As the waiter hurried off, Lender said, ‘As you are pardoned, you obviously do not need my services as a solicitor, so perhaps you need them as a litigator?’
Erik said, ‘Not really. I came to pay you your fee.’
Lender began to object, but Erik said, ‘I know you refused to take gold before, but despite your having lost the pleading, we are here and alive, so I think you’re entitled to your fee.’ He produced his money pouch and put it upon the table. It clinked with the heavy sound of gold coins.
Lender said, ‘You’ve prospered, young gentlemen.’
‘It’s a payment for services from the Prince,’ said Roo.
Shrugging, Lender opened the purse, counted out fifteen golden sovereigns, then closed the purse, pushing it back toward Erik. He pocketed the coins.
‘Is that enough?’ asked Erik.
‘Had I won, I would have charged you fifty,’ said Lender as the coffee arrived.
Roo had never cared for coffee, so he sipped at it, expecting to put aside the cup and ignore it. But to his surprise, instead of the bitter brew he had tasted before, this was a rich complex taste. ‘This is good!’ he blurted.
Erik laughed and tried his, then said, ‘It is.’
‘Keshian,’ said Lender. ‘Far superior to what is grown in the Kingdom. More flavor, less bitterness.’ He waved his hand around the room. ‘Barret’s is the first establishment in Krondor to specialize exclusively in fine coffees, and as a sign of his wisdom, the founder placed his first shop here in the heart of the Merchants’ Quarter, rather than trying to sell to the nobility.’
Roo instantly came alert; stories of success appealed to him. ‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘Because the nobility are difficult to approach, expect extreme discounts, and rarely pay in a timely fashion.’
Roo laughed. ‘I’ve heard that from the wine merchants at home.’
Lender continued. ‘Mr Barret knew that the local businessmen often needed a place away from their homes or offices where they could discuss business over a meal, without the distractions of an inn’s taproom.’
Erik again nodded, having spent a fair part of his life in the taproom of the inn where he had worked as a child.
‘So was born Barret’s Coffee House, which prospered from the first week it was opened. Originally a more modest enterprise, it has existed for nearly seventy-five years, in this location for close to sixty.’
‘What about the brokers, and syndicates, and … you?’ asked Roo.
Lender smiled as a tray of hot rolls, breakfast meats, cheeses, and fruits, along with pots of jam, honey, and butter, was brought to the table.
Suddenly hungry, Roo took a roll and slathered butter and honey on it while Lender answered him. ‘Some of those without offices of their own used to conduct business all day long and, to keep Barret happy, would buy coffee, tea, and food in a steady stream. Seeing this as a pleasant alternative to hours of empty tables between meals, Mr Barret ensured certain tables would remain reserved for those businessmen.
‘They formed the first syndicates and brokerage alliances. And they needed representation’ – he put his hand upon his chest and bowed slightly – ‘hence litigators and solicitors became habitués of the establishment. When things became crowded, the son of the founder moved to this inn, tore out the third floor, and created the exclusive members’ area above, and things have continued that way since.’ He motioned at the second rail. ‘Some members were forced to use this end of the ground floor, hence the newer railing. Now one must purchase a location in the hall for one’s syndicate or brokerage, or risk not having a table at which to sit when arriving to conduct business.’
Glancing around, he added, ‘You now are in the heart of one of the most important trading centers in the Kingdom, certainly the most important in the Western Realm, and rivaled only by those in Rillanon, Kesh, and Queg.’
‘How does one become a broker?’ asked Roo.
‘First you need money,’ answered the litigator, not in the least put off by the youngster seeking instruction. ‘A great deal of money. This is why there are so many syndicates, because of the great cost of underwriting many of the projects that are conceived of here at Barret’s or brought to us from the outside.’
‘How does one start?’ asked Roo. ‘I mean, I have some money, but I’m not sure if I want to invest it here or try my own hand.’
‘No partnership will admit an investor without good cause,’ said Lender. He sipped his coffee, then continued. ‘Over the years a complex set of rules has evolved. Noble-men often come to Barret’s seeking either to invest wealth or to borrow it, and as a result, the interests of those here who are commoners need to be closely protected. So, to join a syndicate, one needs a great deal of money – though not as much as to become an independent broker – and one also needs a sponsor.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Roo.
‘One who is already a member of Barret’s or who has close ties to one of the members who can vouch for you. If you have the capital, then you need the introduction.’
‘Can’t you do that?’ asked Roo, obviously eager.
‘No,’ said Lender with a slightly sad smile. ‘For all my influence and position, here I am but a guest. My office has been here for nearly twenty-five years, but only because I work on behalf of nearly thirty different brokers and syndicates, and I have never placed a copper piece of my own capital at risk through any offering.’
‘What’s an offering?’ asked Erik.
Lender put up his hand. ‘There are more questions than time, young von Darkmoor.’ He signaled to one of the ever-present waiters. ‘In my property box you’ll find a long blue velvet bag. Please bring it here.’ To Erik and Roo he said, ‘I enjoy the break from the routine, but time doesn’t permit a leisurely discourse on the business at Barret’s.’
Roo said, ‘I plan on being a broker.’
‘Do you?’ said Lender, and his face lit up with delight. His expression wasn’t mocking, but he seemed to find the pronouncement entertaining. ‘What is this venture, then, that you spoke of?’
Roo leaned back. ‘It’s a plan I have that would take too long to speak of, I’m sorry to say.’
Lender laughed while Erik blushed at his friend’s bold freshness. ‘Well said,’ answered Lender.
‘Besides, added Roo, ‘I think discretion is in order.’
‘Often that is the case,’ agreed Lender as the waiter returned with the requested item. Lender took the velvet bag and opened it, removing a dagger. It was a deftly fashioned thing, with a sheath of ivory set with a small ruby and bound at the top and tip with gold. He handed it to Erik. ‘It was the other part of your legacy from your father.’
Erik took the dagger and pulled the blade from the sheath. ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘I may not be as well practiced with weapons at the forge as I am with horseshoes, but this is fine work.’
‘From Rodez, I believe,’ said Lender.
‘Best steel in the Kingdom,’ agreed Erik. The blade was embossed with the von Darkmoor family crest, finely cut into the steel, and yet it was well balanced, both decorative and deadly. The hilt was carved bone, perhaps from the antler of an elk or moose, and capped with gold to match the sheath.
Lender pushed back his chair. ‘Young sirs, I must be back to my business, but please feel free to linger awhile and refresh yourselves. If you ever have need of a solicitor or a litigator, you know where to find me.’ He waved vaguely at the place from which he had appeared and added, ‘Goodbye. It was good seeing you well.’
Erik