Steven Brust - Orca

“What is it?” I said.

“Eh? Oh, nothing, Kiera. I’m just impressed—I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“The deception or remembering the details?”

“Both, actually.”

I shrugged. “And how was your day?”

“Much shorter, much simpler, much easier to report, and probably more mystifying.”

“Oh?”

“In a word: they’re closed.”

“Huh?”

“Gone. Finished. Doors locked, signs gone.”

“Who is?”

“All of them: Northport Securities, Brugan Exchange, Westman—all of them.”

“The whole building?”

“About three-quarters of the building, near as I can tell—but all of the companies that were part of Fyres’s little empire are gone.”

“Verra! What did you do?”

“I went to City Hall—remember, you saw me there?”

“Yes, but for what?”

“Well, the building was still open; I thought I’d find out who owned it.”

“Good thinking. And who owns the building?”

“A company called Dion and Sons Management.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “And they’re located right in the same building, and they’re out of business, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So much for bright ideas.”

“Well, what now, Vlad?”

“I don’t know. How can they sell the land if the company that claims ownership doesn’t exist? If they can’t, we could just forget the whole thing right now; all we’re really trying to accomplish is to keep the old woman on her land. But I’m afraid that, if we do that, someone will show up—”

“Is that it?”

“What do you mean and why are you smiling?”

“I just have a feeling that you’re hooked on this thing now—you have to find out what’s going on for its own sake.”

He smiled. “You think so? Well, you may be right, I am curious, but you show me some proof that our hostess here is going to be able to keep her lovely blue cottage and I’ll be gone so fast you’ll only feel the breeze.”

“Heh.”

He shrugged. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you curious?”

“Oh, heavens yes. That’s a big part of why I signed onto this. But I’m willing to admit it, and you—”

“Yeah, well, ask me again tomorrow and I might give you a different answer. Meanwhile—”

“Yes. Meanwhile, what next?”

“Well, any interest in starting at the top and trying to find out who in the Empire is behind all this?”

“No.”

“Me, neither.” He thought for a minute. “Well, I’m not sure if I’ve gotten anywhere with the daughters, so we can’t count on that for anything, but we’ve got one foot in the door with our dear friend from the Tasks Group—thanks to you. And we’ve got another foot in the door with the Jhereg—thanks to you. So how about if we try for a third foot—anatomically interesting, if nothing else—and triangulate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Finding this bank that closed down.”

I thought it over. “Not bad. Just keep worrying away at different sides of the problem and see what gives?”

He spread his hands. “That’s all I can think of.”

“It makes sense. Do you want me to do it?”

He nodded. “I think you’ll be more effective dealing with bankers than I will. I’m going to hang tight right here, and see if I can do Savn any good.”

He said it conversationally, but I could tell there was a lot of tension behind the words. I spoke lightly, saying, “Yes, that makes sense. I’ll see what I can find.”

“After lunch,” he suggested.

Lunch, on this occasion, involved a loaf of bread which was hollowed out and filled with some kind of reddish sauce that had large chunks of this and that in it, featuring pieces of chicken with the skin but without the bones. Savn sat at the table with us, eating mechanically and appearing, once more, oblivious to everything around him. This dampened the conversation a bit. It seemed odd that Savn happily used the knife in front of him to eat with and didn’t seem at all put out or unduly fascinated by it, but the ways of the mind are strange, I guess.

I suggested to Vlad that if the Jhereg really wanted to find him, all they had to do was keep track of garlic consumption throughout the Empire. He suggested that I not spread the idea around, because he’d as soon let them find him as quit eating garlic.

Then we got onto business. I said, “Mother, you said the bank closed?”

She nodded.

“Which bank?”

She glanced at me, then at Vlad, opened her mouth, closed it, shrugged, and said, “Northport Private Services Bank. Are you going to rob it?”

“If it’s closed,” I said, “I doubt there’s any money in it—or anything else for that matter.”

“Probably,” said Vlad. Then he frowned. “Unless ...”

“Unless what?”

“I’m remembering something.”

I waited.

He said, “That gossip sheet, Rutter’s Rag, said something about the banks.”

“Yes?”

“It made a point of how quickly everyone got out of there.” He turned to Hwdf rjaanci. “Do you know anything about that, Mother?”

She said, “I know it closed down fast. My friend Hen-brook—it was her bank, too, and I don’t know what she’s going to do—anyway, she was in town that day, and she said they were open just like usual at thirteen o’clock, and at fourteen there were these wagons there—the big wagons, with armed guards and everything—and by noon it was shut up tight.”

Vlad nodded. “Two hours. They took two hours to clear the place out.”

Hwdf’rjaanci agreed. “They had a hundred men, and wagons lined up all down the street. And the other banks, too, went the same way, at the same time, near as I can tell.”

“In which case,” said Vlad, “they can’t have done a very good job of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean clearing things out. They were in a hurry to be gone before their customers got to them, and—”

“Then why not seal things inside?”

He shrugged. “Too much sorcery floating around. Get people mad enough, and at least one of them will be able to tear down the building.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll buy that. But do you really think it likely that there’s anything still in there?”

“Oh, I doubt there’s any money in it, but you never know what might be left behind.”

“You mean, papers and things?”

He nodded.

“If they went under, wouldn’t they be careful to clean up anything worth looking at?”

“How much time would it take to clean up every last scrap of paper, Kiera? Could they do it in two hours?”

“Probably not. But all the important ones—”

“Maybe. But maybe not. I don’t know how banks operate, but they’re bound to generate immense amounts of paperwork, and—”

“And you’re willing to wade through immense amounts of paper, just to see if there might be something useful?”

“Right now, any edge we can get amounts to a lot. Yeah, I don’t mind taking an evening to go through their wastebas-kets—or, rather, papers that missed the wastebaskets—and see if there’s something that points us anywhere interesting.”

I thought it over for a minute. “You’re right,” I said. “I’ll look around and get what I can; it should be easy enough.” I turned to Hwdf rjaanci. “Where is it?”

“In town,” she said. “Stonework Road, near the Potter’s Field Road.” She gave me more precise directions.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll look around it today. Since you’re so used to going to City Hall, can you—”

“Find out who owns it? Sure.”

“But just get the name and address.”

“Right. I should have cooked some vegetables to go with this.”