The Fifth Coin

Screaming slammed into the stone walls of the Record Room and careened into the hall before fading. The marketplace was buzzing with fish sales, crustacean bids, and shark displays. The scream must have come from a child finding themselves face to face with a massive dead shark, their first experience viewing the killers of the deep sea. Raleen Estavar had overcome the smell of both fresh and not-so-fresh fish some time ago, when she first moved to Firden. Even the noise that often reached her second-floor window had become nothing more than white noise. But this sudden eruption of a scream from a seven-year-old girl caused Raleen to twitch. A pencil left her hand in a hurry and crackled along the wooden floor. Raleen unwillingly tossed two coins into the air, immediately grasping for them. One was kind enough to collapse on the desk. The other rolled onto the floor, Raleen close behind.

“Damn you!” Raleen said to the coin.

The coin rolled along, searching for a gap in the planks. Raleen sprawled, bending on her knees and reaching out desperately. Coins are law, she thought, coins are truth. She didn’t consider the possibility of someone entering and finding her in this unwomanly position. Just as the coin narrowed down its trajectory for a coin-sized gap in the pine planks, Raleen snatched it up, holding the gold like an insolent child. 

She returned to her desk, walking briskly in her new brown pantaloons. She allowed herself just one or two new clothing items each year, prioritizing saving for a move to the capital. A fresh pencil and a sigh later, Raleen refocused on her ledgers. First, there was the provincial ledger, documenting all trades and sales. This was the official document mandated by the Empire. As the official record keeper, Raleen often marked in pencil before finalizing with ink. The second ledger from the merchant ship Winded Quill sat nearby so that Raleen could read without moving her head. 

The captain of the vessel, Alon Deras, delivered the ledger this morning upon docking. He was almost good looking, patched up baggy pants and oversized billowing shirts did nothing to hide his muscles. Alon, like many captains, wore his dark hair long. His eyes were the most striking feature, barreling into Raleen’s with the force of a gale. But his mouth was full of yellow, stinking teeth and cheeks scarred by sword fight wounds. Raleen had accepted the ledger with few words, sticking to protocols, despite Alon’s lingering glances.

Now, her own lips pursed and eyes judging, Raleen zeroed in on entries in the ledger. Alon Deras, in small, lightly scribbled strokes, marked his haul of official parchments, pens, ink, and several books. Each line item included the value and sale price, as well as the quantity. For a moment, Raleen paused, waiting for someone or anyone to knock on the door to her noisy office. Nothing. 

Raleen pulled open the second drawer of her desk and withdrew her own private ledger. It looked identical to the official ledger, but inside told different stories: inconsistencies, false numbers, forgeries. Raleen rubbed her fingers over the runaway coin while she searched for the last entry from the Winded Quill. There, between the lines and hidden around numbers, Raleen saw the disputes. She cursed them. False numbers meant lies and corruption. She flipped the coin. Her fingers continued to rub. 

Her eyes narrowed, her fingers stopped moving. It wasn’t the issues in the ledgers, discrepancies and falsehoods. That was easy to read. No, there was something else. Raleen brought the coin to her face, close enough where she could have licked it. She rubbed the center of the coin again, searching for the rough patch of official gold coins. Instead, it was smooth, ground down by someone. Raleen grabbed the magnifying glass at the corner of the desk and inserted it between her eyes and the coin. She closed her left eye, scanning the sections of the coin. The Archduke’s clean face with the phrase Aurum est Lex – gold is law – on one side. On the other, Raleen looked for the tiny royal seal in the top half. It wasn’t there. She looked more, peering into the very gold fabric. Still, no seal, and the center roughness did not exist.

Raleen stood, tucking her private ledger under an arm. She slipped the forged coin in the secret compartment of her purse. She checked her person, assuring she had everything. Satisfied, Raleen left her office, closing the mahogany door behind her. She moved swiftly through the hall towards the Governor’s Office. Raleen disliked meeting with Governor Beltran Ruiz. His last words to her had been, “Do what you need without bothering me.” He could hardly be bothered to do anything that improved anyone else’s life. 

The Governor’s iron door was meant to intimidate government employees and locals.  Two men in light armor guarded the entrance with pikes. Raleen heard the governor’s buffoon like laughter. Polite chuckles followed. Raleen took a deep breath, preparing herself to be shoved off like a ship with lepers. Why do I bother? She asked herself. Raleen knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Governor Ruiz demanded.

Raleen pushed the heavy door, stepping into the expansive room. Chandeliers hung from the raised ceiling. The floor was covered with rugs from far off regions. Ruiz had a story for each one, his favorite pattern of grey triangles and blue lines came from the mountain city of Andaval. This rug had traveled the realm: cotton from the fields in Shadowi, manufacturing in Eastpoint, and design from Andaval’s elders. This rug lay at the base of Ruiz’s throne. The governor was surrounded by advisors, traders, and several he didn’t recognize. Most had glasses of wine. Raleen saw Alon Deras among them. Deras eyed Raleen and smiled knowingly. 

“Record Keeper, what brings you here?” Governor Ruiz did not smile.

“Governor, I have a matter that requires your attention and some privacy,” Raleen said, stepping further into the room, yet still not near the swarm of people.

