ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/stories/business/business.2

Internet Message Format | 1991-03-08 | 31KB

From [e-mail] Mon Nov 26 21:17:21 1990
From: [e-mail] (Jeff Stehman)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp
Subject: Story:  Taking Care of Business (ii)
Keywords: Taking Care of Business
Date: 26 Nov 90 18:02:40 GMT
Organization: Clemson University, Clemson, SC




            Taking Care of Business


The coach came to a stop and Silk climbed out.  He had chosen this
place as it was near his apartment, but still had heavy traffic.
    "Good day, my lord!" called the coachman.  "Has been an
honor!" With that the coach rolled away.
    Silk allowed himself a secret smile, then took a deep, free
breath.  "Ah, back on the streets again," he thought happily to
himself.  "Gods, how I hate this part of town!  Well, first things
first."
    Silk entered the closest tavern and, after a pint and some
grub, headed home.  He gave his apartment a very thorough search and
rigged a few complications on the door and shuttered window, then
allowed himself a bit of a nap.  As evening approached, it was time
for his rounds.  O'Malley's Place topped the list.

"Silk!  I really wasn't expecting to see you tonight, 'cept down at
the Moor's to identify the body.  We was told about your coach ride
this morning."
    Bartenders, like thugs, always seemed have a strange sense of
humor, recalled Silk.  He proceeded to the bar and ordered a jar of
house wine amid, "good to see ya" and "glad you made it" from several
of the patrons.  As he took a drink Slick walked in with one of his
light-fingered girls; an occasional source of business for Silk.
    "Silk!" called the bawd.  "I heard you was dead!"
    Silk shook his head and muttered to the bartender, "And I
thought none of you cared."
    "Actually, we have been discussing who we would let take over
your turf."
    "Already, huh?  No matter, your just doing what you have to.
Nevertheless, it sounds like an interesting topic of discussion.  Let
me rephrase that; I would like to know what individuals you find
acceptable, and why.  Please continue the discussion, by all means."
    "Sure," replied O'Malley.  "First off, we like you, we like
your style...  we like the fact you only have one eye.  It gives you a
blind spot and makes ambushing you easy, should we ever have to take
you out."
    Before Silk could react to that revelation, O'Malley
continued.  "Now then, Oglethorpe here has been contemplating a step
up in life.  He seems to think you have things fairly easy, not
actually having to do any of the, ah, manual labor, if you know what I
mean.  He's pretty sure he could gather a few clients to start life
off, and go from there; and we're pretty sure that, what with his
gimpy leg and all, we could run him down if need be.
    "On the other hand, there's Narts the Flea from dockside.
He's got the experience, got the connections, and is real easy to
intimidate if you can catch him alone.
    "Buster nominated Rasputan, who pretty much works Broadway and
also has a few connections around the university.  Terrence here
doesn't like that one though; said he's been overworked and acting a
bit quirky of late.  Besides, I don't really like his name; something
in my gut tells me this guy would be hard to take out..."
    When that seemed to end the list of prospective freelance
fences, Silk turned to Terrence, for whom he occasionally moved goods.
"So what are your connections with Rasputan?  And what do you mean by
`overworked and acting a bit quirky'?  I don't like the sound of
that."
    "My connections are just that," replied Terrence as he took a
sip.  "And by overworked I mean that he has been running around a lot
lately; always in a hurry, has more drops than usual, etc.  As for
quirky, maybe he's just sucking on zip.  I had a drop with him the
other day and, well, he was acting paranoid.  His eyes were jerking
all over the place and he was very tense.  I didn't get a good look at
his tongue to see if it was blue, but that's the last time I'll use
him; zip makes people crazy and I don't like having meets with crazy
people.  Things are dangerous enough as it is."  He gave Buster a bit
of a nasty look across the room.  Taken back, Buster wandered over.
    "What's your problem, boy?" Buster inquired of Terrence.
    "My problem is your anchor, flicher.  He's a freaked out,
drug-sucking, worm of a fence who's gonna' burn himself and take all
his contacts down with him..."
