Our grav-skiff carried us in, and we stepped out amid clusters of tall, thin, gowned traders from Messina, merchants from Sameter in ludicrously heavy hats and veils, and obese bankers from the Thracian hives.
I strode ashore and turned to offer Bequin my hand. She nodded courteously as she left the skiff. I hadn't briefed her much. The aristocratic airs and graces were her own spontaneous invention. Though I still loathed her, I admired her more with each passing moment. She was playing things perfectly.
'Your name and business here, sire, madam?' a Guild Sinesias chamberlain asked as he approached us. He was dripping in finery, gold brocaded gowns attiring every servant in the place. Augmetic implants blistered in place of his ears and he clutched a slate and stylus.
'My name is Farchaval, a merchant from Hesperus. This is Lady Far-chaval. We come to tender grain contracts with the high houses of this
world, and we are told Guild Sinesias will provide us the necessary brokerage.'
'Do you have a guild responser, sire?'
'Of course. My contact was Saemon Crotes.'
'Crotes?' the chamberlain paused.
'Oh, Gregor, I'm so bored/ Bequin suddenly announced. This is so, so very slow and dull. I want to cruise the canals again. Why can't we go back and deal with those spirited fellows at Guild Mensurae?'
'Later, my dearest/ I said, delighted and wrong-footed by her improvisation.
'You have already… visited another guild?' the chamberlain asked quickly.
'They were very nice. They brought me Solian tea/ Bequin purred.
'Let me escort you both/ the chamberlain said at once. 'Saemon Crotes is, of course, one of our most valued envoys. I will arrange an audience for you forthwith. In the meantime, please relax in this suite. I will have Solian tea sent up directly/
'And nafar biscuits?' cooed Bequin.
'But of course, madam/
He swept out and closed the double doors of the luxurious waiting room behind him. Bequin looked at me and giggled. I confess, I laughed out loud.
"What got into you?'
You said we were monied merchants who expected the very best. I was just earning my salary/
'Keep it up/ I said.
We looked around the room. Gauze-draped windows ten metres high looked out over the Grand Canal, but they were insulated to keep the noise out. Rich tapestries dressed the walls between Sameter School oils that Maxilla would have loved to own.
A burnished servitor brought in a tray of refreshments soon after that. It lowered it onto a marble-topped occasional table and trundled out.
'Solian tea!' Bequin squeaked, lifting the lid of a porcelain pot. 'And nafar biscuits!' she added with a smile, through the crumbs of the first one.
She poured me a cup and I stood by the fireplace, sipping it, striking an appropriately haughty pose.
The guild representative flew in through the doors a moment later. He was a small, spiky-haired man with flowing gowns and far too much jewellery. The Guild Sinesias brand mark was proudly displayed on his forehead.
He was, the brand indicated, property.
His name was Macheles.
'Sire Farchaval! Madam! Had I known you were visiting, I would have cancelled meets to be here. Forgive my tardiness!'
'I forgive it/ I said. 'But I'm afraid Lady Farchaval may be fast losing her patience/
Bequin yawned on cue.
'Oh, that is not good! Not good at all!' Macheles clapped his hands and servitors trundled in.
'Provide the lady with whatever she requests!' Macheles told them.
'Ummm… vorder leaves?' she said.
'At once!' Macheles instructed.
'And a plate of birri truffles? Sauteed in wine?'
I winced.
'At once! At once!' Macheles yelped, shushing the servitors out of the room.
I stepped forward and put down my cup. I'll be straight with you, sir. I represent grain merchants on Hesperus, a significant cartel of grain merchants.'
I handed him my holo-dent. It was fake, of course. Betancore and Aemos had run it up, using Aemos's profound knowledge in general and his knowledge of Hesperus – gleaned from interviews with Maxilla – in particular.
Macheles seemed impressed enough by my identification.
