Emrach Sarai'af scratched his beard and contemplated the sheet of parchment on the table in front of him. "You say this is written in the Byzantine tongue? You know the language, do you?" he asked Rojeh suspiciously. He was reclining in a padded-leather chair, but not at rest.
"Yes, it is in Byzantine Greek. Ask Patriarch Stavros if you doubt me. I would offer to read it, but I suppose you would prefer your translator be a disinterested party," Rojeh answered blandly. He had dressed in a long paragaudion of a deep green shade with a Romanstyle abolla of heavy, rust-colored wool hung artfully around his shoulders, giving him a somewhat formal appearance for this occasion. His Persian leggings were a deep brown, almost the same shade as his boots.
"Perhaps tomorrow; I have too much to attend to today," said Emrach, stretching out and staring off into the distance. "The last storm was the worst so far-more than a dozen houses have been destroyed and all the builders are busy, as is most of the town. Who knows when we will have such a break in the weather again? I must see as many of you foreigners as I can until the next storm comes."
Rojeh preserved an unperturbed manner, continuing, "My employer would appreciate knowing what your final disposition will be in regard to this-"
"What can it be? I am powerless in this situation. It is a Jou'an-Jou' an matter, surely?" Emrach asked with an elaborate shrug. "The Jou'an-Jou'an are camped outside the walls, where I have no authority."
"You could admit her to the town," Rojeh said patiently; he saw the obstinate set of Emrach's jaw, and he strove to keep his tone level. "If my employer can pardon her for her attempt on his life, surely you can let her into the town. Otherwise she is likely to die."
"But your master is just the problem, don't you see?-she made an attempt on his life, and that would mean I could be permitting a would-be murderer to enter our gates, which would not be accepted by those whose town this is. You are a foreigner, your master is a foreigner, and you will soon be gone, and what would we do with the woman then? With the prison burned down, we have no secure place to put her, and her people have already forbidden her to shelter and eat with them. It would not be wise for me to allow her to come into Sarai, for not only is she dangerous, she might not want to leave, and what then?" He shook his head. "No. No. If the Jou'an-Jou'an have decided to be shut of her, why should I countermand their decision?"
Rojeh sighed. "You have made up your mind."
"I have," said Emrach with vast satisfaction. "I think it is fitting that you should bear in mind the obligation I have to all Sarai, particularly to those who live here, for as Master of Foreigners I must answer for what the foreigners do. Your Jou'an-Jou'an woman is no different than the rest. If she is allowed inside the walls, she might well begin to attack the people of the town, and that would not do. You have said that in this account, your master pardons her. I must not be guided by leniency, but by the strictures of my position."
"My employer is willing to vouch for her," Rojeh persisted. "He would offer her a place but-"
"Exactly. But! He cannot take so bloodthirsty a creature into his house." Emrach held up an admonishing finger, clearly enjoying the exercise of his authority. "You say your master has no fear, and that may well be true, but he cannot be allowed to conduct himself in such a lax manner."
"He is able to protect himself; the staff has been sufficient for his needs. There is no need for guards," said Rojeh, for the first time feeling the pluck of fear in his viscera.
"And who is he that I should pay him any mind?" Emrach challenged, his black eyes brightening.
"He is a man of vast experience who has been about the world for most of his life. He has witnessed things you and I can only imagine-and I say it, though I have been with him for a time." Rojeh tried to be as accommodating as possible, but he was having difficulty keeping his annoyance from his demeanor.
"Do the Jou'an-Jou'an think so?" Emrach asked, appreciating his power tremendously. "How can you tell me they have a high regard for him if they permit one of their own to-"
"My employer is not a man to demand satisfaction of those who do him injury, but he seeks a just resolution to disputes. Even the Jou'an-Jou'an woman has said she is deeply saddened about what her gods demanded of her," Rojeh pointed out. "She cannot long survive without shelter, let alone food."
"No, she can't." Emrach slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. "And why should your master offer to provide either food or shelter for her, considering what she has done? Is it his own pride, or is it truly his idea of justice, to permit an offender to go free?"
"My employer explains that in his report," said Rojeh. "He has said that she was forced to make a decision that redounded badly-"
"And you expect me to heed his request in regard to the woman Dukkau?"
"Dukkai," Rojeh corrected. "That is the reason I am here."
"Yes, so you said at the beginning," said Emrach. "Do you think the Jou'an-Jou'an master-what do they call him?"