    "Why you..."  Bam!  Poof!  Bip!  Pow!  Oof!  Pop!  Ow!
    "Whap!  Whap!  Whap!," replied the bartender's stick, and
order was soon restored.  Buster's face was kind enough to open the
door for Terrence, though not wide enough to keep his shoulder from
ramming the doorjam before he rebounded into the street.
    "Hotheads," grumbled Silk.  "Hmmm..."  Narts was believed to
be family in one way or another, although nobody really seemed to know
how, or even which family.  He lived among the docks, near the western
bridge between the mercantile district and downside.  Silk lived near
the eastern bridge; on the good side, like Narts.  Contact between the
two was practically nonexistant; Narts did not walk Silk's streets,
and pretended not to see Silk when he was down dockside.  Not that
fences were all that territorial; Narts just did not like stepping on
people's toes.
    As for Rasputan, he worked a piece of the Emperor's Highway
and bits of the university; a fair distance from Narts and Silk.  Back
in his bawdish days, Silk had worked with Rasputan, once.  One of
Silk's clients had the misfortune of being mugged in a back alley (he
had the strange notion that it was the best way to get to Betty's
Place).  There had been a bit of argument over the split, but it had
been resolved nonviolently.  Shortly after that Rasputan started
selling insurance to shopkeepers and that was the last of their
relationship.
    Silk turned his attention to Oglethorpe.  Once a burglar, and
supposedly a clever one, although somewhat lacking in skill,
Oglethorpe had broken his leg.  Now he was little more than an
opportunist; he did not get too many opportunities, either.
Oglethorpe had always had bad luck.
    "Is the back room in use?" Silk asked.
    "Nope."
    Silk tapped Oglethorpe's arm lightly with his walking stick.
"Follow."  The fence took a lamp from its hook and led the way into
the back room.  Once inside, he closed the door and set the lamp on
the table.  Seating himself on a bench, he and motioned for Oglethorpe
to do the same.
    "I prefer to stand, thank you very much."
    "Very well.  Then I suggest that you start by telling me why
you think you've got what it takes to take my place, Oglethorpe."
    "I think you've let all this attention go to your head, Silk.
You may be street wise, but you're not too smart.  I don't think it
would take too much to take over your operation.  If I set up shop
next to you I'd put you under in no time, especially now.  Your base
is home grown, yet you let yourself to be seen doing business uptown.
Now, merchandise has to be moved, but the locals don't want to know
about that part.  To them you should be nothing but a sinkhole; the
simpler it is, the more comfortable they are."
    "You have just stated the ideal business practices; lemme see,
do I have a feather for your cap?  I am well aware of the risks of
being seen.  We live in an imperfect universe, Oglethorpe, and as you
said, merchandise must be moved.
    "It sounds like you have been thinking of this career switch
for some time.  My demise could have been quite a break for you.  As
it stands, you are back to square one.  Almost.  I can see that you
have figured out the strategy of the business.  The hard part is in
the execution, the details.  If you want to put on a new hat, I can
help you along, teach you the fine points, but I will require a price.
Interested in hearing more?"
    Oglethorpe sat down with a sigh.  "I'm listening."
    "That's better.  As you have noted, there are drawbacks to
doing everything yourself.  Notably that the exposure necessary to
dispose of goods is a liability when it comes to acquiring the same,
and vice versa.  A two man arrangement can work much better, with one
person devoted to servicing the supply and the other satisfying
demand.  If a person was motivated to learn the trade, such a person
would be useful as an assistant.  Furthermore, as the assistant became
more experienced, he would make a valuable partner, associate, or
contact, whichever was most acceptable to both parties.  Of course the
down side is that you have to trust somebody other than yourself."
    Silk was silent for a moment, then prompted Oglethorpe; "Your
move."
    Oglethorpe took a deep breath and gave the cord a couple of
tugs.  A moment later O'Malley stuck his head into the room.
    "Set 'em up again, please."
