Preserving Hope (26 page)

“Do it, you coward!” she snapped. “The lot of you have been trying to kill me for years. Slit my throat, and my father will love you like the son he wishes he’d had. Or are you too weak to decide anything on your own?”

Maynard lunged at her, grabbed her arm, and spun her around so that she was pinned against him. He put the long edge of the blade against her throat, and the villagers stopped to watch, uncertain what to do. “Hey, Will!” Maynard shouted. “What do you think I should do here?” Nervous laughter flitted through the villagers. Their words were tough, their anger stoked, but they were uncomfortable with the idea of the cold-blooded murder of a young woman.

Will dispatched his nanos, creating a shield that covered Elizabeth’s neck, and sent the rest to cover the surface of the sword. He directed the nanos to gradually pull the sword down toward the ground, and the sudden weight took Maynard by surprise. “Looks like you need to make yourself a lighter sword, Maynard,” Will said. “That one appears to be a bit too heavy for you to control, and I’m concerned someone might get hurt.” The weight of the sword increased to the point that Maynard could no longer hold it upright, and it swung down in an arc, gaining weight the entire time, and slipped from his grasp. The blade embedded in the ground only inches from Arthur, who looked startled and then glared at Maynard. The metal smith looked at the blade, baffled.

“Be careful, Maynard,” Will said. “Whether it’s guilt over your bullying of an unarmed woman or weakness of your arm, you really need to get a new sword. One more move like that and you might find yourself…” He paused, leaned forward, glanced around as if to make sure nobody else could hear, and then looked back at Maynard. “You might find yourself forced to be a Trader. And we seem to be out of business.”

Elizabeth, who had managed to remain calm while having a sharp sword pressed to her throat, gathered her composure.
Thanks for taking care of me, Will.

My pleasure
, he responded.

Elizabeth turned to face Maynard, and patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe the zirple weakens sword-wielding muscles, Maynard. Perhaps you should consider cutting back on one of them.” And she walked away, heading toward the river, leaving Maynard confused as to what had happened.

Elizabeth elected to stay behind after the morning bath, and the six remaining Traders walked back to the village without her. The temporary joy they’d felt at the conclusion of the encounter with Maynard was undermined when they walked through the gate. They moved around to each of the craft masters, looking for opportunities to work, but none would take them on. Arthur and Maynard stood on either side of the collection of Shops, watching, ensuring that no one provided an opportunity for the Traders. Annoyed and hungry, they made their way to the chefs and bakers for their morning meals.

“Two coppers,” the chef told Will, his gaze icy.

Will stared at him. The cost per meal had always been one copper, and he had a hunch the sudden change wasn’t by chance. “When did the cost go up?”

The chef glared at him. “Just now.”

“And if I only pay one copper? The same price it’s always been?”

“Then you’ll get nothing.”

Will paid the two coppers for a meager ladling of the beef and vegetable stew. The other Traders, seeing themselves with no other options, followed suit. As they finished, Joseph, the carpenter, walked up behind them, handed the chef a single copper coin and received a generous portion of the stew.

Will looked at the chef and arched an eyebrow. “Another new price change?”

“What have you ever done for me, or for any of us?” the chef snapped.

In answer, Will reached up and grasped the rope controlling access to the overhead flowing water system. The chef’s eyes widened as Will gave a gentle tug, and the falling water saturated the chef’s clothing.

“Hey, Arthur!” Will called. “This guy’s doing a great job of making me feel unwelcome in the village. You should give him extra zirple or something to reward him! Or, better yet, give him the portion of somebody who’s not trying quite so actively to starve me and the other Traders.”

Will felt the dagger-like glares on his back as he walked away. There were some, his senses detected, who felt some doubt about the scheme. The shunning was almost like a game when discussed in the absence of the Traders; seeing Elizabeth threatened by Maynard, seeing Will and the others provided with such meager quantities of food, had made the game quite real, and the impacts quite dramatic. Yet the self-doubt didn’t translate into action. None of them wanted to risk their own wealth, health, or zirple allocation by speaking up or treating the Traders as they treated others.

Later that morning, the community came together, as they always did at the conclusion of a Trading mission, to settle up accounts. Will had recommended ordering purchases by profession and then by the purchaser, storing the wood-sliver receipt written in Eva’s neat script with the purchases. The settlement process had become far more efficient since then, but today would be a different story.

Eva had gotten into the habit of leaving the original wood-sliver receipts behind when they left to Trade. In the past year, they’d actually fashioned a large piece of wood, the equivalent of a modern-day billboard, and would tack each sliver up so that everyone could see what types of goods would be coming back. Eva would use those receipts and note total quantities and target prices on a single larger wood sliver – essentially a ledger – which made record keeping simpler. People would bring their receipts from the billboard when their groups were called, the Traders would note the price they’d gotten for sold goods or the amount paid for supplies and other purchased goods, and they’d figure out how much each villager was owed. Payment would be made, goods delivered, and when everything was done, the Traders would split the remaining profit equally.

They’d learn today that Arthur wasn’t above committing fraud to achieve his goals.

The first person to step forward was Joseph, the carpenter. Eva checked her list of transactions. “We sold 11 chairs for your team, Joseph, with a minimum price of eight silver pieces per chair—”

Joseph shook his head. “That’s not correct, Eva. This shows eighteen silver pieces as the target price.”

Eva frowned. “Let me see that.”

Joseph handed her the sliver of wood. As he’d noted, the sliver showed Joseph’s name, 11 chairs, and 18 silver pieces as the targeted price per chair.

Will frowned. “Joseph, this has been changed.”

Joseph shook his head. “It’s written down, Will. How could it be changed?”

Will pointed. “The number 1 in the target price is written by a different hand and with a different ink color than the rest of the letters and numbers on this. Someone added it after the fact.”