"Kaigan. His name is Neitis Ksoka," Rojeh supplied.
"Terrible names," Emrach declared. "Would the Kaigan see it as your master does?"
Rojeh sighed, unwilling to argue. "This is my employer's account: I am ordered to leave it with you."
Emrach sighed his gratification at such an acknowledgment. "If that is what Ragoczy Franciscus has told you to do, then you have fulfilled your mission. I will assume he is giving a truthful report, and I will make a decision shortly."
"If I may ask, why are you so reluctant to extend mercy to this woman?" Rojeh asked.
"Ah, you see, Sarai is a funnel, and everyone traveling on the northern routes comes here one way or another. For that reason I must maintain order here that will extend protection not only to the town, but to anyone living within the walls, whether or not it is to their liking. Otherwise Sarai would be visited by more scoundrels than you can imagine, and no one in the town could maintain order." Emrach's smile was wide and shallow. "I am sure your master will understand when you explain it to him."
"This woman will not endanger that," Rojeh said.
"Perhaps not, but the next one might. And there is always a next one." Emrach laid his hand on the parchment. "I will speak to Patriarch Stavros later today and ask him to read this to me and assess what has been asked of me. That much I assure you I will do." He coughed delicately. "Your master must know that I have a duty to the town before any I have to foreigners."
Rojeh reverenced him. "Then I am most appreciative that you are willing to receive me at all."
"Very gracious-just what I would expect from your master." Emrach sighed and pointed to the side door. "I fear I must attend to the next petitioners. I have three Armenians to deal with, and they would not be pleased that you got here before them."
"As you wish," said Rojeh, not at all certain this was the true reason for Emrach's ordering him to leave in this atypical fashion. The door opened onto a small corridor, which led to a door opening onto an alleyway. Rojeh closed the door and stepped out into the street, walking with care on the rough paving stones covered in slushy snow.
"Ehi! Foreigner!" a scrawny youth called from the wall of the nearest house and, before Rojeh could respond, shied a rock at him. "That's for taking our food!" He scrambled out of sight, his derisive laughter echoing along the stones of the alley.
Rojeh inspected his shoulder where the rock had struck, using his fingers to ascertain how much harm he had sustained; satisfied no real damage had been done, he continued on as the path curved and twisted among the buildings, some of which had been damaged by fire and smoke, but most of which were still fairly sound. As he walked, he realized he had lost his sense of direction and now had no idea where the alley would take him.
A mangy, emaciated dog slunk across the road a short distance ahead of Rojeh. Its hair was patchy, but what there was looked matted. There were rat bites half-healed on its shoulders and flank, and its tail had been broken and now hung at a disconsolate angle. It growled miserably and slipped away through a gap in a blackened wall.
Rojeh was feeling distinctly edgy; he considered retracing his steps and trying the other direction from Emrach Sarai'af's house. He listened closely to the mingled sounds that the walls magnified and melded to a roar like a waterfall. The pale winter light provided little more than shadows, so narrow was the path among the buildings. Now Rojeh was glad he had slipped a dagger into his sleeve, for although it was forbidden to carry weapons into meetings with the Master of Foreigners, he had not been searched and now was ready to face any unexpected opponent he might encounter, he told himself as he pulled the dagger out. The alley made a jog to the right and ended abruptly at a little square near the east wall of the town, where a small knot of men stood about a fountain-trough, leading all manner of animals to drink: horses, ponies, donkeys, mules, camels, goats, and two pair of oxen. Sliding his dagger back into the sheath buckled to his forearm, Rojeh looked about for a wide street that would take him to the Foreigners' Quarter.
"The Westerner is lost," scoffed one of the men at the trough, a Volgaman by the look of him.
"I believe that will take me to the Foreigners' Quarter," said Rojeh calmly, pointing to one of the two broadest streets entering the square.
"Anyone who ventures into the Crooked Lane has to be lost," said another of the men, this one a Uighur with a string of shaggy ponies.
"that's what it's for," said a man with a string of goats.
"Do you still have all your fingers and toes, or were they taken from you?" This from an Armenian with oxen.
Rojeh laughed as much because it was expected of him as from amusement. "It is a strange byway."
"It doubles back twice," said a Sarai native with a pair of skinny horses. "How did you come to take such a route?"
"I mistook it for another alley," said Rojeh. "I must have misunderstood the directions I was given."
