Ascent of the Aliomenti (30 page)

She put her fingers to her lips, then reached out to trace them across his. “I love you, Will.”

And then she vanished.

XXIII

Financier

1158 A.D.

One hundred years later.

The initial construction of the new Aliomenti outpost, located on the northwestern coast of what would become Portugal, was complete. The Aliomenti were less concerned with isolation now, though privacy and protection of their secrets were still core principles. New members joined on a regular basis, identified and vetted through Arthur’s exhaustive recruiting process. Each began as a neophyte, and developed skills in their craft of choice under the tutelage of an Aliomenti master. Those who joined the Aliomenti after previously receiving the “master” designation from guilds found they had much to learn from Aliomenti masters who often had a century of experience. New members, who started as mere
humans,
gradually became Energy neophytes, and eventually they, too, joined the ranks of the Aliomenti immortals.

A century of advances led to the introduction of the principles of mass production of popular items, and the advanced age of more senior members enabled them to make connections that younger minds simply hadn’t had the time to develop. The Aliomenti had expanded to a total of ten locations, providing coverage for much of the northern portion of continental Europe. Their knowledge of the planet they called home had advanced to the point that they realized the vast potential of lands that their earliest number hadn’t realized existed.

Centuries before it was proved conclusively by others, the Aliomenti knew the Earth wasn’t flat, knew that their home did not possess edges that doomed foolish sailors to instant death in a void of nothingness. Centuries before the printing press was invented by Gutenberg, the Aliomenti had perfected the process of creating paper and mass producing volumes that were transported by teleportation specialists. Those men and women were Aliomenti who could travel hundreds of miles in two to five mile hop sequences, terminating each hop inside property owned by Aliomenti who did not live in the established outposts. Those outposts were, more and more, exclusively business and manufacturing fronts, rather than residential areas, and the mastery of teleportation, much like the advent of the automobile in the twentieth century, made on-site living an option, rather than a requirement.

Will Stark was one of those who didn’t establish a specific home base. He traveled among the various outposts throughout modern day England, Portugal, Spain, France, and Germany, and had been part of the scout teams sizing up the lands that the former great empire of Rome called home, more specifically what he’d known as Italy.

“I have a feeling about this place,” one of the scouts had told Will, as they traveled through the cities of Florence and Milan. “There’s a creative energy here that simply demands some type of outlet.”

Will wondered if the man would live to see the great Italian Renaissance unfold.

On a personal level, while the Aliomenti had thrived, Will had stagnated. He had not seen Hope in person since she’d vanished from his side. She’d communicated with him at least, though on a far-too-infrequent basis, via telepathy. He knew where she’d traveled, at least after she left, for she’d arrange to send him gifts at the various outposts that he helped establish and build. She’d traveled far to the East, and he knew, from her gifts, that she’d spent time in places as varied as Greece, India, and China. It meant that she’d certainly mastered the art of rapid travel, via teleportation or other means, for the distances she’d covered were staggering. She seemed to stay in a region a significant period of time, for the gifts arrived only every fifteen or twenty years. When she’d lived with Eva, the women had changed homes after a mere eight to ten years.

As for Eva, Will had not heard from her since Hope’s disappearance, though he’d searched for her regularly, tried to sense the harp-like sound of her Energy whenever he thought of her. He had no idea if the woman still lived, and if so, where. He’d felt her powerful empathic push of grief when she’d first learned of Hope’s decision, a desperate burst of emotion of an intensity only Will could understand. Will had still not fully recovered from that decision, a century after the painful encounter.

The greatest pain came from his eventual realization that her decision was the correct one.

Will had immersed himself deeply with the Aliomenti as a means of distracting himself from that pain. They continued to find new and innovative ways to make money, the latest being the most unusual. They’d mastered the art of making and selling quality crafts at impressive profits; it had been their model since their founding fifteen decades earlier. But they had, ironically, become almost
too
wealthy. The piles of coins each possessed were massive, especially for those like Will who’d undergone the ambrosia protocols. They had reached the point where they literally could not spend the amounts of money they possessed.

The latest idea had been Will’s, and, like many ideas, it was strongly resisted at first. It was an idea that required giving before getting, and as the first group of Aliomenti had demonstrated, men and women already possessing more than they’d believed possible were all too often unwilling to expend it on anything but themselves.

“We all have huge amounts of money that are doing nothing,” Will had noted. “There are piles of coins sitting in vaults we’ve constructed. We cannot spend them, because there’s not enough for us to buy. The money is doing us no good.”

“We’ve bought land,” Arthur noted. It was true; the Aliomenti had purchased the land for every outpost after the first two. And they’d abandoned those original two outposts over the past few decades, demolishing all evidence of their existence. Will had been pained when they’d destroyed the original village once more, though this time no one had died in the process. After blasting every concrete building and every wooden aqueduct to ash, they’d temporarily dammed the two rivers to wash away any remnants. The Aliomenti mark upon the land had disappeared. They’d similarly destroyed Atlantis, a site that had become too difficult to maintain after a century of flooding threatened the structural integrity of the base of the elevated city. It had also become the place of choice for those immortal Aliomenti who had given up on life. They’d simply camp out in the open valley when they heard the distant sounds of an approaching storm, and wait for the waters to come and claim them.

Will refused to bury them next to men like David and Wayne. When he was present in the aftermath of such suicides, they hurled the bodies far into the sea.