Arthur walked over. “Is something wrong?” His face was smug, and Will could immediately read his thoughts and emotions. Arthur had engineered this financial coup.

Will pointed to the receipt. “This was changed, Arthur. See how everything is the same black ink color except for the 1 in the number 18?”

Arthur looked interested. “Perhaps Eva ran out of ink while writing this?”

Will shook his head. “She wouldn’t go back and add in the number 1 afterward; if anything, the number 8 would be in the different ink color if that were the case.”

Arthur now frowned. “What are you suggesting, Will?”

“This was modified by someone, Arthur. Look at the three number 1s on this. The two in the black ink, in the 11 for the quantity of chairs, both have little slashes at the top. The one that’s part of the 18 is in the different ink color, but it doesn’t have those slashes. Someone else wrote that extra 1 in to raise the target price after Eva and Joseph created this agreement.”

Arthur looked at Joseph. “Did you change this, Joseph?”

Joseph shook his head. “No.”

“Do you remember agreeing to a price of 8 silver pieces or 18 silver pieces?”

“It’s been a long time, Arthur. I can’t remember.”

Arthur shook his head. “We have nothing to go off of other than this receipt, Will. Eva, you’ll need to use the receipt to provide Joseph with his earnings.”

This is ridiculous
, Eva projected. “We sold the tables for two gold pieces, or 20 silver pieces, each. Incidentally, I would have recorded the target price as 1 gold and 8 silver pieces each, not 18 silver pieces.” She scowled. “But since the deal is being altered, the Traders keep half of the profit, or 1 silver piece per table, rather than the six silver pieces per table actually earned.” Her eyes flashed. “Enjoy your extra money, Joseph. Make sure you buy something nice for whoever modified the receipt for you. I hear Arthur likes wine.” She slammed the coins into Joseph’s hands, and the man walked away.

Arthur fixed Eva with a stare. “Are you suggesting that we should trust your word and private notes over public records?”

“I’m suggesting we should accept the fact that what we just saw was blatantly altered, Arthur. Shall I just give you the entire bag of proceeds to distribute as you see fit, or are you quite interested in watching us suffer through watching each of our profitable trades turned into nothing?”

Arthur feigned horror. “Eva, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t blame me if your team is shown to be ineffective at their so-called profession.” He walked away, and his body language gave away his sense of triumph as much as any Empathy skill.

They worked their way through everything as usual, noting the telltale signs of forgery: the altered ink color, the extra ones added to create larger target prices, the modification of a 3 to an 8 to reduce the profit on a sale or a transaction. Eva had projected a profit per Trader of around forty gold pieces per Trader, even accounting for adding Elizabeth into the mix. In the end, they made only three gold pieces each. Eva handed out the coins to each of the Traders after they’d finished the distribution of money as defined by the altered receipt.

They walked to Elizabeth’s room, where the girl had elected to stay during the distributions. She’d reasoned what would happen, and hadn’t wanted to take part in the fiasco. In her sorrow, she’d passed the time by brushing her hair and changing her clothes, resembling now the radiant young woman who’d made such an impression in Richland. Her face clouded when Eva handed her the money from the trip.

“Thirty pieces of silver,” Will muttered.

Matilda, who had more education than the other Traders, allowed her face to curl into a wan smile. “Appropriate, isn’t it?”

“So, what do we do now?” Eleanor asked.

“We can leave,” Aldus said. “They’d love to have us in Richland. We could sell goods for the craftspeople there for as long as we like. We could even use that as our base and cross-trade between cities.”

Will nodded. “It’s a good plan, because there’s nothing—”

“I’m not leaving.”

All eyes turned to Elizabeth, to find her blue eyes flaming.

“Why?” Matilda asked, exasperated. “We’re not wanted here, Elizabeth. They’ll rob us of everything we own and see us starve to death. It’s a group not unfamiliar to violence and cruelty.” She fixed Elizabeth with a scathing look. “You, of all people, should be aware of that.”

Elizabeth’s face clouded, then turned stony. “Then leave. I’m not leaving for good. I’ll leave to Trade, but this will remain my home until the day I die.”

Gerald shook his head. “Don’t be naive, Elizabeth. If you stay long enough, someone’s going to grant you that wish. Maynard almost did not too long ago. Don’t expect to be saved again by his arm getting tired; next time, he won’t wait that long.”

Elizabeth folded her arms. “I’m not stopping you from leaving. I will not join you in leaving forever, however.”

Eva sighed. “Elizabeth, this is not a decision any us will make easily, one way or another. But we must all consider what’s in our best interest.” She hesitated, and there was a brief quiver of her lip. “Should the others decide to leave… I will join them.”

Elizabeth face filled with pain. “No,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone, Eva.”

Eva shook her head. “Our time here is done, Elizabeth. It is time to say our farewells, to say goodbye to what might have been. This community will destroy itself before long, and I for one want to be gone when it happens.” Her face clouded. “I only wish my brother had returned before we decided to leave.”

The other Traders all indicated an agreement with these sentiments. Elizabeth, her face still marred with the pain of Eva’s declaration, of learning that the woman who’d acted as the closest thing to a parent she’d had for many years was leaving, looked at Will, hoping to find some comfort. Will knew he would do exactly what she would do, for she was the reason he’d traveled centuries into his past.

Nobody else could know that, however.

“I promised you before, Elizabeth, that I would do whatever you asked me to do. And I think that extends to your decision here. I cannot help you if you are living in one village and I am living somewhere else. So… my decision is the same as yours. I will not break my promise to you.”

Eva nodded, appreciating his loyalty, though the others simply stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t understand, Will,” Aldus said. “The rules are being blatantly set up against us, even something as basic as the cost of food—”