Trader's Honour

Chapter 1-2

Mother said, “I saw Eydrina a few days ago, and she said some lovely things about your progress at the hospital. I don’t understand why you would want to leave. You’ve been extremely privileged to get the opportunity to work with her. So many girls would love to take your place.”

Mikandra screamed inside, Then let them!

She hated the hospital and its cold and clammy corridors filled with never-ending tides of misery. She hated how the majority of health problems of those poor people would go away if only the council got its act together and installed windows and heating in the city’s housing apartments. Or gave the homeless a place to shelter at night so they wouldn’t be attacked by maramarang in the streets.

But saying those things aloud was Not a Proper Thing to do for a girl. Because Mother was right: many girls would love the opportunity. Because girls were supposed to like caring for sick people and not question the causes of their sickness, because simply caring and being compassionate was in their gentle natures or some thing like that. And failing to Care, without question, for the Unfortunate meant that you were a heartless and mean person.

If Father insisted on hearing the obvious stated to his face so that he could get Officially Angry, Mother loved to make her feel guilty.

And both of them were still waiting for her reply, her all-pervasive reason that justified the diversion from the path that they had set for her. The reason was too big to be explained in a few words, especially if those few words were Because I hate everything I’m allowed to be. The only thing she could think of saying was, “Because I want to see more than just this city and I don’t just want to travel for the sake of travel. I want to do something useful for Miran.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they sounded dumb and what was more, had nothing to do with the real reason. And that real reason was much deeper than anything she could put into words.

Sitting at the table in the Ilendar house—where Father didn’t like her to be, because having boys as friends was inappropriate and because he had some unspoken feud with the Ilendar Trading family.

Listening to Lihan’s father talk about his experiences at the academy.

Hearing the stories of how his father signed huge and important deals. Because of Aithno Ilendar, the council could afford to build new schools. Because he sold staple foods to Asto—yes, gasp, the home of the Coldi people—and quarried Mirani marble to the master builders of Damarq. The turnover was massive. Real money, which, when he paid his council levies, enabled the council to do real things.

The reason that she applied was also because, while she sat there at the Ilendar’s table, she could feel the implied assumption that Lihan would follow in his father’s footsteps. Because he was a boy, because that was the easy path for him, because he’d been conditioned from birth for the fact that he’d have a successful business and live comfortably.

And she felt like shouting What about me? Because assumptions about her future involved the theatre or the hospital.

Father snorted. “See, that is why young girls are not fit to make decisions like this. You do things for frivolous reasons. Trading is not a frivolous occupation.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t. Young daughter, you have no idea. You will be slaughtered at the Trader Guild headquarters. Kicked, quartered, sliced to tiny emotional pieces and packed up in a box. They’ll bully and pester you until you run home in tears. You do not half understand the profession. Go and talk to my sister and hear her stories. Listen to what she says about the infighting, the bullying, the backstabbing, the politics, the murders . . .” His voice had risen with each item he’d listed and he needed to pause for breath. “There are a lot of Traders who become so disheartened that they just vanish and are never seen again, leaving their families and their countries nothing except a trail of debt. Because you wanted to travel indeed.” He blew out a forceful breath through his nose. “How come they even selected you?”

He picked up his spoon and stirred his soup.

Mikandra clutched the envelope under the table. She felt very small and very stupid. How come they selected you? She wondered that herself. Surely there were many candidates who were traditionally more worthy. To get selected, she would have had to have been approved by the majority of Mirani Traders. Beyond the Andrahar brothers, who would have voted for her?

Mother said, her eyes pleading, “I thought you had a good chance of becoming someone important at the hospital. Eydrina was going to recommend you for surgeon training.”

Mikandra shrugged, feeling closer to tears than she dared admit. She’d wanted this since she was a little girl, damn it. Since seeing Aunt Amandra come to the house in her uniform, since hearing her stories about travel and other worlds. Since Aunt Amandra had spoken so eloquently about the opportunities that existed in Trading for women, since they were better at maintaining networks similar to the Coldi social networks. And if you understood the Coldi, and they respected you, many doors opened for you that were normally closed.

“I am stunned by your audacity,” Father said into the heavy silence. “I will be talking to Iztho Andrahar.”

Mikandra looked up sharply. He was going to do what? “Why? It’s his decision to sign me on.” And why should Iztho Andrahar care about what some self-important Lawkeeper thought?

“Because I want him to understand that you’re not going, and I can’t believe for one moment that he signed the application with full knowledge of what he was doing.”

What? “Why wouldn’t he?”

“The Andrahar family is very traditional, and would assign their succession in the line of the oldest son of the oldest son. So, if it is true that Iztho signed for your training—”

“—why won’t you believe me?—”

He raised his voice. “—If it is true, then their intention is to use you for a bridging period until he has a son only to cast you out later, or . . . some other reason.”

“Lots of Traders use bridging employees. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He glared at her. “Whatever his reason, you are not going.”

“But why? It’s my life and my decision. It’s not as if I’m going to get married and—”

“How would you buy your own business? How would you pay for an office, for an aircraft, for Exchange fees, even before you’ve started earning anything? If you think that we are going to pay for that—”

“Asitho, please.”

Father glared at Mother. His face had gone red and now slowly resumed its normal colour. He put the letter down and pushed his plate onto one of the corners. “I’ll deal with this after dinner.”

He started eating. The only sound in the room was the clinking of the spoon on his plate. Mikandra looked at her mother without raising her head. She met Mikandra’s eyes, her spoon half-raised to her mouth. Her expression said, Did you really need to do that? Mikandra felt like shouting Why do you let him do this to you?

