Preserving Hope Page 20

  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 whispe
red. “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—”

  “That’s a good point, Aldus,” Will interrupted. “And regardless of whether any of us intends to stay or go, we’re owed an explanation.”

  “Will…” Eva said, her voice a warning.

  Will ignored her. “Excuse me, Arthur,” he said, raising his voice.

  The leader of the village looked his way, and frowned. “What is it, Will?” he asked, with an audible sigh.

  “I’ve noticed after this morning’s transactions that you’re exceptionally concerned with ensuring that agreed-to prices for various items are enforced. I think that’s very commendable, and it’s the sign of a true leader to ensure fairness for all those he leads.”

  Arthur beamed. “I’m glad you feel that way, Will. I agree, ensuring agreed-to prices are enforced is very important, and I want you to know that everyone — even the Traders — are covered under that directive.” His smile held layers of meaning, and Will was able to sense that Arthur’s greatest sense of triumph was his belief that Will was finally, truly, defeated as a leadership threat in the community.

  “I’m glad to hear that Arthur,” Will said. “For as a lowly Trader, I believe that I’ve been a victim of an agreed-to price being changed on me. This very day, in fact.”

  “Yes, Will,” Arthur replied. “We’ve been taking care of the problem your team has inflicted upon us with your incorrectly recorded prices for transactions.” Laughter greeted this statement.

  “It’s amazing how the writing on the altered numbers doesn’t match Eva’s handwriting, and how those numbers are written in different colors of ink. I’m certain that the problem will be investigated fully. We wouldn’t want everyone who lives here thinking that anything they write down might get changed on them if certain… conditions aren’t met. Perhaps we can have everyone here examine Eva’s handwriting on her private notes and the receipts stored publicly and decide for themselves if things look like they were written by the same person.” He paused. “Any reason we haven’t done that, Arthur?” He arched an eyebrow.

  There were some murmurs in the crowd, and Will sensed that quite a few people wondered about that. He heard a few whispers of people wondering if, perhaps, Arthur had forged the numbers that had just been processed. And more than a few wondered if they’d been dishonest in their dealings with the Traders. They considered the Traders to be thieves, but didn’t want to be seen that way themselves.

  Arthur, perhaps sensing that an examination of the evidence wouldn’t be in his best interest, changed the subject. “You said that there is a case of people not living up to agreed-to prices in the community that requires my attention?”

  Not subtle about his role here, is he? Will projected to Eva. “Yes, sir. Since my arrival, our chefs have always charged a copper for a full bowl of stew and a slice of bread.”

  Arthur nodded. “Of course. Nothing has changed there.”

  “That’s interesting. I was just this morning charged two coppers for a partial bowl of soup and no bread. I was told that the price had changed. And yet immediately after my payment, one of my neighbors received a full bowl of stew and bread for the usual single copper. That seems incorrect, doesn’t it?”

  Arthur smacked his forehead. “Oh my, I’ve forgotten that you aren’t aware of the new zirple discount, since you were away for such a long time. Since I receive the discount, I simply have forgotten how things have changed. You see, the price is now two coppers for a partial bowl of stew. However, for those receiving zirple, a special deal is in place, and they receive the old allotment for the old price. There is nothing amiss in your story.”

  Will laughed. “Spin it how you want, Arthur. Let’s tell the truth here, shall we? You want the Traders out, and you’ve managed to rig everything to make us into lesser citizens. The Traders, against all laws of chance, receive essentially none of the zirple through the lottery. The Traders find written records altered to ensure that profits from their trips are under reported, and they receive less; nobody else cares because they get what the Traders lose out on. The Traders, who remarkably receive none of the zirple, find themselves charged higher prices for food. The Traders, who have always been welcomed members of the various professions between Trading trips, and who have always worked hard and added value in those roles, are shunned and prevented from the opportunity to do anything to help this community.

  “And why is that, Arthur? It’s because you want the Traders gone, all of us, yet you realize you can’t tell everyone the truth. You fear the financial prosperity we’ve enabled here, which has nothing to do with your leadership, and nothing to do with the zirple. Consider this: if the zirple works as advertised, Arthur, wouldn’t it be better to have the Traders be part of this? Wouldn’t it be tremendously useful to have our Traders able to read emotions and thoughts, as this zirple is supposed to enable us to do, and then go trade, knowing you can tell exactly the best price?

  “Arthur, you believe that this is possible, and that this type of trading dominance is ideal — but only if done by the person who created the goods being sold. If you have others do that work on your behalf, you believe, those people are stealing profits, and as such those people should be shunned.”

  Will looked at the crowd. “And you all have come to believe that as well, haven’t you? Those evil Traders finally gone! Oh, happy day! You’ll get all of the profits on your sold goods! Isn’t that fantastic? But think about this. How many of you have ever traveled to another town, or another city? How many of you have ever tried to negotiate a price on a transaction? Here, the prices are set — well, unless you’re part of the current despised group of people and try to buy food, of course. That’s not how it works elsewhere. You’ll have no sense of what prices you might achieve, or even if you did, you’ll not know how to get agreement on a price. You think you can simply walk into a new town, divine the best price, and simply demand it and get it? Good luck. And while you’re gone, you can’t build anything else to sell. You’ll lose at least a week just traveling around. Think about that. You have to stop building chairs and swords and tapestries, because you have to load the carts, pack provisions, travel to the towns, buy and sell goods, pack everything up, and come home. One week, gone. But you’ll be tired when you get back, so you probably lose another two days preparing to travel and recovering. Nine days lost. How many chairs could you build in nine days, Joseph? How many swords can you make in nine days, Maynard? How many tapestries can any of you weave, how many kegs of beer or wine could you prepare? Each time you leave, you lose that many sales. Your skills will falter, and people will see a lesser value in buying your goods. Fewer goods produced, less profit per transaction. Think that sounds like a good plan?

  “So… do it. Cast the
Traders out of this village. Do everything yourselves. See how your money situation looks afterward. Oh, and don’t forget… if you’re not here, you can’t enter the lottery and get your zirple allocation. If the Traders are the only ones not winning the lottery, and they leave, then everybody has to win every day, don’t they? No point in buying fifty chances if you’re going to win every day only buying one, right? Still think kicking us out is a good idea? Fine. Tell us all to leave, and we’ll leave. No argument. No protest. Go earn all of that extra profit Arthur says we’re stealing from you.”

  He paused, then thought of something else. “Oh, and when we’re gone? Everything will be perfect, won’t it? All that profit, nobody consuming food you might want to eat. But it won’t be. Someone will become the next bad guy. Perhaps it’s the foragers, who just gather stuff up that’s fallen on the ground. Or the farmers: they plant seeds in the ground and then don’t do anything until harvest time, right? Pick a group; it will happen to one of you when we’re gone, because there must be someone to blame for any real or imagined problem, someone denied zirple through the lottery to keep everyone buying chances. By getting rid of us, you’re just increasing the chance that it will be you shunned instead. And don’t forget… you’ll have seven fewer mouths to feed, true, but you’ll have seven fewer people here to buy your food and other goods in this neighborhood. Who makes up the lost profits to the farmers and foragers and bakers and chefs when you eliminate one out of seven people who live in this village? But that’s okay. If they become poor, then they can be the next shunned group.”

  Will turned and walked away, heading to his room, where he could be alone. He didn’t need to turn and use his eyes, or his other enhanced senses, to know that the Traders followed him, heads held high, leaving many confused neighbors in their wake.

  Then he heard the crowd gasp, and this time he did turn around.