The Merchant Of Venice Novels & Stories

I had learned, the hard way and the only way anything is truly learned, that the difference between a plan and a wish was the willingness to wait until every condition was correct before you moved. I waited until every condition was correct. The first purchase went through Meridian Capital on a Tuesday morning in the thin window that followed Sinclair Group’s quarterly results. The price had dipped as I had studied it dipping three times before. The trading volume was low, the kind of low that meant any modest movement through the market would pass like background noise, unremarkable, belonging to no one in particular. Fourteen hundred shares. Enough to begin. Small enough to mean nothing to

It could not, at any cost, be affected. “Which merchant?” I asked sharply, though in my heart, I already knew the answer. He lowered his voice. “It’s 5 merchants involved, but their head is Merchant Arven, Your Grace.” Of course. Arven, one of Jasper’s hounds. Just this trade alone is not enough to cause a crisis, nor does Jasper have the power to create a crisis that big, but it was enough to ignite a flame that could reach me. So this was Jasper’s tactic? Disrupt the southern duchy’s trade, incite disorder, and cast doubt on my rule. If the port fell into chaos, it would be said that I, a woman, could not command the sea.

The man said. “Won’t you come inside and have tea with us?” The baby voice asked seductively. “No thanks,” the merchant said with a sigh, “I got a letter that my wife put to bed last night, I must be by her side before the sun sets.” “I see, okay, here is your money.” The coins jingled again. “Please come a little bit closer into the shadow, for I am sick and can’t come out of the sun.” Silence passed again.

"She made quite an impression, I must say." I busied myself with pouring another drink, avoiding Venezio's gaze as best as I could but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. "The question is, what's the prideful Lilianna Bruno doing here, playing servant?" Venezio taunted with a smirk. "She works for me now," Marco retorted, his tone laced with authority as the other servers brought out the appetizers. Venezio chuckled darkly, his eyes flickering with malice. "Is that what's left of the esteemed Bruno family after the Cosa Nostra burned them into the ground?"