This time the laughter was less jeering, and the Armenian nodded emphatically. "It is always thus. In a place like Sarai, only the true natives can find anything." He waved at the road Rojeh had decided to take.
Rojeh went up the street toward the Foreigners' Quarter, all the while wondering what sort of prank Emrach had played on him. By the time he reached Ragoczy Franciscus' house, he was torn between deepening worry and mild exasperation with the Master of Foreigners. He found Thetis and her children in the kitchen, watching Dasur prepare their midday meal; jointed fowl lay in a heap along with onions, two tiny cloves of garlic, and a small cabbage.
"These all go into the pot. If we had any, I would add slices of pork and lentils and use olive oil to give it body, but none can be found in the markets, so we make do with this and be thankful for it. It would also be tastier if we had pepper." He opened a jar of rough wine from Edessa. "This is almost the last of what I could buy. It will make the food taste better-wine and salt, to bring out the flavor. It's a pity about the wharves; there is not much fish to be had since all fishing has been confined to the shore and to the smallest craft, ones that can be launched into the streams of the Delta."
"I would like fish," said Aristion wistfully.
"So would we all," said Thetis in a tone that discouraged complaint.
Dasur caught sight of Rojeh and became much less genial toward the widow and her children. "This meal will be ready on time, not that you will notice." He tittered. "The Master of Foreigners has sent two men to this house. They are in the slaves' room"-he cocked his head in the direction of the room behind the pantry-"for now."
"Two guards," said Rojeh, deciding that he understood the reason for sending him the wrong way out of Emrach's headquarters. "When did they arrive?"
"Not long ago. The fire Aethalric started for them has only just begun to burn, and he is putting the room in order." Dasur fidgeted. "I will have to feed them, I suppose."
Rojeh ignored the intended barb. "Since I have told you that I fend for myself, and my master cannot yet eat anything, providing food for the guards should not be a problem. Failure to do so could make for trouble for all of us." He came a few steps farther into the kitchen. "Whatever Ragoczy Franciscus and I might do, the rest of you are entitled to a proper meal twice a day, and cheese or bread to break your fast in the morning."
Dasur heard him out with an air of long-suffering patience. "Speaking of your meals, I was able to purchase a duck for you. It's alive and in the side-passage to the herb-garden." Dasur stared in Rojeh's direction, not quite daring a direct confrontation.
"That was good of you," said Rojeh, paying no heed to the cook's rancor, which had been increasing since Rojeh had refused his help in nursing Ragoczy Franciscus. "I will deal with it a little later." He looked about the kitchen. "So: Aethalric is busy with sweeping the slaves' room for two guards to use, and Chtavo is still mucking out the stalls?"
"So far as I know," Dasur said stringently.
"Sinu is making a new talaris for me," said Pentefilia, unable to contain herself in silence any longer. "My old one is too worn, and Ragoczy Franciscus provided beautiful cloth-"
Hrisoula began to wail, her face screwed into a grimace. "I want a new talaris," she complained, and began to weep noisily, glaring at her older sister as her sense of injustice increased.
"Stop it," Thetis said. "At once. This isn't the time."
The two girls glowered, Pentefilia smugly, Hrisoula pouting; Aristion seemed to want to be invisible, staring down at his feet and refusing to meet the eyes of any of his relatives.
"And Herakles?" Rojeh asked as if he was not aware of the disruption.
"He is at my husband's house, trying to find anything that may be useful: cloth, utensils, food, anything." Thetis cleared her throat. "So that we may, at least in some small part, repay the generosity of your master, while we may."
"I will inform him, but he does not expect such considerations." Rojeh then addressed Dasur. "The duck is in the side-passage, you said?"
"Sitting on an old reed mat when I left her," Dasur said, and returned his full attention to his cooking. "I gave her a handful of grubs from the edge of the stable sweepings, and she ate them greedily."
"I will claim her shortly," said Rojeh. "For now I must go to my master." He left the kitchen accompanied by the quarrelsome sounds of Hrisoula and Pentefilia talking about their clothes, with occasional admonitions to stop from Thetis, and punctuated by Dasur's efforts to restore peace. The dispute was so wonderfully ordinary that he found himself relishing its commonplaceness as he climbed upward.