    Oglethorpe wore a blank stare until the drinks were brought
in.  After draining half of his mug in one pull, he smiled a bit.
    "Right, I'm interested, but I want to know a few things.
Which end do I work?  What is my cut in the beginning?  What is my cut
in the future?  How much do we divorce our ends from each other?  I
mean, we are going to have to find a line that satisfies trust and
security; does the right hand wash the left, or does it not know what
the left is up to?"
    Silk looked Oglethorpe over; the thief had a few hard years on
Silk.  "You got much coin Oglethorpe?  One of the harder things about
starting out is having an adequate supply of coin."
    "I have next to nothing; this extra drink was a splurge,"
Oglethorpe said with a shake of his head.
    Silk nodded.  "That would tend to suggest that it would be
easier for you to sell than to buy.  However, selling requires a more
delicate touch with customers; a touch that matures with experience.
Thus, I should work the sales end of things.  Picking up goods tends
to be easier.  You have some clients lined up?  I mean, I am capable
of working both sides of the street.  Hmm, looks like there are a lot
of reasons to set things up either way."
    "I was thinking of having a chat with a few of the boys here.
I know a few other petty thieves; worked with a fair number of them in
my day.  None of them were big time, but then, I'm not fool enough to
try and start out big.  A rep is important, and that takes time.  Hmm,
if you are wanting to kind of fade out of the business, perhaps I
should 'steal' your clients; that was my original intention."
    "Sounds like you have a good start on acquiring sources.  Just
be careful.  If you plan on `stealing' my feeds, make sure you do it
when I'm not around, and don't do it in this tavern.  I know I don't
need to tell you this, but I will anyway: be discreet."
    Silk took a few moments to think things through.  "I propose
that I dispose of merchandise, and that you work acquisitions.  I
think that the easiest way to exchange material will be for you to
continue your guise as a thief in these parts, making drops like we
have always done.  Agreeing on a price for goods could be the
difficult part.  The problem is one of trust or security, however you
wish to view the problem.  On one hand, I can pay you at the time of
the drop.  You would then be sure of your profit, and I would be
speculating on the outcome of my later deals.  The price you would
receive would reflect the size of your cut.  The other way is to split
the price of each piece once I had disposed of it.  I tend to prefer
the former, even though it may pose problems for me later.  It
encourages excellence in both of us.  Even so, the latter scheme would
probably work well while you are getting set up.
    "In the beginning, you will probably need money.  I will
supply you with a reasonable amount until you are established.  Until
then, and until you have paid off the advance, your cut is nix.  You
can pay off the advance with coin or with time.  Your `wage' would
depend in part upon the volume of business you bring in.  After the
advance is paid off, you would receive a fifth-share of the take while
we operate closely.  Once we split and start negotiating prices
instead of splitting the total take, we would aim for a price that
would double your share to two fifths.
    "I think that I will have to continue working both sides of
the street for a while, but if you are right about how people view my
visibility, supply should switch to you naturally."
    "Can you give me some kind of time table?" asked Oglethorpe.
"Also, are we ever going to be looking at a fifty-fifty cut someday?
I mean, to stay competitive you don't want to have us doing much
haggling; it would add yet another middleman to the line."
    "I have no objection to a fifty-fifty split with an equal.
Make it that far, and we'll have another little chat like this.  And I
think that you're right about haggling.  It adds overhead and fosters
mistrust.  The efficient way to do things would be to work together.
I plan to start out that way in the beginning; we'll see how it works
out.  Now then, before you go, one last question: How well do you know
Narts or Rasputan?  Have you had many drops with either of them?"
    "I have had a couple of exchanges with Narts.  Nothing really
notable.  However, I have heard that if you need to get something out
of the Empire, or even Old World in general, he is the man to see.
One thing; I've heard him, drunk, uttering oaths that were not of our
tongue.  Perhaps he has a run to Araby?  Hmm, that makes me think...
have you ever heard of him moving slaves?  That would make the
connection a sure thing.  If you're serious about checking up on him,
you might look into that.  As for Rasputan, I don't know anything
about him.  I guess I've heard that name once or twice before, but
that's about it."
