That was the core of the matter. It was the Bank of Dimay against all of Nidor—and Dimay would have to be sacrificed. Whether the note were true or not, there was only one thing he could do. And, by the Great Light, he would do it!
Calmly, the old priest reached for the pen on his desk. His gnarled hands quivered a little, but he pulled a sheet of embossed paper to him and began to write.
The Krand made its way into the crowded harbor of Vashcor nearly a week later, with Kris peKym standing proudly on the deck, staring at the sprawling seaport as if he were about to receive a hero's ovation.
They docked at one of the smaller piers, and Kris turned to Dran peDran. "When the cargo is unloaded, give the men a day's liberty," he told the Bronze Islander. "I'm going to pay a visit to Headquarters to see what our next job is."
"Is fine, sir," Dran peDran said.
Kris nodded and climbed ashore. He moved quickly through the knot of sailors and dockhands that thronged the busy waterfront, heading toward the small frame house that was the headquarters of the Merchants' Party.
Norvis peKrin Dmorno looked up and smiled in greeting as Kris entered.
"Well! The pirate has returned!"
"Safe and sound," Kris said, glancing around. "I see Del's not back yet."
"No," Norvis said. "I expected him back yesterday, but there's been so much trouble in Tammulcor that he must have been delayed. How did your voyage go?"
"Well enough. We brought back copper and tin from the Bronze Islands, and cloth from Tammulcor." He frowned, then added: "And we lost a man: Vels peKorvin Danoy. He went overboard during the voyage." Kris saw no need to elaborate; the affair was closed, and such losses at sea were not uncommon.
Norvis nodded. "I'll see that the proper papers are filled. Have you heard the news about Tammulcor? There's trouble down there."
"I dare say," Kris replied, grinning. "What happened? Someone rob a bank?"
Norvis was only slightly amused. "That, and more. The Council, under instruction from Elder Grandfather Kiv peGanz Brajjyd, has refused to replace the money. The scrip of Dimay is utterly worthless."
Kris looked puzzled. "Why the devil did he do that?"
Norvis smiled. "Because he doesn't know where the cobalt is, of course. If he were to replace it, and back the Bank of Dimay, what would happen if we dumped all that cobalt back on the market? There would be eight million weights too many floating around Nidor. See?"
Kris nodded. "Good. When are we going to dump it then? You want me to go back and dig the stuff up?"
"Not at all. It's causing more than enough trouble right where it is." The Secretary leaned backward and put his hands behind his head. "We're wicked, aren't we?" he asked suddenly.
"Living devils," said Kris. He stood there silent for a moment, toying with a carved-ivory statuette some sailor had made from a bone of a large sea animal and had given to Secretary Norvis long ago.
Suddenly, the abrupt plop plop plop of cloven deest-hoofs sounded outside. Kris looked up to see Leader Del pulling up at the hitching-post in front of Headquarters.
Kris nodded coolly as the Leader entered. Del's fine golden body-down was covered with a dull coating of road dust from his journey, and he showed signs of fatigue.
"Miserable trip," Del peFenn Vyless grunted as he strode in and sat down. "I'd rather sail from Gycor to Lidacor the long way than travel from Tammulcor by deest."
"How come you rode?" Kris asked.
"Couldn't get a ship," said Del. "I was in Elvisen when I found out there was trouble down in the south, so I rode down there. But the harbor's so fouled up because of the riots that there weren't any passenger ships available." He coughed and wiped perspiration from his face.
"Find out anything interesting down there?" Norvis asked.
"Aye," Del peFenn said heavily. He was a big man, tall for a Nidorian, with wide, muscular shoulders. He still walked with the rolling stride of a seafaring man, although it had been ten years since he had last captained a merchantship. "Aye. We have a bunch of raggle-tail grumblers who don't know what they want, but who know they don't like things the way they are."
"Sounds like promising material for us," Kris said.
Del dropped into a chair at the side of the bare room. "I don't know," he said. "The fatheads didn't want to listen to me." The Leader smoothed a thick-fingered hand over his silvering down.
At Del's bitter words, Kris felt a moment of triumph. He knew blustering, clumsy Del was doing things the wrong way—and here the Leader himself was admitting failure!
Del shook his head. "The Elders pulled the rug out from under those people by scragging their bank. They're rioting, marching up and down, burning things and yelling. And yet ... yet they can't be persuaded that the priests are no good for them. I don't understand it, Norvis."
Suppose we send Kris down there?" Norvis suggested suddenly. "We need Tammulcor—it's the lifeline of Gelusar and all the Central Plains area. It's a trading port surrounded by plenty of farming country—and the farmers are still on the side of the Elders, despite all that's happened to them."
"Why send Kris?" Del asked uneasily.
"He's a new face. He might be able to do the trick where you failed. They know you from way back, and they know you don't respect their religion. They don't know Kris."
Del considered that for a moment. "All right," he said finally.
"Let's send Kris to Tammulcor." He turned to face Kris peKym, who had been watching the interplay silently and without opinion. "You'd better go by deest," he said. "The harbor's blocked up."
"You want me to go immediately?" Kris asked, surprised despite himself.
Del nodded. "I think so. Come— let's sit down and plan out what you're going to say to them."
Chapter V
Kris peKym's strong baritone rang joyously through the warm, humid summer air.
"You is so right, captain," Dran peDran said. His voice sounded tired. "I is weary from riding this cursed deest. It's no way for an honest sailor to travel."
"Quiet, youngster," Kris said smilingly. "The feel of a deest ride, if you but had the sense to notice it, is very like that of a boat."
"Yes. I is in agreement I is never been sea-sick in my life, but I is definitely deest-sick now."
Kris grinned. "Better get used to the swing of it, Dran. We've got a long way to go."
The seaport of Thyvocor was not far behind them; Tammulcor was more than a day's journey overland ahead. They were on the second leg of their journey southwest to the big seaport.
There was a direct route from Vashcor to Tammulcor, but it was winding, dusty, and rarely traveled. There was the constant menace of bandits to be considered, too. Instead of the overland route, Kris and Dran peDran had taken the coastal packet south from Vashcor to Thyvocor, and there had purchased two sturdy-looking deests with which to complete the journey overland from midpoint. Vashcor lay directly west of the small port of Thyvocor.
"Flat, dull country this is," Dran commented as they spurred their mounts through the coastal lowlands.
Kris nodded. It was dull country, all marshy gray-green grass and flat, swampy plain. But it was necessary to cross through it, and so they were crossing it. It sometimes was necessary, Kris realized, to do perfectly dull, dreary things like crossing the lowlands, in order to get to where more exciting things could happen.