“Now?”

“Well, the matter should be solved in a fairly timely manner.” Raleen was nearly on the outskirts of the governor’s assembly of people. Deras moved to allow Raleen access to the governor. She nodded a thanks.

“You would ask me to send my friends away and talk business.” 

“I won’t take long, governor.”

“We can return when the business is over,” Deras offered. He gulped the last of his wine and set the empty glass on a table. Others followed his lead.

“Our conversations will resume shortly,” Governor Ruiz said, escorting his guests to the door, whispering something Raleen didn’t catch, “this little inconvenience will not last.”

When the door had closed behind the last of the governor’s entourage, Ruiz returned to his throne. He plopped down and called for his cupbearer. Raleen waited for her boss to announce his readiness. Ruiz eyed Raleen. He found her repulsive. The feeling was mutual. Raleen felt for the coin in her purse. She waited, faking the patience she had lost for her boss long ago.

“What is this matter that required privacy?” Beltran Ruiz broke the silence, insolent as a child.

“Governor,” Raleen hesitated briefly, “I have found discrepancies in some of the logs.”

“There’s always going to be differences in paperwork. That’s the nature of handwriting and government.”

“Yes, but I also found this coin.” Raleen produced the forged coin and offered it to her boss.

Ruiz aggressively accepted the coin. He looked at it for just a moment. “What’s wrong with it?”

Raleen stepped closer. “Governor Ruiz, touch the center.” He complied, mechanically, not wanting to. Do you feel the difference?”

“What difference?” Ruiz asked, curious now.

“Official gold coins have a rough spot in the center and a seal in the top half.”

Ruiz felt it now. “Ah! Well, maybe a coin maker got his hands on a grinder,” He said, too quickly. He didn’t believe it. Neither did she.

“A grinder, governor? The seal is missing as well. This is forged. It’s part of the ghost gold we’ve -”

“Don’t speak falsehoods in this hall, record keeper!” Ruiz stood. “I have no patience for such low talk. Make no mention of this in the ledger. We are just weeks away from having the regional bank reopened. It’s been how long?” It was rhetorical.

“A hundred years, governor.”

“I won’t let a single coin spoil that. You understand me?” Ruiz paused. “Destroy this coin. It’s a bastard after all. On your way out, send my guests back in.”

Raleen thought of saying something more, but she knew this was the end of her audience before the governor. He tossed her the coin. She bowed briefly and exited. Raleen could have found her way to the blacksmith and melted the coin. She imagined herself destroying the coin, watching the smooth center bubble and crumble. Instead, Raleen returned to her office, opening the door to the smell of fish and the sounds of a busy market. The coin joined four cousins in Raleen’s safe. If there have been four forged coins, there’s more out there in circulation, Raleen thought. She grabbed a cipher.

As the noise and smell washed over her, Raleen settled at her desk. She drew an unofficial piece of paper from a drawer. For the next forty-five minutes, Raleen wrote to a contact. Symbols and numbers occupied the space where letters belong. Raleen shared details of the coin and falsified shipping ledgers for the past week. Every now and then, she looked up, expecting one of the governor’s guards to be hovering over her, ready to escort her to a sentencing. 

Raleen finished her work, hiding the note in a pair of red cotton stockings. There was more to do, like copying trades into the official ledger. She hated lying on official documents, but she had to keep her job. Raleen knew the secret notes would reach the right people soon. The lying would be worth it in the end, despite the pain it caused her now. Before she closed out the day, Raleen visited the waiting area outside of the governor’s office again.

She peered at the faces there, people who needed assistance or to be heard. She knew the governor would turn all of them down. If it has no benefit to me, he had once said, I have no need of it. There was one face, however, that Raleen needed. 

Talla Espinoza stood in a corner, patiently waiting in her dusty green uniform. She spent most days running messages for the governor. Her satchel sank from full to empty quickly, guaranteeing her position. She saw Raleen enter before Raleen noticed her. Despite her efficient work as an official messenger of the court, she hated it. Especially the fakeness of courtiers and ranked officials. The governor was the worst of the worst. 

 A few months ago, at the Toasted Goat tavern, Talla enjoyed several mugs of ale. She rarely spoke about her job, and she changed into her own clothes before leaving the government building. But she found camaraderie with Raleen. They griped about their work. Talla found herself speaking candidly for the first time. Suddenly, she was revealing her true disbelief in the governor. Instead of recoiling and marking her a traitor, Raleen agreed. 

“I have some stockings for our friend in Ledger’s Reach,” Raleen said to Talla.

“I’ll deliver them with this week’s letters.” Talla accepted the stockings.

No one seemed to offer them any more notice than usual. 

“Toasted Goat before you depart?”

Talla nodded, smiling. “I could use a drink… and a reminder that not everyone in that building is rotten.”

Raleen moved on, returning to her office. The rest of the day was monotonous, but no more screams or falling coins. She found herself daydreaming as she copied lines from ship ledgers to the official ledger. Daydreams that, if spoken, might lead to her execution. Raleen knew her present activities were enough if she were discovered. The governor wouldn’t think long about putting her head on the chopping block. Until that day, should it come, Raleen would keep her head close and her secret work closer.

Chapter III: With the Rising of the Moon