and parchment lying everywhere. Emily glanced into the next room and saw a collection of filing cabinets, each one a jumbled mess. A dozen account books sat on a table, filled with entries in spiky handwriting. She wasn’t sure if someone had searched the building, looking for the money, or if Vesperian had simply left behind a tremendous mess. If there was a filing system, she couldn’t see it.
Her heart sank as she opened one of the account books. Vesperian had ignored all of the basics, making the books incredibly difficult to follow. He’d left notes or initials to represent his investors, but he hadn’t said if they owed him money or he owed them money. Emily picked her way through the pages, trying to determine if there were even any dates. She had no idea how each entry could be matched to a specific note, let alone used to figure out how much the note-holder was entitled to collect. She didn’t even know where to begin.
“Gods,” Harman breathed.
Emily turned. Harman had entered the room, his expression falling as he saw the chaos. She hadn’t expected much from him, but…she shook her head, fully understanding his dismay. How many account books were there? And how did they relate to one another? It might take years to sort them out, assuming it was even possible. Vesperian had clearly figured that his memory would be enough to put the pieces together, perhaps with a few prompts from his notes. She’d read books by sorcerers who’d seemed to follow the same principle.
“He was supposed to have hired accountants,” Harman said. “Where are they?”