08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

It was a sea of business. Dangerous waters, swept by unpredictable storms, where fortunes could founder, enterprises be lost with all hands, reputations sink beneath the waves, but where a navigator with sufficient vision could be borne to spectacular success on the hidden currents of wealth and influence.

‘God works for those who work themselves,’ murmured Zuri, checking her watch.

She was ever at Savine’s shoulder, ready to guide the chaff away or, on occasion, make a note in her book for an informal meeting, perhaps an invitation to tea for the truly promising. Often at those pleasant interviews, she would make some passing observation about night-time habits, or questionable pasts, or illegitimate offspring, and how this or that scandal revealed might leave a promising career in ruins. There was almost no one worth noticing without a secret kept somewhere in her book. A dash of blackmail, tastefully administered, could always be relied upon to shift prices in the right direction. To win at this game, you had to keep one foot in the ballroom and the other knee-deep in the sewer.

‘To work, then.’ Savine put on her most radiant smile, snapped out her fan and glided down the steps into the melee.

‘Have you considered my proposal? Lady Savine? A new design for coal boats, if you recall? Both keels and colliers! We’ll put coal in every household, however humble. Coal is the future!’

‘My surveys show the hills near Rostod are riddled with copper, Lady Savine – why, you could scoop it up with your hands! Metals are the future!’

‘I only need to convince the owner of the land, a relative of Lord Isher, and I know you are a close confidante of his sister …’

Savine might wear a sword, but on this battlefield she fought with a fan. A conspiratorial tap with it, closed, could coax out smiles more surely than a witch’s wand. Snapped open with a flick of the wrist, it cut fruitless conversations off more sharply than an executioner’s axe. Deftly raised, with a curl of the lip and a turn of the shoulder, it buried men deeper than a spade.

‘Salt is the thing now, Lady Savine. Salt in quantity, for everyone. A partner could triple her money, within months, positively quadruple it …’

‘Clocks are the thing! Accurate clocks! Affordable clocks! The potential, Lady Savine, you cannot be blind to the potential …’

‘Why, a single word in the right ear at the Patent Office …’

One by one, she brought them forward with their schemes, their dreams, the light of certainty bright in their eyes. Her slightest smile lit their faces with delight. Her slightest frown doused them with horror. When she ended each interview with a snap of her fan, she thought of all the refusals she had endured, and relished her power.

‘With your contacts in Styria, your patronage could make all the difference …’

‘With your friends in the Agriont, it would only take an interview …’

‘The one thing I need is investment!’

‘Quintuple her money!’

‘Lady Savine?’ A woman, young, red-wigged, freckle-shouldered, with a way of peeking over her gaudy fan that was meant to be winsome but to Savine looked merely sly. ‘I am – forgive me – a tremendous admirer of yours.’

Savine had a whole queue of tremendous admirers, and no idea what gave this girl the right to jump it. ‘How charming.’

‘My name is Selest dan Heugen.’

‘Boras dan Heugen’s cousin?’ Self-important oaf that he was. It appeared to run in the family.

‘Only my second cousin,’ simpered Selest. ‘I fear I’m nothing but a tiny twig at the furthest reaches of the family tree.’

‘A prize bud just blooming, I am sure.’

Selest blushed in the manner of an innocent country girl out of her depth in the big city. It made Savine think of a bad actress in a bad play. ‘I knew you would be beautiful, but never dreamed you might be so kind. My father left me some money and I intend to invest it. Might I ask whether you have any advice?’

‘Buy things that go up in value,’ said Savine, turning away.

‘Lady Savine dan Glokta.’ A small man with curly hair and clothes that advertised both money and tasteful restraint. ‘I had been hoping to make your acquaintance.’

‘I believe you have the advantage of me.’

‘Certainly not in beauty.’ He was unremarkable, it was true, apart from his bright eyes. They were different colours, one blue, one green. ‘My name is Yoru Sulfur.’

It was rare indeed for Savine to hear a name she had not heard before, and it always made her curious. New names meant new opportunities, after all. ‘And what is your business, Master Sulfur?’

‘I am a member of the Order of Magi.’

Savine was not easily surprised, but she could not stop her brows lifting at that. Zuri usually shepherded the cranks away, but she seemed for once to be elsewhere. ‘A wizard at a meeting of investors and inventors? Are you scouting the enemy?’

‘Say rather that I am seeking new friends.’ His smile was full of clean, sharp, shiny teeth. ‘We magi have always been interested in changing the world.’