The Folding Knife Part 11

Ba.s.so took a deep breath. "Personally," he said, "I'm more concerned about the Strength Through Simplicity. Is it true they want to borrow another ninety thousand?"

Tragazes nodded. "As a matter of fact, I authorised the loan just this morning. That brings the total up to three hundred and seventy thousand."

Just the question he'd been about to ask. "That's rather a lot."

Another nod. "We have debentures for two hundred thousand, and personal guarantees for the balance. Also, we insisted on full accounts for the last two years and a detailed projection of future commitments. It's a very sound business. We think they're poised to break into a very interesting new market."

Exactly what he'd have said to Antigonus, though he'd have used better words. "Keep an eye on them, too," he said.

"Of course."

Why did talking to this man make him feel like he was carrying bricks uphill? "So," he said, "what do you make of this business in Scleria?"

Tragazes, it turned out, made more or less the same of it as he did, though he contrived to make it sound dull and somehow obvious. He had that knack. And all the while, he sat perfectly still, as though only the parts of him required for answering questions were alive. Ba.s.so thought about that. It was almost as though Tragazes was aware that his reserves of energy belonged to his employer, and he wasn't prepared to expend a single movement if it wasn't entirely justified. When he'd completed his presentation (it was hard to think of it that way), he paused, blinked, and said, "Is there anything else?"

"I don't know," Ba.s.so replied. "You tell me."

Another pause, and the pale blue eyes seemed to glaze over, until Ba.s.so was sure he was about to fall asleep. Then he shifted ever so slightly in his chair (which creaked) and said, "We were wondering whether this would be a good time to take over the Land & Sea Credit."

Ba.s.so frowned, as though what he'd heard didn't make sense. "Why would I want to do a thing like that?" he said.

The explanation followed, smart as a military parade, and Ba.s.so realised that the arguments were good, the opportunity was real, and he hadn't thought of it for himself. Tragazes, on the other hand, had clearly gone into it in great depth. "Just a moment," he interrupted (and Tragazes shut up instantly, faster than any mechanism). "That's not bad," he said. "Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"We still don't have the end-of-quarter results," Tragazes replied. "We would want to see a four per cent decline in domestic business, coupled with a slight rise in bad debt provision. That would tilt the balance of leverage just enough in our favour."

Well, of course. He felt like a peasant for having to ask. "Before we act, yes," he said. "But you might have mentioned it."

"Sorry," Tragazes said. "We didn't want to bother you with it till we were quite sure."

Of course they didn't. "It's a good idea," Ba.s.so said. "Yes, we'll do that, once we've got those figures. Thank you, you've done a good job."

But praise just seemed to skid off, like a file on hardened steel. "We've also been looking at the situation in Boezen," Tragazes said. "We feel that some sort of intervention may become necessary to stabilise the hyperpyron against the nomisma, which would of course involve us in buying quite heavily in the short term. However..."

A curious thing, Ba.s.so thought, and something he wouldn't have believed possible. Tragazes could make something like the Boezen currency crisis boring. He was, of course, quite right. If the Bank stuffed a huge wedge of Republican nomismata into Boezen over the course of the next month, it would stop the run on the hyperpyron; the Boezen Emperor would then have no choice but to up the gold content, maybe going back to the pre-war standard of twenty parts fine, which would result in Boezen effectively pricing itself out of the bulk timber market. The Bank could then sell hyperpyra at a profit. No way in h.e.l.l was that boring, but Tragazes made it sound like it was. In which case- "I approve," he said. "You carry on and do that, a.s.suming it all pans out. Meanwhile, there's something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Of course."

"My nephew," Ba.s.so said. "He's very keen to join the Bank. Now, he's a bright lad with a good head on his shoulders, but he's new to business and he's never done a day's work in his life. I'd like you to have him sit in with you for a while, just to get the feel of things; maybe you could explain the basics to him, so he gets a proper understanding of what the work of the Bank is really all about. Would that be all right?"

The pale blue eyes blinked. "We'd be delighted," Tragazes said. "Only too pleased."

"That's settled, then," Ba.s.so said. "I'll send him over to you. No special treatment, mind. I want him to make himself useful."

"Of course."

Indeed. Of course, of course. "Thank you," Ba.s.so said, "that's all."

Tragazes stood up, practically filling the room, bowed his head-it wasn't his fault that a gesture evidently intended to convey sincere respect put Ba.s.so in mind of a bull about to charge-and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. When he'd gone, Ba.s.so looked down at his left hand (the damaged one) and found that he'd been gripping the arm of his chair so hard he'd left nail-marks in the wood.

