Feathered Dragon - Douglas Niles [18]
Were they not the highest centers of culture and learning-indeed, of civilization itself-to be found among the Realms? True, the recent advances of nomadic horsemen, raging from the great central steppe, might give this smugness a short jolt. And of course the great oriental nations of Kara-Tur offered certain amenities not to be found here on the Sword Coast…
But still, the center of everything that mattered couldn’t be declared to be elsewhere, at least not by any rational individual.
The serene merchant princes of the Council of Amn considered themselves to be very rational indeed. Masters of all within their borders and influential over important matters without, the six anonymous men and women who ruled the mighty southern kingdom expected obedience and performance from those in their service.
Amn, a nation of traders, shippers, buyers, and sellers, controlled its empire not by the might of its swords nor the range of its catapults, but by the power of its gold. Governed by the six princes, all of whom kept their identities carefully concealed, Amnite trade extended across all the known Realms and worked its way toward unknown reaches as well.
These princes had invested a great deal into the expedition of Captain-General Cordell and his Golden Legion. More than a year had passed since the departure of that legion on its quest for gold over the western seas, and as yet no profits had found their way to the princely coffers.
Now the princes, each meticulously masked and robed, met in private session to discuss the disappearance of Cordell and-more significantly-the potential loss of their investment. The domed council chamber was darkened as usual, a further aid to the masquerade.
At last the golden doors opened softly and a courtier entered.
“Don Vaez is here,” said the silken-dressed attendant.
“At last,” rasped one of the princes from beneath his-or, perhaps, her-dark mask. “Send him in.”
In moments, a tall figure passed through the door, removing his broad-brimmed hat with its ostrich-feather plume in a sweeping bow. The man stood erect again, a thin smile playing about his lips. He was smooth-shaven, with long blond, almost white locks that fell about his shoulders.
“Ah, Don Vaez, you may do us a great service,” murmured another of the princes.
“As always, I exist to serve,” offered Vaez, with another courtly bow.
“Indeed.” The prince’s sexless voice dripped with irony. “You know, of course, of the Golden Legion’s expedition to the west?”
“Naturally. A great promise lay upon it. I trust there has not been,… trouble?”
“For long months, we received steady messages through the Temple of Helm here in Amn. The Bishou, chief cleric of the mission, provided good reports. It seems that our expectations of gold were met, even exceeded, in this land Cordell had claimed for us.”
Don Vaez’s eyes gleamed, but he remained silent.
“Several months ago, however, these messages abruptly ceased,” offered another prince, in a higher but still subtly masked voice. “We have reason to expect the worst.”
“That explains many things,” replied the adventurer. None of the merchants made any response, so Don Vaez continued. “Two dozen carracks gathering in Murann, companies of harquebus, crossbow, and horse. Even some of the veterans of Cordell’s legion, those that did not sail with him to the west. The rumors that Amn has decided it needs an army…”
One of the princes raised a cautious hand. “We do not need an army, not here. But quite possibly such a force will be required in order to see a proper and deserved return on our investment.”
“Do you suspect that Cordell has betrayed you?” inquired Don Vaez sympathetically. He now knew why he had been summoned to appear before the council. He knew, and he was well pleased.
“We do not know. Perhaps he ran into greater difficulties than he anticipated; he took but five hundred men. Now we will send nearly three times that number on his trail. We know, through the temple, what course he sailed, even where he made landfall.”
The air seemed to grow heavy in the room for the space