Ragoczy Franciscus sat at his small writing table, his long, black-silk kaftan flowing around him, swathing him in a scrap of night. He had a broad, dark-red scarf of Chinese silk wrapped around his throat, which was held in place by a silver fibula embellished with his eclipse sigil. His dark hair was neat, his face unusually pale, and although he needed a shave, he presented a good appearance. As Rojeh entered the room, he looked up from the map spread before him, moving with deliberate care, and gave a slight nod of greeting.
"Are you sure you're ready to be up?" Rojeh asked, making no mention of his surprise at seeing Ragoczy Franciscus off his bed. "Your sinews are just beginning to knit again."
Ragoczy Franciscus put his hand to the scarf and reached for his improvised wax tablet and stylus, writing in Latin in his small, precise hand, I need to be doing something.
"More than you know," said Rojeh darkly. He went to the fireplace and shoved a negligent small branch back into the flames with his toe. "There are two guards posted to this house, ostensibly to protect you."
From what, or whom? Ragoczy Franciscus held up the wax tablet.
"They say, from Dukkai, or perhaps one of her clan. Emrach seems to think that a single act of leniency will bring every rogue on the trade-routes that converge here down on Sarai in an unruly pack."
Ragoczy Franciscus made a palms-up gesture of incomprehension.
"It is the excuse he is using to send guards here."
But they are spies, Ragoczy Franciscus wrote.
"I think so," said Rojeh, and described the trick Emrach had played upon him. "I think he used the time to dispatch the guards. I thought at first it was only meant to irk me, but once Dasur told me about the guards, I knew I had been subjected to a diversion. He wanted no opposition to his posting."
What did Emrach say? Ragoczy Franciscus wrote in the wax.
"I doubt he is going to permit Dukkai into the town. He told me that Sarai is a funnel and implied that every traveler must eventually come here. If he knows Sarai survives on trade, he managed to give no indication of it," said Rojeh, pursing his lips in disgust; Ragoczy Franciscus got up from the desk and went to the fireplace to take the smoothing iron from the hob, placed it on the wax to make an unused surface, then set the tablet on the mantel so that the wax could cool enough to use again. He tapped his stylus on the stone ledge of the mantel and shook his head in futility. "It is inconvenient, your not talking," Rojeh agreed. "But you will heal and your voice will be as it was." He took a turn about the room and came back to the hearth. "I believe you may have more to fear from the guards than Dukkai when it comes to possible attack. For that reason, you are safer with her outside the walls than in."
Ragoczy Franciscus nodded emphatically twice and gave a quick frown of pain.
"But questioning the guards' purpose may be more dangerous still," said Rojeh.
Again Ragoczy Franciscus nodded his agreement and reached for the wax tablet. We have to leave, he wrote in the wax. Soon.
"At this time of year it isn't safe to travel, not with the storms and the cold, to say nothing of the hunger and want everywhere." Rojeh guessed that what he said was useless, but he continued on, determined to make all his reservations known. "There are hazards on the road that-"
Writing quickly, Ragoczy held up the tablet. There are greater hazards here.
Rojeh said carefully, "I think that going out into the winter might entail too much risk. We can watch the guards, and-"
But we cannot feed, Ragoczy Franciscus wrote. Neither of us can.
Attempting to make light of this caution, Rojeh said, "With your throat cut, you cannot feed in any case."
Ragoczy Franciscus pointed with his stylus to where he had written, We have to leave. Soon.
"As soon as the ice begins to withdraw, we should be away." He saw Ragoczy Franciscus point to Soon one more time. "Is that why you had the map out?"
The answer was a single nod.
"If you think we should leave while it is still winter, you must be more worried than I am about the guards," said Rojeh, his faded-blue eyes somber. "Why are you so troubled?"
After wiping a bead of accumulated wax from the tip of the stylus, Ragoczy Franciscus wrote, Emrach is greedy and he is a martinet. It would be useful to him to make himself appear a hero in the town's eyes, and what better way to do that than to have his men strive to thwart a murder?-not just a murder, but one of a foreigner that can be blamed on a foreigner. It would assure him an impregnable position and it would warn all foreigners to hold Emrach in properly high regard.
Rojeh read this twice. "Are you certain he is so dangerous that he would do this?"
I think he knows an advantage when one presents itself, Ragoczy Franciscus wrote, and added, in very small letters in the little room that was left, We must establish signs. This is too cumbersome. Then he reached for the smoothing iron and put it on the tablet.