Ba.s.sano was late. He'd been held up, he explained, by the crowds in the streets, going home from the victory parade.

"Really?" Ba.s.so frowned. "I'd have thought your end of town would've been relatively clear."

"I didn't come from home," Ba.s.sano said.

Ba.s.so had ordered dinner in the small cloister, looking out over the lavender garden. It had turned out chillier than he'd expected, so he'd had them light the boilers to heat up the underfloor conduits. It took time, though, for the hot water to feed through, so he'd sent in for a brazier as well, and the breeze was blowing the smoke back towards the house. "Oh," Ba.s.so said. "Anyway, you're here now. You'll like this. Sea ba.s.s, in mustard sauce."

Ba.s.sano liked his food. "Thanks, Uncle," he said. "As it happens, I'm starving. I missed lunch."

They moved their chairs to avoid the smoke, which meant they had to look at the wall instead of the lavender beds. "Did you see Aelius' parade?"

"I caught a bit of it," Ba.s.sano said. "Where they were leading him through the Pig Market on that rope. He didn't seem awfully happy."

Ba.s.so laughed. "Don't suppose he was. It's hard to cut a dashing figure when you look like you're being led away to the gallows. Still, I asked him if he wanted the full traditional entry. Serves him right if he couldn't be bothered to look it up first." He poured the wine, but Ba.s.sano said, "If it's all right with you, I'll just have water."

"Really?"

Nod. "I'm going to get used to it by stages."

"Explain."

Ba.s.sano took off his gloves and laid them on the table. "I did as you suggested," he said. "I've enrolled at the Studium. Hence, no booze for a month. I don't actually have to lay off it until term starts, but-"

"You did what?"

Ba.s.sano grinned. "I'm going to be a priest," he said. "Like you said I should."

"Oh." Ba.s.so put down his gla.s.s without drinking. "But I've just arranged for you to start at the Bank."

Ba.s.sano pulled a face. "Now he tells me. Why the change of heart?"

"It's what you wanted."

"And since when was that a good reason for anything?" It was a quotation, of course, from the collected aphorisms of First Citizen Ba.s.sia.n.u.s Severus. "Mind you, that wasn't the only reason. Mother's been on at me. Basically, it was either join up or move out, and I simply can't face packing up all my stuff and finding somewhere. Also, I have genuinely been thinking about what you said. The priesthood's a good career, so long as you don't get bogged down in the religious side of things."

Ba.s.so had intended to shout at him, but it came out as a sort of ferocious laugh. "For crying out loud," he said. "Oh well. Tragazes'll be disappointed."

"The gentle giant? What's he got to do with it?"

"You were going to go and sit in with him for a month."

Ba.s.sano grinned. "Is that right? Well, in that case." He shook his head. "The idea being, I suppose, that after a month with Tragazes I'd run away and join the circus, or enrol in pearl-diving school or something."

"More or less," Ba.s.so admitted. "So that's all right. But seriously. You're not just doing it to please your mother?"

"No," Ba.s.sano said, running a fingertip round the edge of his empty gla.s.s. "But it is a factor, yes. I guess you haven't heard Mother's news."

Ba.s.so didn't like the sound of that. "I would, of course, be the last person to hear."

"Indeed." Ba.s.sano looked away. "She's getting married."

It would have to be that moment when they brought in the food: the very finest sea ba.s.s, caught that morning in the bay, in a sauce cooked by an Isacian that Ba.s.so had hired specifically because he knew how to handle sea fish properly. Neither of them even looked at it.

"Say that again," Ba.s.so said.

"You heard."

"All right. Who?"

Ba.s.sano waited a full three seconds before answering. "Olybrias. You know, he runs the-"

"I know who he is," Ba.s.so snapped, so savagely that Ba.s.sano winced. He wasn't too keen on loud noises. "But that's ridiculous," Ba.s.so said. "And anyway, she can't. He's not even a citizen."

"Actually, he is," Ba.s.sano said quietly. "Or he will be in three weeks' time, when the Donatives come out. Apparently he made a large contribution to Optimate funds, so the Labieni have adopted him."

"That's..." Ba.s.so could feel his chest tightening. He lowered his voice. "For G.o.d's sake," he said. "General Aelius isn't a citizen, and he's the Commander-in-Chief. What sort of sense does that make?"

Ba.s.sano had the grace not to point out the obvious flaw in that line of argument. "You could stop it," he said. "If you wanted to."

"Interfere with the Donatives?" Ba.s.so laughed. "Sure I could, if I don't mind committing political suicide." He shook his head. "You know, it's a crying shame we don't let women into politics. Think what a leader of the Opposition your mother would have made. It's the simplicity of it that really impresses me; that, and the sheer intensity of the malevolence."

