"...well of course Mister DeMuer still plays a role, he's among our most prominent shareholders never mind our founder, and... yes, of course..."

Four months on it still wasn't an easy story to sell. Jaster stared critically at his reflection in his little desktop mirror and rubbed a little more oil into his right tusk. They were clean and white, but an Aurk of his stature had to have his tusks pearly if he wanted to be taken seriously.

"I assure you, and as Al has assured you, the direction of his company was in my hands long before he sold the majority of his shares. ...Yes... of course I realize it's not the most reassuring move, but he had tied up the company's growth, its future potential, in his own personal investment, and as a result he feared he was holding us back. He realized change had to... yes, yes..."

The Aurk heaved a long sigh and examined the faint red bags under his eyes, and since no one was looking, pulled a funny face. Blech, vampire merchants - too effing cautious. "Tell me, Seigneur, have you ever been a pilot? No... a helmsman? Held the wheel of a ship and chosen its course. Yes, it's like nothing else." He laughed warmly and laid it on thick when he did. "You own the yacht Clarabella? No, no, I believe the Star's End Sentinel feature painted it beautifully... yes, well, in any case."

He made a shushing motion to a latte-bearing intern who had just stumbled into his office; he rose and walked to the window, wrapping himself into and shrugging back out of his phone cord. "In the past D.E. had one helmsman, one man who, no matter our own suggestions and reactions to his plans, set our company's course. Now we are in a position to better hear the proposals of our shareholders. Seigneur I seem to remember you had an interest in Red Double-Oh that DeMuer considered, ah, risky... but it isn't his choice now, is it?"

The Aurk laughed again as he made several hurried, annoyed motions of instruction to his intern, who dashed back out scribbling furiously onto a notepad. "Naturally, you're right, one could call me the helmsman... but it is up to you to set the course. ...Very good, very good. I look forward to hearing it. We'll see you on Tuesday."

Why Alain had insisted on these old-fashioned black phones with the long, curly cords would only ever baffle Jaster, when there were perfectly good cordless varieties in shops all over Star's End. He muttered and cussed and spat as he untied himself yet again, and finally hung up.

"Mister Aurene?" It was the intern again. "It's our S.E. Exchange source, he's said the Seramanque investors are selling their shares in Pelican Shipping."

Jaster grinned and punched his desk with a left and right hook: "Yes. That's how it's done, Jenkins."

"But my name's not -- "

"Jenkins, where the hell are those lattes? And the new ads I've been asking for? The Seigneur's still calling it DeMuer Exports and you know how he gets when I correct him. Dominion Exports, yes that's d-o-m-i... wait, why do I have to spell this out?!" Jaster's wooden inbox hit the wall near the intern's head, who was out in seconds. "Much better," he sighed after a moment, and sank back into his seat.

For most of the fourth quarter, with the sale of DeMuer's shares and the crisis in Vrashne profits had slid down, down, to the point there was talk of shedding assets... but with a little luck this would be another positive quarter, a strong reopening for what had become Dominion Exports. Alain had his political games to play, a powerful family to marry into, and beer to brew, and in years past his every distraction had seen slow growth in D.E. But now, under Jaster's guidance, there was nothing holding them back.

"Goddamnit," he said to the window, and smiled. "I'll put a D.E. office in every major city in the alignment... Watch out, Vrashne. You're next."