    Silk filed the information away for future reference.  "Well,
that should do it.  I'll see what kind of cash I can put together for
you to get you started.  I'll let you know when its ready."
    Silk made a final round through the tavern and then went home.
It had been a long day.  That night his sleep was filled with dreams
of garrots and jewels.

"William said he would be in touch," muttered the fence to himself.
"Let's just hope that the touch won't be the hilt of a blade...  or
worse."  Silk sat on the edge of bed (or so he prefered to call it)
and rubbed his throat uncomfortably.  With such pleasant thoughts in
his mind, he began to plan the day's events:
    "Lemme see.  I have to scrape together some cash for
Oglethorpe.  Shouldn't take long.  Problem is that it will require
most of what I have just to convince him that I don't need him as
badly as I really do.  That's the easy stuff, though.  I've got to
find out who set me up and fast.  Rasputan looks to be the likeliest
candidate, but if he has strong magic on his side, I could be toast in
short order.  Looney too.  Just what I wanted, another chaos
illusionist."
    Silk's mental ramblings were quickly interrupted by a growl
>from his stomach.  He rose and seized his coat, patting down the
places where he kept his wares to reassure himself of their presence.
After disarming the door, he gripped his walking stick tightly and
left the room to begin the day, immediately setting out for the main
market of Altdorf.  There he would not only find good food, but it was
also the most likely that place to find a mark, er, customer.  He
hoped be able to liquidate some of his holdings without being bled to
death by those vampires in the jewelry stores.
    After obtaining some bread, fruit, and cheese for his meal,
Silk wandered around the marketplace, paying some attention to those
hawking semi-precious goods and to their customers.  He took the time
to look over goods that they were peddling, checking for anything out
of the ordinary, or anything that might actually be worth purchasing,
impossible as that may be.
    The market was business as usual; too many people and nothing
worth buying.  However, after a couple of hours of milling about, Silk
did overhear interesting tidbits of conversation between a hawker of
cheap jewelry and a man who, by appearances, was a moderately
successful artisan.  The latter was apparently inquiring about higher
quality and discount prices.  Disappointed, he was forced to move on.
    Silk followed the artisan discretely, checking him out.  When
his quarry came to a usable spot, Silk bent over, pretending to pick
something up from the street.
    "Sir, is this yours?", asked the fence, flashing a broach.
    After only the slightest hesitation, the man slapped a hand to
his breast, and looked surprised at not finding a broach their.
    "Why yes it is!" he declared, reaching for the broach.  "Thank
you my good man."
    Silk closed his hand on the broach.  "Such a beautiful piece
of decor must be worth at least a hundred crowns," he said in a
quieter voice.
    "Hmmm, it was a gift and I am not aware of its purchase value.
And it seems I have taken it so for granted that I cannot recall its
exact composition.  A reward is understandable, but I must refresh my
memory," replied the artisan with a hint of a smile.
    "'Tis truly a thing of beauty.  It would have been a shame to
lose such a lovely gift," Silk stated as he opened his palm to reveal
the trinket.  He paused and then continued, "If I might make bold to
suggest the amount of compensation, 50 crowns seems not unworthy."
    "Hmmm, why don't you bring it by my shop in about an hour.
I'm a tailor on Straight, just off the Emperor's Highway.  The Gin
Emporium is on the corner; mine is the next shop.  In good faith, you
may keep my broach until then.  At that time perhaps I could study it
further and we could reach some agreement.  And if you happen to find
my necklace, that would be of even more interest to me, I think;
especially if it matched my broach.  Good day, then."  With that the
tailor turned and again entered the crowd.
