Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 419 of 619

By morning the tavern crowd had thinned. Ajax ate bread at the lodging table while Tucker Hoskins worked the room one last time, buying a round for two old sellers near the door. He came back grinning, gold chains loose on his chest. "Got a name," Tucker said. "There's one man who moves goods in and out of the Crossing. Everyone trades through him. You want steel or grain to sell here, you talk to him first." Marco Valentino set down his cup. All morning he had listened past the noise, reading the thoughts men didn't speak. "They're afraid of him," Marco said. "Not the way you fear a thief. The way you fear the man who decides who eats." He looked at Ajax. "He keeps the council in his pocket." The man's house sat at the market's edge, a wide timber hall with two guards at the door. Tucker went in first, easy and loud, telling of a ship he'd lost off the coast. The guards let them pass. Inside, a heavyset man sat behind a long table stacked with ledgers. He did not rise. He wore rings on every finger and a fur collar too warm for the room. "You're the ones asking after me," he said. His voice was flat, bored. "Traders don't come to the Crossing. They come to me." Ajax stayed standing. "I have steel and grain. Furs. Fine cloth. I want to sell here." The man laughed once. "Everyone wants to sell here. Few are allowed." He leaned back. "What's your price, and what's your cut for me?" Marco stood at Ajax's shoulder. He watched the man's face, then tapped Ajax's arm twice. Truth. The man wanted trade, not a trick. Ajax named a figure. He offered the man one part in ten of every load that came through. The man's eyes moved to the fur samples Tucker laid on the table. He rubbed the cloth between two fingers. "This is northern work," the man said. "I can't get this here." He was quiet a moment. "One part in eight. And I'll take your goods before any other trader sees them." Ajax held his stare. "One part in ten. And you send no one to my dock. My men come to you." Marco tapped once. A lie forming. Ajax waited. The man weighed it, then spread his ringed hands. "Fine. Ten. Your men come to me." Marco tapped twice. They shook on it. The man called for wine and named the days he'd receive shipments. Tucker settled the details, quick and warm, already a friend by the door. Outside, the market roared on. Ajax had his inland buyer now, a walled town with no king and no questions. His silver and steel could move here, far from the port's eyes. But the man held the council, and now he held a piece of Ajax too. Every load through the Crossing paid a stranger who could sell him out.