Paltis drooped, as Arcolin expected. “Maybe—maybe the Blues can squeeze into the other two-thirds.”
“In addition,” Arcolin said, “the Blues are not approved at all.”
“But they pay well,” Paltis said.
“They treat their wounded badly,” Arcolin said. “I will not have them mingling with my people.”
“Your people?”
“They are now,” Arcolin said. “And I intend to take care of them. Cancel whatever agreement you have with the Blues; tell them the owner’s back in the south and needs the space.”
“But—what about the rest of it—surely you want to lease some of it—”
“I’ll decide that later,” Arcolin said. “Our contract’s with Cortes Vonja—you can send me messages there, if you need to.”
“The Blues will be angry.” Paltis looked worried.
“Only if you tell them why I don’t want them. And surely you have more discretion than to tell them that, don’t you?” Arcolin put a little menace in his voice; the factor stepped back a pace.
“Of course I wouldn’t, Captain.”
“If you say what I told you, that the owner required the space, and your contract with the owner requires you to release it, they may be annoyed, but they won’t be angry with you. It’s in the contract; you’re a man of business; you hold to contracts.”
“Yes … that’s true. Well, then, what about renting to caravans for short-term in the summer? I’ve done that; they stay only a few days, on their way north or south, and they clean up after themselves.” Paltis looked at Arcolin, glanced away. “It covers the cost of a watchman, their fee does.”
Arcolin knew the Duke had allowed caravans to use the winter quarters during the campaign season. “You may do that for this season,” he said. “But no long-term contracts. I may require the space some years. Deposit the rental fees at Kavarthin & Sons, as usual.”
“I will,” Paltis said, bowing. “Of course I will.” Something about his tone made Arcolin doubt him.
Arcolin rode across the city, more familiar to him than Vérella, noticing the changes two years had brought. Though the market square stalls were open for business and traders cried their wares, he sensed tension, and few children played there, where they’d been always underfoot before.
He decided to pay a last visit to the banker’s—they opened when the market did—and ask his opinion of Paltis.
“Oh, Paltis is good enough of his type,” Fenin Kavarthin said. He offered Arcolin a mug of sib; courtesy required taking at least a sip. “He makes his profit from his commission, as I’m sure you know, and so he wants to lease to the wealthiest he can find. Brings in a trickle to the Duke—my apologies, Captain. To you now—after the tax the city takes, and his fee.”
“How often does he deposit here?”
“You’re doubting him, I see. I cannot help you, if you wonder whether he’s stealing from the Duke—from you. I never see the contracts; he keeps those. All I see is what he sends to the account. He leases for the entire winter season and I can expect a deposit for the reservation fee, then on arrival, the day before Midwinter Feast, and the Spring Evener. Summer leases are variable—some caravans rent the place for only a night, some for a hand of days. I may see a deposit four or five times during the summer.”
“But you aren’t sure how many summer contracts he makes, or what he charges—?”
“No. That is not my duty.” Kavarthin pressed his lips together.
“Quite,” Arcolin said. “I meant no discourtesy.”
“Those not in our field sometimes think it extends to anything having to do with money,” Kavarthin said. “I am not offended that you ask, but making clear where our responsibility ends. We keep your money safe.”
“For which I am grateful,” Arcolin said. “On another matter—are you still affiliated with the Merchants’ Guild? We heard rumors in the north that some banks are now refusing reciprocity.”
“We have our agreements. Things have changed since you were last here, but in Cortes Vonja … if you want to deposit funds with Kostin, he has been reliable so far. Our greatest concern now is that some Guild League cities are minting inferior coins. Cortes Vonja and Pler Vonja, so far, have not done so. Should you wish to send funds here, I would advise a heavier guard. Travel on the Guild League trade roads is not as safe as it was five years ago.”
“Thank you,” Arcolin said, draining his cup of sib. “Thank you for your advice.”
“If you want someone to check on Paltis—”
“Not at this time,” Arcolin said. “It’s just that it’s been several years since anyone went over the accounts with him.”
“Just so. One of my sons, grown up in our business, can be hired for that work. There are others, of course, and I will not say he is better than others or it will seem a father’s favor, but because this bank handles the money of several mercenary companies, he is familiar with military finances.”
“I will consider that, Master Kavarthin. Perhaps it will be as well to wait until we return—”
“If you truly suspect your factor has been cheating you,” Kavarthin said, “it would be well to catch him out before he changes his records.”
Arcolin considered. “Perhaps so, but my cohort marched this morning. I must be with them by midday, at least, or they will worry. You yourself consider him good of his kind—”
Kavarthin sat back and folded his hands on his stomach. “It is my experience that everyone handling someone else’s money faces the temptation to borrow a little of it from time to time. Even we bankers. We have a guild, as you know, and within that guild, for the good of all, we have rules and checks to keep our reputation secure. Factors have no guild. If owners of property are here, and use their factor merely as a convenience, another servant to run errands for them, most are honest. But in cases like this, where the owner is far away and may or may not appear once in a year … well, factors are only human, after all, and they can come to feel that they do more of the work and receive less of the profit.” He coughed, a soft dry cough that conveyed more of his opinion of factors than the state of his lungs. “I am not saying—I will not say, because I do not know—that Paltis has been dishonest. But there has been talk that Paltis might have indulged himself.”
That was clear enough. “Perhaps I should speak to your son before I leave,” Arcolin said. “And yet, I must leave soon.”
Kavarthin pushed himself up. “Just a moment, if you can spare it.” He went to the door of his office and called. “Stepan!”
Arcolin had met one of Kavarthin’s elder sons, Arpan, a few years before. Stepan clearly came from the same mold. He bowed politely to Arcolin and looked at his father.
“Captain Arcolin is a little concerned about the activities of his factor, Paltis,” Kavarthin explained. “He must ride this morning; he has a contract with Cortes Vonja. I suggested he might engage your services to look over Paltis’s contracts, since he cannot stay in Valdaire himself.”
“Certainly,” Stepan said, looking at Arcolin. “I would need a letter from you, Captain, giving me authority to speak to Paltis, and some idea of the terms of his contract with you—or, it would have been with Duke Phelan, would it not?”
“Yes,” Arcolin said. “That contract is still operable, though. The Duke had me cosign it.”
“That’s good, but you should make a new contract as soon as possible. Sometime this summer, at least. I understand you’re in a hurry, but if you could just give me that letter.”
Arcolin felt as if he’d stepped into a quagmire. Not only was it taking longer than he’d told Burek, but finances always affected him that way. One of the reasons he’d never seriously considered having his own company was his distaste for the money side. Well, if you fell into a swamp, the thing to do was climb back out. “I’ll be glad to,” he said.