    "What a stroke of good fortune!" thought Silk.  He passed the
time until the meeting wandering around the market, although all he
found worth purchasing was a brace of apples.  Silk arrived at the
tailor's a few moments before the appropriate time and examined the
layout.  Then he entered the shop.  Up front was a work area that was
arranged somewhat for show; an apprentice sat in each corner,
tailoring away.  Beyond that were many bolts of cloth and three
full-size mirrors.  There was a curtain wall between the two areas,
although the curtains were only pulled halfway; just enough to give
the apprentices a good backdrop without closing off the rest of the
store.  There was a doorway in the back wall with a curtain across it.
    Silk was greeted by the tailor and ushered through the
curtained doorway; the fence noted a real door on the far side,
although, judging by the junk in the way, it apparently stood open all
the time.  Through the doorway was a more serious workroom, plus a
desk, a couple of doors in the back wall, and a staircase leading up.
The window behind the desk was shuttered, but three lanterns sat atop
the desk, illuminating it well.  A small strongbox sat on one end of
the desk.
    "Let's see what all you've found, shall we?" inquired the
tailor as he sat behind the desk.
    "I regret, good sir, that I was unable to find the necklace to
match your broach," Silk explained as he took his seat and set the
broach on the desk.  "However, this pendant is quite striking.  It has
always been a favorite of mine."  He unfolded a piece of black velvet
and held the prize up to the light.  "If you feel that the combination
might be too bold, then you might consider this ring in combination
with either the pendant or the broach."
    The tailor showed little interest in either the broach or the
ring, but seems quite taken with the pendant.  Silk caught a momentary
gleam in the artisan's eye before he put on a mask of indifference.
"I seem to remember this piece," he said as he examined the pendant.
"Now then, about the reward..."
    "But of course.  I think that 75 in gold should be adequate."
    "Hmm, I had a cutting retort all prepared, yet you start off
at a reasonable price.  Less than a gem merchant at least, but still a
bit high.  How about 50 crowns."
    Silk smiled.  "I like to think myself a reasonable man.  Even
so, I was hoping for a bit more than 50...  What say you to splitting
our difference?  I would still be doing you a service at 65."
    "How about a even split, say 63?  That will even give you an
half crown."
    "Agreed.  Might I do you another service in the future?"
    "Unlikely," replied the tailor as he opened the strongbox and
produced a pouch.  Dropping the pouch in front of Silk, he took out
another, opened it, and began counting out more coins.  "Unless you
have another type of service in mind.  Still, if you drop by from time
to time to make use of my services, it is not inconceivable that you
may again catch me in a mood to please my wife.  Ah, thirteen," he
said as he dropped the last coin in front of Silk.  "That, plus the
fifty in the pouch, settles our account."  As he closed the strongbox
and took possession the pendant, adding, "I shall hardly be
disappointed to see you; 'twas a smooth deal."
    Silk scooped loose coins into his own pouch and took a brief
look at the contents of the other pouch.  As things appeared
satisfactory, he doffed his hat saying, "The feeling is mutual.  Until
we meet again."  With that he stood and made his way back to the front
room.
    The tailor followed him through the curtain, calling out, "I
am sorry about the delay, sir.  It is the first time I have failed to
complete an order on time in years.  Please try back next week.  I
assure you there will be no charge."
    Silk nodded and left the store, smiling; he loved the antics
of amateurs.  Twas a smooth deal indeed; Silk had nearly recovered the
value of the pendant, yet it had cost the tailor half what a jeweler
would have charged.  Silk liked making money and he liked making
friends; good business.

Silk gave the streets a quick once-over, looking for Buster and
Oglethorpe.  Not finding either one, he stopped in at O'Malley's to
rejuvenate his strength.  Buster was there, and Oglethorpe hobbled in
while Silk was still order his drink.
    "Wouldn't you know it," thought Silk.  Drink in hand, he took
a seat at Buster's table.  "G'day.  Mind some company?  Ooh, how's the
head?" Noticing that Buster was getting a bit dry, Silk signaled the
bartender to bring another of whatever it was that Buster was
drinking.
    "Murmur, murmur, mumble, mumble..."  was Buster's only reply
to Silk's questions.