Yet it wasn’t enough. “There’s not always land to buy, though. We can only buy so many pieces of clothing, so many kegs of our favorite wines and ales, so many rugs and carpets, so many books. Our funds, and our incomes, are far in excess of what we can spend. I repeat: there are not enough goods and services in the world for us to be able to take advantage of our wealth.”

Arthur shrugged. “So what?”

“So why not put the
money
to work?”

Adam arched an eyebrow. “How can money work, Will? Money is nothing more than pieces of metal. It is not a machine or a gear.” His eyes widened. “You’re not suggesting we melt our coins down to make gears or machines, are you?”

Will sighed. They’d invented the first machine several decades ago, when they realized they could generate something other than a circular motion with the gears. By changing the shape, and not just the size, of the items included in the gear sequence, they could generate side-to-side and up-and-down motions as well. They’d built automated looms for the weavers, and figured out how to build machines that could cut pieces of wood or metal using sharp blades. Productivity had skyrocketed, and wealth had soared to then-unimaginable levels.

“I’m not suggesting that, though in fairness that would be a far better use for the metal than it’s providing sitting in a vault. No, I’m saying, we should find people who need money to create the things we want to buy, and give them the money so that they
can
. If we do that, we’ll have something useful to buy and still have the means to do so.”

Arthur looked horrified. “You want me to
give
my money away to someone, and then pay to buy things from them, too?”

Will shook his head. “We’d charge them to use the money.”

Adam’s face turned stony. “You want us to become moneylenders.” It wasn’t a question.

The idea wasn’t popular. At all. Money lending in this era was not thought of in high regard.

“I think it’s something we need to consider. We loan someone a thousand gold coins, which for any of the three of us is an amount we wouldn’t notice missing. They pay us back fifty gold coins each year. After ten years they pay the original thousand coins back to us. We wouldn’t miss those coins. They’d build the things we want to buy, and the products exist so that we
can
buy them. They can make money and become wealthy themselves over time. We get back 500 gold coins beyond the thousand we gave them. Seems like
everybody
wins.”

“What if they
don’t
pay us back, though?” Arthur demanded. “What do I do if they don’t pay?”

“This is not something you do during a drop-in visit to a small village, Arthur,” Will replied. “We can get some of our people to do this full time. They live in the larger cities. They can ask questions to see if the person has a good idea, one likely to make enough money to pay us back, and determine if they’ll honor their commitments. We’ll have them sign a piece of paper promising that they’ll pay before we give them anything.”

Arthur shook his head. “I still don’t like it. They can still lie.”

Will sighed. “Excuse me, but are you, or are you not, able to read the thoughts and emotions of people accurately? You’re telling me you could
not
tell if someone planned to run off with your money?” He arched an eyebrow. Adam snorted.

Arthur looked befuddled. “Well, sure, but... they could change their minds, right?”

Will laughed. “The paper they sign can say that they have to show proof that they are making progress and making money, not just spending it, or the entire amount comes due right away.” He steadied his gaze. “Think our people could check in on occasion to see if everything is going well on those fronts?”

Arthur looked at the ground, seeking a counter argument to torpedo Will’s idea. The dirt, unimpressed by his Energy power, wealth, or relative youth, provided him no answers.

“I do agree with Arthur that such an approach brings with it inherent risk,” Adam said. “I don’t think it’s a sufficient reason to not pursue it. I do have a question, though, on that point. If our concern is getting our customers to return our money, perhaps we can ensure that by holding on to something of theirs that they value as much, or more, than the money.”

Arthur’s eyes snapped up, flashing, sensing a return of control. “Go on, Adam.”

“Let’s say that someone wished to use our money to purchase a kiln with which to make pottery, and that he required, as in Will’s example, one thousand gold coins to do so. Perhaps that man possesses a family heirloom of some type that can be left in our care to ensure he pays. If he fails to pay, we keep the heirloom. Once he pays, we return the heirloom. We both benefit if the transaction succeeds, but we at least have this item to sell to cover some part of our loss if they do not.”

Will nodded, forcing himself to act as if he’d never heard of the concept of collateral before. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Adam, and fair. The longer we work with someone, the more we come to trust them, the less we need them to provide to us before we lend them money. In fact...” His look changed to a thoughtful one. “We might be better off asking to
buy
a part of the profit of the business. So if someone starts up as a potter, we may ask to buy a permanent part of his profits or income for a certain number of years. If we look to get one tenth, and he makes 1,000 gold coins per year, we’d get 100 coins, not for a few years, or until the 1,000 coins are paid back. We’d get that 100 gold coins every year, for as long as our agreement holds.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur replied. “Why would they do that? Why would
we
do that?”

“Think about it,” Will said. “I have 1,000 gold coins that I do not need any time soon. They are sitting in a vault, getting dusty. Someone wants to start selling pottery or weaving. I look at their work, find that they do a good job, and the only thing they need to start making more things is the money to buy the kiln or the loom. I can either loan them the money and they pay it back, or I can buy the kiln or loom for them in exchange for a part of their future profits. The second one, to me, makes a lot of sense for
them
. They may not make much money in the first few years, so if they owed me 100 coins that first year but only made 75, they’d have a problem. But if I told them I would take one tenth of their profit, they’d pay me seven coins and keep the rest to help them keep growing. It may be that they’d start making 5,000 coins by the 10
th
or 15
th
year, and suddenly I start making a large amount of my investment back each year. It’s okay with them, too, because they’re making such a large amount of money. Everybody wins.”