"You're right. We need a better means of communication than this." Rojeh glanced toward the door. "Has anyone been up here since I left?"
With exaggerated care, Ragoczy Franciscus mouthed Aristion and Sinu.
"That must have been awkward," said Rojeh, curious about the two visitors. As Ragoczy Franciscus nodded, moving his head gingerly, Rojeh pondered briefly, then said, "In terms of how I intend to deal with obtaining this information, I will handle the questions adroitly, as a general inquiry into how the house has been run on the first sunny day in five. I will ask each in turn, starting with your household servants, then going on to the widow, her children, and her servants. I have made similar inquiries before. I will ask Dasur about the markets he visited and what he found. I'll ask Chtavo about the health of the mules and the horses. I'll ask the widow if she has anything that needs household attention, and how the progress on her own dwelling is progressing. Who knows-I may even come upon something useful beyond what I ask during this delving. If the guards should hear any of this, or all of it, they will have nothing to notice in it, for it will be what anyone might expect. Is there anything in what I have said that distresses you?"
Yes and no, Ragoczy Franciscus mouthed.
Rojeh looked across the room to Ragoczy Franciscus' bed. "It might be as well for you to rest until I come back from the kitchen."
Ragoczy Franciscus reached for one of the six books he had carried from China; he opened it with care, holding it up for Rojeh to see.
Rojeh accepted this. "If you become tired, or your head or neck aches-"
Ragoczy Franciscus pointed toward the bed.
"Exactly," said Rojeh.
Taking hold of the wax tablet, Ragoczy Franciscus wrote again. Do not let the guards know how I am doing.
"I'll be careful," said Rojeh, and went out of the room. Descending the stairs to the kitchen again, he found Chtavo, Herakles, and Aethalric there with the others. All three of them were drinking hot wine, and Chtavo was still in his bearskin cloak; he hunkered down before the fire, his cup held in both his hands for warmth. Herakles had taken a seat on the bench next to the hearth and was rubbing his swollen knees as he downed his wine. Aethalric had seated himself across the main table from Dasur, at the opposite end of the table from Thetis and her children. "Where's Sinu, and the guards?"
"Sinu's working on my talaris," said Pentefilia with a wicked, covert glance at her sister. "My mother says it will look well when I die. They can dress me in it."
"Pentefilia," Thetis cautioned, blanching.
"Well, you said," Hrisoula reminded her mother.
"The guards are still in the slaves' room, making up their pallets, I think," said Aethalric.
"We are all going to eat together," Dasur announced, putting a stop to any wrangling and successfully shifting the subject. "It makes little sense to do two tables in the dining room, one for the widow alone, and another for her children."
"I would have to build a fire and sweep the floor," said Aethalric. "Here, the room is warm, and all of us may have the food we want."
"As much as is available," Pentefilia sniffed.
Rojeh said, "Remember that the widow and her family are our guests and must be treated as such."
Thetis shot him a look of earnest gratitude. "You are always courteous, Rojeh. You remind me of the majordomi in Constantinople: gracious and calm. I never supposed I would die here."
"Why should you die here?" Rojeh asked as the rest pretended not to have heard her.
"If Ragoczy Franciscus is going to die, then who of us is safe?" she whispered.
"He is not going to die," Rojeh said. "His wound will heal."
"Will it?" She daubed the cuff of her tablion at her eyes. "It's hopeless."
"Mama," said Hrisoula, panic in her young eyes.
Immediately Thetis made a reassuring gesture. "You mustn't mind what I say. I am ... worried. Ragoczy Franciscus is in grave danger, and what is to become of us?"
"You will not be cast on the world, whatever happens," Rojeh said, looking at the girl, not her mother.
Thetis choked back a sob and put her hand on his. "I thank you for saying that."
Aristion ground his fists together. "Why do those guards have to be here?"
"Because the Master of Foreigners wishes it," said Rojeh in his calmest voice.
"I don't like it," said the boy.
"Neither do I," Rojeh agreed, and would have said more, but the inside door opened and the two guards stepped into the kitchen. Both of them had daggers in their belts; their stance was inhospitable. Rojeh reverenced them and pointed to the unoccupied benches next to the main table. "We are preparing for our evening meal. I hope you will share our fare," he invited cordially.
One of the guards grunted an acceptance for them both; they sat down.
"Would you like some hot wine?" Dasur asked with a quick glance at Rojeh. "I think we can provide cups for you."