    "Heh.  I'm not surprised," said Silk.  Then he cut through the
crap, "You throw most of your stuff Rasputan's way, don't you?  I'm
just curious to know why.  Does he pay better than me, or what?  Mind
you, I'm not trying to muscle in on his business, but I've been
wondering why you work for him, yet spend most of your time hanging
around here."
    "Truth be known," Buster replied in a rather cold fashion.
"You folks around here are slower and dumber than most.  Your purses
tend to dangle free and the strings cut reeeal easy.  Oops," he added
as he nonchalantly knocked over the drink that had just been served to
him.  "So clumsy for a flicher," he added as Silk leaped to his feet
to avoid the flood.
    "Is there something that you want to say, or are you finished
dicking around?" Silk demanded loudly.
    Buster glanced past the fence, carefully set the mug upright,
stood, and walked out the door.  As Silk's eye followed him, he notice
that O'Malley was not polishing a mug, but his stick.
    "What was that all about?" asked the barkeep as Silk wandered
over.
    "Buster exhibiting his usual good manners," replied the fence.
"I don't mind him being rude, but dumping a perfectly good drink like
that is downright immoral.  I do despise waste."  After taking another
pull from his mug, Silk indicated his need for more.  "And draw
yourself one, O'Malley.  I won't have my generosity spoiled by the
likes of him."  Another pull.  "Hmm.  Just got an idea.  I get tired
of going for my purse every time I get thirsty.  How 'bout I pay you
in advance and you just tell me when it runs out?"
    "Suits me," replied O'Malley after downing a pint with one
pull.  "And I don't think you have to worry about Buster's bad manners
for a while, least not in my dive."
    "Good.  Here's two crowns for grub and ale.  Stew smells good
today.  I think I'll have a bowl."
    When the food brought to the bar, Silk took the bowl and his
mug and headed for a table near the back.  As he passed Oglethorpe,
Silk gave his partner a nod.
    "G'dafternoon Oglethorpe.  How are you today?" Finding a table
to himself, Silk sat down and commenced with his supper.
    Oglethorpe lightheartedly limped over and plopped himself
down.  "I'm doing okay," he said with entirely too much chipper.
"You, on the other hand, are another story.  Judging from all your
scampering around in here the last few days, I'd say you have more
oars in the water than you know what to do with.  Careful; if you try
to use them all you'll tire yourself out and not go anywhere."  He
paused to take a drink, then added in a quieter tone, "Or sink."
    "Much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right; now that I
think about it.  That's something that I haven't been doing much of in
the past couple of days: thinking, except about one thing.  I've got
to find out who arranged for my little ride the other day, before they
arrange for another..."  Silk looked at his stew, then forced myself
to take another bite.  "I hope O'Malley never quits brewing beer."
After a few more bites Silk decided he could not handle it on his own.
"I could really use some help with this.  There's only so much I can
find out with my own eye and ears without losing them.  And I could
use someone with brains."  He paused a moment over a troublesome piece
of meat.  "Grissle.  Yum.  Got something for you."
    "Surely you're not refering to the grissle.  I was hoping for
something more clinkish."
    "Oh, that too," Silk replied with a smile.  "Is this
sufficiently private?  If not, I'll join you in back after I have
finished my supper.  You said something about starting small; how
small is small?"
    Oglethorpe just shrugged and rose from the table.  "I'll see
you in the back room."

"I was hoping for a couple hundred crowns.  Considering how I'd like
to start out, that should get me through five or six buys, but I want
to be able to cover a couple of larger ones, should the opportunity
arise."
    "A couple hundred?!?  You planning to give it away?" Silk
buried his head in his hands.  "Sorry about that, I sometimes forget
what it takes to get started.  Truth of the matter is that I can't
spare that kind of gold right now.  I can sell off more of my stock,
but as you pointed out, I'm making a spectacle of myself as it is," he
finished with a sigh.  "So, six buys.  How much time is that?  I can
give you what I've got now: 30 crowns.  That should get you one piece
easily, two if they're small.  I might be able to get more, but I
don't want to hang around the market; too much visibility."
