Intrigues: Book Two of the Collegium Chronicles (a Valdemar Novel) by Mercedes Lackey Page B

Heralds. All three colors were expensive and difficult to dye—or, in the case of Heralds’ Whites, to bleach and keep pristine white. All three were, as a consequence, immediately recognizable at a distance. And all three would be very, very hard to counterfeit properly, in no small part because they were expensive. People who were trying to pull scams generally spent as little as possible to do so. It wouldn’t be impossible for someone to try, but it would be unlikely.
    Even Lydia’s gown was not the brilliant green of Healers’ robes, but a much more muted, darker color.
    She set the ball of wool—dyed to match in the same batch as her dress, she had told him—down in the basket at her side, put another skein on his outstretched hands, and began winding again. “Well, the first thing is, according to my maid, Chamjey isn’t going out at an hour when his wife wouldn’t miss him. When he goes, he’s dressed very quietly, not his usual style.” She made a face, which told Mags that the “usual style” was probably flamboyant and ostentatious. “A man going to see a new mistress would dress up to impress her. He doesn’t bring any presents, either, which a man with a new mistress does. But the big thing is that Chamjey’s wife is sporting some very expensive new presents herself, and she is looking uncommonly satisfied about them. Now, that might mean that Chamjey has a new mistress, and his wife is getting expensive gifts in an attempt to mollify her. But that only works if the wife is perfectly happy with her husband going off with another woman. That’s not true of Mira Chamjey; she is very jealous, and if she knew about a mistress, she would scalp him and skin the woman. So he is bribing her, but it’s not to let him have his fun.”
    Mags nodded, now very glad that he had come to Lydia before he had scouted the ground himself.
    “So—” he prompted.
    “I think it’s a business deal, and I think it’s one that’s underhanded, and I think he’s trying to work it through a third party.” Lydia nodded decisively, the ball of wool growing in her fingers as if by magic. “The fact that he is trying to do it through a third party makes me fairly certain he thinks he would be in trouble if he got caught at it.”
    “See now, tha’s where yer losin’ me,” Mags admitted. “I dun see how a sharp deal could get a man in trouble wi’ Crown.”
    “It depends on what kind of a sharp deal it is,” Lydia replied. “Suppose—just suppose—someone had had an absolutely accurate idea of when that blizzard that caused us so much trouble this winter was going to strike, how long it would last, and how badly food and wood supplies would be hurt until everyone dug out. First of all, it would be his duty to report that, so that all of Haven could have gotten prepared. But let’s just suppose that he didn’t. Let’s suppose that instead, he got several warehouses and filled them up with staple foods and firewood and didn’t sell them until just before the blizzard was going to hit. And then he opened them up and began selling things at twice their normal value, and once the blizzard hit, then sold them at three times their normal value. That would be a sharp deal, but it would also get him in a lot of trouble.”
    Mags nodded. That made sense.
    “There are other things, too, that’s just one example. So have you got any ideas?” she asked.
    “Think mebbe. Reckon I’d better be right careful ’bout how I follow ’im. It’ll be hard t’ do it the usual way. This street ain’t crowded, so I’d stand out no matter what I looked like.” He scratched his head. “Round here, ev’ servant has house uniform, an’ ye cain’t jest wander about ’less ye got the right uniform, or ye look like ye belong here.”
    Lydia tilted her head to the side. “If that’s all that’s stopping you—” then she paused. “No, that wouldn’t work, would it? If Chamjey is doing something underhanded, seeing