Had Xzu noticed his disconcertment? No. The Banker Second Class was engaged in pouring some more wine.
Xzu looked up.
‘What did you see?’ said he.
‘Not much,’ said Alfric, who felt under no compulsion to lie for the sake of politeness.
‘Ah,’ said Xzu. ‘A pity. You should come here by day. It’s a good view then. The bulk of Mobius Kolb stands between us and a perfect viewscape. Still, what we do see is remarkable.’
‘One suspects the vista is truly worthy of admiration,’ said Alfric cautiously. ‘Yet the fragility of glass is surely not entirely compatible with the requirements of security.’
‘This is,’ said Xzu.
And rapped his knuckles against the window, then invited Alfric to do likewise, which he did.
‘We bought these panes of glass three generations ago,’ said Xzu. ‘From the ogres of the Qinjoks, as it happens.’
‘Truly?’ said Alfric in wonderment. ‘I did not know they had such skill.’
His opinion of the ogres was thus much enhanced, though this enhancement was spurious. In point of fact, the ogres had not made those windows: they had found them. Each window had once been the windshield of a Raflanderk IV All-Terrain Assault Vehicle, a product of a civilization long since destroyed and forgotten.
‘What skills the ogres do or do not possess is a moot point,’ said Xzu, who rightly suspected the miraculous windows to be a relic of antiquity. ‘The point is,’ said Xzu, ‘the windows let us enjoy the view.’ Then, a little pointedly: ‘As it happens, I’ve often enjoyed the view.’
Only then, belatedly, did Alfric realize what Xzu was trying to tell him. Xzu was highlighting his long familiarity with the Survey Room. Xzu was making a power statement. Usually, Alfric would have picked up this subtlety immediately, without needing to have it hammered home. But renewed acquaintance with his father’s world had temporarily lessened the enthusiasm with which he usually attended to the nuances of conversation.
It would be overstating the case to say that rebellion stirred in Alfric’s heart. Still, on this occasion he found himself impatient with the posturing, the over-intricate manoeuvring and sidelong statements of oracular ambiguity which attended life within the Bank. For the first time in a long time, he found no delight in his own understanding of the shadings of suggestion and the implications of unstated comment.
‘Our masters live well,’ said Alfric.
This was a subtle statement in its own right; for Alfric was pointing out that there were powers in the Bank far greater than Xzu.
‘So they do,’ said Comptroller Xzu. ‘Happily, for the moment I share their privileges, since I have been temporarily raised to the rank of Banker First Class. I am also temporarily without peers, since our Masters are Elsewhere.’
Alfric knew the meaning of this, and was not so indiscreet as to ask ‘where’.
Instead, he sipped his wine and pretended to admire the view as Banker Xzu, temporarily a Master, continued the lengthy verbal preambles with which he was choosing to preface whatever business it was that he wished to conduct.
The Yudonic Knights of Wen Endex tend to see verbal intercourse as a form of rape, whereas the bankers view it more as an exercise of the arts of seduction. Hence, whereas the Knights will settle swiftly to the meat of a matter, the bankers are not so hasty. Rather, they choose to exercise their eloquence as if for its own sake. A procedure not without reason, for each Bank, by the nature of its Secret, is intimately connected with other great financial institutions in cultures greatly dissimilar from each other; which leads to the need for the diligent cultivation of delicacies of diplomacy, lest sensibilities be needlessly affronted when business is done.
At last Banker Xzu got to the point:
‘Sometimes in this life one finds oneself progressing towards quite unforeseen goals. Do you not agree?’
‘One would not lightly venture to disagree,’ said Alfric cautiously.
‘Furthermore, it is immature — is it not? — to be obsessionally addicted to a certain line of action. Surely flexibility is a mark of maturity.’
‘It has been said that firm resolution is admirable,’ said Alfric. ‘Nevertheless, I take your point.’
Then, to Alfric’s surprise, Banker Xzu produced a legal document some years old, and invited Alfric to read it. Of course he recognized it immediately. It was a treaty he had signed when he entered the Bank. The treaty committed Alfric to try (should the Bank so direct it) to win the throne of Wen Endex: but only if the Wormlord should die or should be appearing to die.
Alfric had signed that treaty because at the time (how could he have been so naive?) he had genuinely believed Tromso Stavenger to be immortal.
‘Interesting,’ said Alfric, perusing the contract. ‘Such a luxuriance of words speaks of great expense undertaken by lawyers and their clerks. It speaks of a serious investment in myself. An investment on the part of the Bank, I mean. Surely that investment was not meant as a preparation for death. Or is there some nuance in the multi-layered complexity of the present situation which I have missed? Is this contract being evoked to secure my death?’
‘I have not said that the contract is being evoked at all,’ said Banker Xzu gently.
‘Then why show it to me?’ said Alfric, with a flash of anger.
‘To… to refresh your memory,’ said Xzu. ‘It does exist. It could be evoked. Should we choose. But we would prefer…we would prefer a volunteer.’
‘You want me to volunteer, do you? To volunteer to quest for the saga swords. But why? If you want me dead, why choose such an elaborate method?’
‘Alfric,’ said Banker Xzu, ‘we do not want you dead. We want you to succeed. To make yourself king. Were you to become Wormlord, there could be a very favourable alliance between the throne and the Bank.’ ‘But the quests are suicidal,’ said Alfric. ‘All three of them. Why, hundreds have been killed by the dragon alone.’
‘Not so,’ said Banker Xzu. ‘The dragon has so far killed fewer than sixty people.’
‘Fewer than sixty,’ said Alfric. ‘So I exaggerate, do I?
Many questing heroes have gone against the dragon. All have died. So you will grant, surely, a mortality rate of 100 per cent.’
‘I grant it,’ said Xzu. ‘But you are not as others. Come, let us descend to the lower depths. The Bank has gathered together certain experts who, we believe, can instruct you in methods whereby you may attempt the quests with every hope of success.’
‘That’s as may be,’ said Alfric, ‘but I beg permission to go home before attending a meeting with any such experts. My wife will be worried if I don’t come home soon.’
‘Return you cannot,’ said Xzu. ‘You must stay here until it is time for you to go to the palace.’
‘To go to the palace?’
‘Yes. To go to the palace to formally nominate yourself as a questing hero.’
‘You command,’ said Alfric, ‘so I must obey. Still, my wife will be worried.’
Actually, Alfric thought Viola could take care of herself; but he was nevertheless at pains to emphasize his concern, for the Bank placed a high value on marital stability, and Alfric knew the most casual comments sometimes find their way into a personal dossier.
‘Never mind about your darling Viola,’ said Xzu, in tones so soothing that Alfric momentarily wondered if the man was drunk. ‘A messenger will be sent to tell her you are delayed, and why.’
‘Is it wise for us thus to disclose our business?’ said Alfric.
‘Your wife will be… adequately informed,’ said Xzu. ‘Meantime, let us go and meet our experts.’
So Alfric Danbrog went and met with experts who had been gathered together by the Bank. And much did Alfric learn about the fighting of dragons, the braving of giants and the habits of vampires. Then he presented himself to the Wormlord. In the presence of Tromso Stavenger and his ministers, in the presence of Ursula Major and a full fifty of the Yudonic Knights, Alfric Danbrog committed himself to a heroic quest, this quest being to recover the three swords of saga and bring them to Saxo Pall in proof of the performance of his courage.