"It would be nice," said one of the guards.
"I'll fill the cups," Aethalric volunteered, and rose before anyone could object.
"I fear we have only a simple meal, but you may find it adequate," said Dasur nervously.
"Probably better than what we get usually," said the second guard, whose teeth were either missing or nearly black.
Rojeh stepped away from the table. "Then may you have good appetite."
"Do you not eat with us?" The first guard was instantly suspicious.
"No, he does not," said Dasur, intervening. "He follows the customs of our master, he says."
The second guard glared. "Strange custom, to eat apart. It is not what happens in this town."
"Nevertheless," said Thetis suddenly, "that is what happens in this house."
Aethalric came back to the table, carefully holding two steaming cups by their rims. "You should like this."
Abandoning their questions for the time being, the guards took the cups and drank eagerly, no longer paying attention to Rojeh, who was once again on his way up the stairs to Ragoczy Franciscus.
Text of a writ by Ragcozy Franciscus in Byzantine Greek, witnessed by two merchants of Byzantium remaining in Sarai for the winter, with instructions to file these dispositions with Emrach Sarai'af and Patriarch Stavros in Sarai upon my departure from the town.
As closely as I can fix the date of this authorization, I make it the first week of February by the revised Roman calendar, in the 1290th Year of the City; it is the first week of the New Year in China, although I am not certain which animal is in charge of this one; it is the tenth year of the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, and the eleventh year since Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths, died, and what is set down here was written in the sixth week since the Winter Solstice, and to which I set my sigil as token of my intent.
Upon my departure from this city, I have arranged for Thetis Krisanthemenis, the widow of Eleutherios Panayiotos, along with her three children, Pentefilia, Aristion, and Hrisoula, to be given tenancy in the house I have occupied until such time as her family arranges to bring her to them. I have provided the money for a year of occupancy and left funds to pay the wages of the staff, so that she need not be at any disadvantage imposed upon her because of the limitations law puts upon her access to her late husband's fortune. The monies have been put in the hands of Patriarch Stavros with my specific instructions regarding how they are to be used, and an authorization for providing money to Thetis Krisanthemenis as she has need of it. I will leave a single horse, a copper-dun, for the use of the widow and the household, with funds for its upkeep. Chtavo may continue in his present work, so long as he is in Sarai. None of my servants are bonded and thus may depart or stay as they choose. Aethalric has already declared he has no wish to leave, so he may continue to head the household servants, with his wages paid for another six months, and sufficient monies provided to cover the next six, if they are needed. I leave one restriction for the staff and Thetis Krisanthemenis: that they buy no slaves.
Should Thetis Krisanthemenis decide to leave Sarai, the sums that would have supported the household are to be provided to her for travel expenses, so that she and her children need not endure more hardships on the road beyond what the journey itself provides. I also leave with Patriarch Stavros a sum of money that will allow her to hire three armed men to escort her, and I admonish her to travel only with a larger caravan, so that her escort may not become her captors.
All household goods left must be inventoried and kept for the use of Thetis Krisanthemenis and the household until she and her children depart, at which time the goods are to be sold and the monies divided in this way: half for Thetis Krisathemenis and her children to offset the costs of travel, the remainder to be distributed equally among the servants, Sinu and Herakles sharing a portion. So as to leave no burden upon her, I have provided two diamonds for such taxes as the town may impose upon my household and the current tenants of the house; one is for the Master of Foreigners and should cover the sum of my exit tax, the second is for Patriarch Stavros, who has undertaken to serve as administrator of the widow's affairs.
The landlords of the Foreigners' Quarter will have much to repair and restore before the Quarter can be fully occupied again, and to that end, I have set aside one gold and one silver bar for the purpose of helping to pay for such rebuilding as may be required. In return for this sum, I ask that supplies for a shelter be provided to Dukkai, the jou'an-jou'an woman who has been exiled. Failure to comply with this request will result in a withdrawal of all remaining money, which will then be put in the hands of the innkeeper at the Birch House to dispose of in some manner that benefits the town but without helping any construction in the Foreigners' Quarter.
I set my hand and sigil to this before witnesses and in the conviction that when it is presented, its terms will be honored.
Ragoczy Franciscus
Merchant
(his sigil, the eclipse)
Nicodemus Daniatos, merchant of Amisus, witness
Evagelos Tomi, merchant of Chersonesus, witness