The Astrologies

Chapter 16: Berekker Receives A Note

Even in the shade of the ancient cypress in Berekker's garden, the afternoon was oppressively hot and still. Berekker reclined in his cushioned wicker chair, regarding the beads of sweat that worked their way down the outside of his wine glass. An observer would have reported that Berekker was relaxed, and enjoying his chilled wine in the hot afternoon, but the truth was that Berekker was just barely overcoming the temptation to hurl his wine glass against the paving stones and watch it shatter across the yard.

Berekker closed his eyes with a smile and listened to his lute player. When he was deeply, profoundly, angry, he would force himself to smile and remember that, in the end, he always won. The Assessor, who had undoubtedly been paid off by Lighthall, had vastly undervalued Berekker's property, reducing the number of men-at-arms that Berekker could legally employ by half. Berekker had only just been given the news that he would have to release half of his men, when a letter had arrived, locked in the ornate case that Paya Gandro used for their most secret communications. Even though it had been years since they had worked together closely, Berekker still wore the key on a chain around his neck. As he read the letter, in his old mentor's flowing and excessive handwriting, he had become more and more vexed, until he could not talk to Gahdania, or to Catyan, or do anything but retire to his chair, fold his hands in front of his face, and reflect on his position with a smile.

He unfolded the letter once more.

Dearest friend,

It is my heart's fondest wish that this letter should find you well. Please do not take my silence for anger. I confess that I was disappointed at your refusal of partnership in my most recent venture, but I understand that sometimes even an old friend can ask too much. It brings me great joy to know that, in you, I have such a friend as can be trusted with even the greatest secrets. I must ask you now for one small favor.

My vessel, The Manatee, will arrive one day behind this letter and will anchor outside the Sea Wall for the night. I merely ask that you send a small boat— large enough for ten crates— to receive some cargo before the Assessors inspect my ship. I have arranged for the Sea Gate to be left open a crack, and I trust that by now you have assumed responsibility for security at the docks. My man who delivered this letter to you can be trusted absolutely. He will show you the cargo, and show you the warehouse on the docks where the cargo must be delivered.

By the time you hold this note, two weeks will be gone since it has passed my hand. I have arranged a table for you at The Spotted Goose this evening. My man inside the palace will meet you there and tell you whether our secrecy has been compromised. If so, I implore you to have your men go to The Manatee and throw the cargo overboard.

If you will do this small thing for me, I will forgive you a thousand times over. Please give my fondest greetings to Gahdania, who is assuredly the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld, and to her brother Catyan, as well.

Entirely yours forever,

Paya Gandro

Berekker had not taken control of security at the docks, and he wanted nothing to do with Paya Gandro's treasonous plot. He wanted to burn the letter and never think of it again. Paya Gandro had put Berekker in an extremely dangerous position— a position far more dangerous than his own, and a position that he knew Berekker would not like. In Paya Gandro's calculations, Berekker would be furious, but would do as he was asked. Paya Gandro was confident that Berekker would not leave him at the mercy of the Assessors and the Empire, and the shrewd Southern merchant was right. Berekker would do as he was asked. He would get Paya Gandro's cargo into the city.

It was the only option. He owed Paya Gandro too much. They had shared too many meals, partnered on too many expeditions, and helped one another through trying times. Paya Gandro knew all this. He must have also known that he asked too much, that what he was doing was unforgivable. Berekker would risk his life and his honor to protect Paya Gandro, and see that his cargo was smuggled into Merendir, but he would never forgive him.

Beside him, Janieu cleared his throat. Berekker was not sure how long the steward had been standing there, watching as he stared at his wine glass and smiled to himself.

"Will you take your supper inside or outside tonight, sir?" Janieu asked. The sadness in his voice, the resentment and the anger, were almost imperceptible. He was as careful and consistent in his dissimulation as he was in his work. Berekker studied the man's face. He was ugly. He was pallid and sagging, with bright red, puffy, lips, and deep black, thinning hair that no longer covered his spotted head. A winning smile might easily have erased that all, but Janieu's entire palette of expression was dark.

Berekker waved him off, saying "Wine will suffice for now," and turned his thoughts back to Paya Gandro and his illicit shipment. Getting cargo through the Sea Wall and into the warehouses in the middle of the night would not be easy. It would require the blessing, if not the cooperation, of Grainger and the Poorman's Union. That would be expensive, and Berekker was loath to owe Grainger a favor. Even getting an audience with Grainger on short notice would not be easy. It would be no small task to steer a small boat, heavy with cargo, close enough to the Sea Wall and the rocky cliffs of the bay to stay out of sight of the light towers. The eddies would be fickle and fierce, and the boat unresponsive. Berekker considered who among his men might have the skill to bring the boat in, and the discretion to be given such a sensitive task. His most trustworthy men were not sailors, and his best sailors were loud-mouths. Berekker's smile widened an inch. He would have to do it himself.