    "I'll take the thirty, but you gotta' move your stock, 'cause
when I start making buys I'm going to be turning the merchandise over
to you, right?  Surely you have a way to move bulk."
    "Yes, I can move bulk, but that cuts into my profits.  Our
profits, I guess.  Profits, right.  Did you have any clients in mind
when you started thinking about taking this up as a career?" Silk
asked, trying not to sound to hopeful.
    "Yes, I had clients in mind.  I gave you a general run down
yesterday, as a matter of fact.  Silk, I think you need to take a
vacation."
    "Okay, okay!  But I can't take a vacation, now can I?!  Gods."
Sigh.  "I remember you talking about who you were going to buy from,
but not who was going to buy from you.  If you give me the names
again, I'll make a round tomorrow, and then dump whatever doesn't sell
itself.  Are you going to be able to do anything with the thirty, or
should I hold on to it?"
    "As for who I was going to sell to, that's the one part I
never really got around to figuring out.  It was next on my list,
though.  I thought you where asking for who I was buying from."
    "I didn't think that I was that far gone.  We've been using
the word `client' in different ways.  I think of those who I sell to
as clients, and you seem to think of those you buy from as clients.  I
guess they're both clients in a sense, just on different sides of the
fence."  Silk tossed his purse to Oglethorpe.  "Here you go.  I think
there's a sixpence in there too.  I'll have enough tomorrow to bring
you up to a hundred.  You should be able to acquire some decent pieces
then.  Once stuff is flowing, increasing your base should be no
problem.  Oh, before you go, would you mind telling me how much this
is worth, and what you would pay for it."
    Oglethorpe studied the ring for a moment, then, "It is worth
sixty, sixty-five crowns.  What would I pay for it?  Twice that from a
jeweler, but if you mean as a fence, twenty crowns, hoping to get
forty out of it at the other end."
    Silk nodded.  "Right.  Now then, we need to meet sometime
tomorrow so that I can get some more cash to you.  Here is nice, but
three days in a row might attract attention.  Is the east bridge okay,
or do you prefer another location?"
    "The bridge will do just fine.  As for time, I got no plans at
the moment; simply name it."
    "See you at sundown."

Silk sat in Jonathon Livingston Steinman's plush office, awaiting the
merchant's verdict on the merchandise.
    Jonathan's brother, Richard, had once occupied this same
house, but had swapped estates with Jonathan the year before; why,
Silk never found out.  A few days before the move, Richard called a
meet with Silk.  The merchant had burned Silk, robbing him of nearly
eight hundred crowns, the largest sum Silk had ever had at one time.
"Nothing personal, my good man," Richard had said as they parted, "But
I could use the extra coinage to help in the move."  The next night
Silk, along with a few acquaintances, had infiltrated this vary house,
pulled Richard from his bed, and dumped him in the river; sink or
swim, the gods could decide.  Silk had also collected what was due
him.  "Nothing personal," Silk had explained.  "But I can't have my
rep ruined like that, now can I?"
    Knowing good business sense when he saw it, Jonathon's first
move upon reaching town was to make contact and peace with Silk.
Since then, the two had been good for each other.
    "Hmmm, I make the total value of all five pieces to be 330
crowns.  I'll give you 150 for the works."
    Steinman had an excellent eye.  He also was not much on
negotiation, but it was worth a try.  "150?  Let's try a different
combination.  I'll keep the gem and the chain; they might be useful
for bribes.  That leaves you with the necklace, broach, and ring.
Given your previous offer, that scales down to, um, 110."
    "100 even."
    "I hate going to another fence," thought Silk.  "Deal."

Later that day two rogues met on the bridge.
    "Ah, sir Oglethorpe," Silk called to his partner.  "I have
something I believe you will be interesting in.  'Tis a book of
considerable enlightenment, 'though 'tis nearly a hundred pages in
length," Silk explained as he handed Oglethorpe a small, flat bundle
of carefully wrapped coins.  "Enjoy."


                        Jeff Stehman