Mikandra then looked at Liseyo. She had also started eating, meek and pale. She had barely moved during the discussion and had her gaze firmly fixed on her plate. Her cheeks were so pale and poking from the sleeves of her severe dark red dress, her wrists were so thin that Mikandra often wondered if she was healthy, and wondered if Eydrina Lasko had already put her hand up her private parts or if she was still too young for that. And maybe Father had realised that he would never have a male heir and he was disappointed with Mother for not giving him any sons and angry with his eldest daughter who refused to behave like a good girl should.

Embarrassing indeed.

Mother deserved better than this. Liseyo deserved better than this.

She started eating as well, although her stomach felt like a big knot. However, that only lasted for the first couple of bites. She never had any time to eat in the hospital, and she was hungry. Eydrina was always saying that she was much too thin.

Most of dinner went past in the company of only the popping of the fire in the hearth and the soft clink of spoons on plates.

When Rosep decided it was safe, he came to clear the plates and brought bread and eggs. He met Mikandra’s eyes briefly and glanced at the letter under Father’s plate. He collected all empty soup plates, except that one. Questions hovered in his expression. Even if he hadn’t heard what had been said—and he wasn’t the type who listened at doors—he’d been with the family since she was a small girl, and knew how arguments went. Father won, even if he lost.

Mother filled the uneasy silence with small talk about the theatre. The company was taking on the classic play of The Invasion, and now it was time to think about the new costumes. She cast a few pointed looks at Mikandra, and suggested that the girl who played the role of the legendary Tinandra Elendar wasn’t very good, and oh did you know that are some vacancies in the choir and we could really use a contralto to back up the old woman who has trouble keeping time?

Also Your sister plays in it as well and it would be so nice if we could make it a family production.

And We got Genny Manudrin to do the costumes and the dresses will be gorgeous.

Mikandra grew more and more annoyed with the chatter. As usual, Mother was glossing over the big issue that hung over their heads, or rather, that was written on a letter underneath Father’s plate. Ignoring it and hoping it would go away.

When dinner was finished, Father rose, and Mikandra rose after him, as custom dictated. He went over to the door and took his cloak off the hanger. He looked like he was going to go back to his office.

“Father, wait please.”

He stopped with his cloak halfway to his shoulders.

“Can I have my letter back?”

Father looked at her and didn’t move.

Her heart thudding, she continued, “I need the number that’s on the letter for the reply.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I said you’re not going.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Because if I thought it was appropriate for a young lady to go to a place such as the Trader Academy—which I do not—you would be working with my sister. Her refusal to sign you should have been a sign for you.”

“She is busy with her council work.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that was the reason she gave you.”

Mikandra met his eyes. No, it hadn’t been the reason and she wasn’t going to be untruthful about it. She hated it when Father did this.

“You are thankless and ungrateful for everything I, your mother and Eydrina Lasko have gone out of our way to do for you. I and your aunt are working very hard to protect our ways and our nation. The Andrahar brothers would open the floodgates for foreign Traders and businesses and destroy Miran. They’d pillage us. They’d dig up our mountains and raid them for minerals. They’d build huge factories and fill them with guest workers. What do you think my colleagues and your aunt’s colleagues, notably Nemedor Satarin, would have to say about your joining the very people who are trying to bring us down? That is the embarrassment, if I have to spell it out to your face. You are not going.”

“I still need the letter.” She bent over the table, snatched the letter from under her father’s plate and ran for the door.

“Wait a moment, young lady!” The floor vibrated with his steps. His hand closed on her upper arm.

From close up, he was terrifying. His typical narrow face, his ice-cold light-blue eyes. His long straight nose, his long straight hair, platinum white. All prime characteristics of the Endri. She could see the veins in his eyes, the pores in his skin. Pearls of sweat glistened on his upper lip. The nails of his carefully manicured hands dug into the soft flesh underneath her upper arm.

“Asitho,” said her mother, quietly in a soft pleading tone.

Father sniffed, and continued as if Mother hadn’t spoken. “Clearly, I failed to make myself clear to you. Being of the Endri is about being grateful and giving back to our city and those less fortunate than us. It is not about running off to some foreign place and spending lots of money there, and taking all the money out of our city and wasting it on frivolous pursuits. If, despite my strong advice, you decide to go, expect no financial help from me or your mother, or my sister. You will also be stricken off the list of owners of the family estate and you are no longer welcome in this house. You understand?”

She glared at him, and he glared back.

“Asitho, leave it,” Mother said. “Let’s talk it over later.”

“No, we will not, because she will not listen. Not now and not later. I have no idea how I’ve ended up with such a brat for a daughter. Everyone has been far too accommodating with her all this time. She should have been married last year and taught manners.”

“I thought we covered the marriage issue,” Mother said.

Liseyo was looking on from her seat, her eyes wide like those of a scared animal.

Father glanced aside. “Did we? I don’t remember that. I must get back to it.” His nostrils flared. Oh yes, he remembered when they’d last broached the marriage issue, when Geonan Takumar had visited, looking for a young girl. To amuse me he’d said, while undressing Mikandra with his eyes. And later, Mother had pleaded Mikandra to take up the position in the hospital Because he will marry you off to that old creep if you don’t take it.

“Can I go? You’re hurting me.” Mikandra looked pointedly at her arm in Father’s grip. She would have another nasty bruise next to the one from last week. “I’m not a toddler.”

“Then don’t behave like one.” But he let her go because hurting your wife and daughters was also not part of the honour code.

Mikandra rubbed her arm. While still meeting Father’s eyes, she stuffed the letter between her breasts in the bodice of her dress.

Then she ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time, through the hall, scrambled into her room and slammed the door behind her.