Ba.s.sano looked at him. "So what are you going to do?"

"Me?" Ba.s.so shrugged. "Nothing. At least, not till I hear the rest of it."

"You think there's more."

"Definitely. And I can see several lines of attack she could be following, but until she tells me, I won't know which it really is. I'll say this for her, she makes life interesting."

He didn't have long to wait. A letter arrived the next morning: if his schedule allowed, could he possibly spare her half an hour, say at noon? If so, she'd call at the House; no need to send a carriage.

"Well?" he said.

He hadn't seen her for ten years. The shape of her face was basically the same, but she'd put on weight; she looked swollen, as if she'd been stung by a wasp, and her hands and wrists were soft and pudgy. There were streaks of grey in her hair; the fact that she'd left them grey was a statement in itself. She was wearing plain black, with no jewellery.

"Thank you so much for seeing me at such short notice," she said. "May I sit down?"

"Do what you like," he replied.

"Thank you." She perched on the edge of a chair, her hands folded in her lap. She looked as though she'd come to apply for a job as a nanny. "I suppose my son's told you my good news."

"For pity's sake," Ba.s.so snapped. "Will you stop that?"

She blinked at him; reminded him of Tragazes, which really wasn't good. "Stop what?"

"Being polite. It doesn't suit you."

"You might try it some time."

She's better at this than me, he thought, so I'd better change the rules of engagement. "Quite right," he said. "So, yes, Ba.s.sano did tell me."

"And you're happy for me?"

He gave in and sat down. "Oh, delighted," he said. "I'm sure you must be as happy as a songbird. You're going to marry my chief business rival, who also happens to be a high-profile supporter of the Opposition. Short of stabbing me in the neck, you could hardly have done a better job."

She smiled at him. "So you're not going to make difficulties."

"Sorry, no." He smiled back. "If you mean, am I going to veto his grant of citizenship in the Donatives, I'm afraid I can't oblige you there. When I decide to end my political career, I'll do it my own way, not yours."

"I'm so glad. We were hoping to get married as soon as the Donative formalities are out of the way. If we'd had to fight you in the courts..."

"You'd lose."

"Yes, but think of all the harm it would do you. So it's just as well you're going to be sensible, isn't it?"

He breathed out, until he'd drained all the air out of his lungs, then slowly breathed in again. "Why do you want Ba.s.sano to be a priest?"

"Because I don't want you luring him into the Bank," she replied. "But I'll come to that later. I just want your promise about the citizenship. To make sure we understand each other."

"I promise," Ba.s.so said sourly (and he thought: she's making me sound like a little boy). "All right," he said. "Can we stop messing about now, please? What's the deal?"

She looked at him as if he'd just propositioned her in the street. "You don't change, do you? You always have to attack, whatever happens."

"I'm sorry you think so," he replied. "But no, I don't. I'd far rather negotiate. So, please, tell me what you have in mind."

She nodded, rather gracefully, as if accepting his surrender after a long and unnecessary siege. "First," she said, "you leave my son alone. I don't want him coming here, seeing you, spending time with you. I don't want him writing to you, or you writing to him. Second, under no circ.u.mstances is he to join the Bank. Also, I don't want you giving him shares in the Bank or anything like that. He's going to be a priest. Do you understand?"

Ba.s.so nodded. "And if I agree, you won't marry Olybrias."

"That's right. Oh, I haven't quite finished yet. There are two other conditions."

Ba.s.so sighed. "You're pushing it," he said, "but go on."

"Actually, I'm being rather moderate. I would actually have quite liked to marry again."

"Olybrias?"

She shrugged. "The foundation of any good marriage is a shared pa.s.sion. Olybrias hates you pa.s.sionately. I suppose that makes him and me ideally suited. Also, he's a devout Pavian."

"I didn't know that," Ba.s.so said, "but it figures. Go on, then. Two more conditions."

"Yes." She unfolded her hands and put her left forefinger on her right thumb, as though counting. "Under his father's marriage settlement, Ba.s.sano comes into his money in six months. You're the sole surviving trustee. I want you to resign the trusteeship in favour of the Patriarch of the Studium. That way, he won't get his money until he's ordained, which won't be for three years."

Ba.s.so looked up. "That's-" He stopped himself. "Your idea?"

"Mostly. Second," she went on, "I want you to marry again. Since it may take you a while to find someone who'll have you, I'll give you three months-until the twins' birthday. In fact, I can't think of a nicer birthday present for them."

Ba.s.so's eyes were wide open. "Are you out of your mind?"