The Obsidian Ledger

AlternateHistory

The office occupied the top three floors of the obsidian spire. Outside, the smog of Tenochtitlan drifted over the floating districts, gray and heavy. Inside, the air was filtered through charcoal and damp moss. Ambassador Sterling stood by the floor to ceiling window. He smelled of sandalwood and pressed linen. He looked at the ledger on the desk: a slab of polished volcanic glass etched with silver circuitry. "The cacao exchange is erratic," Sterling said. "The London markets cannot hedge against a currency based on a perishable bean, even with your synthetic stabilization." Minister Xicotencatl did not look up. He was polishing a piece of jade carved into the shape of a screaming face. A thin film of crimson clung to the crevices of the stone. The scent hit Sterling then; a sharp, metallic tang that cut through the sandalwood. Fresh blood. "Stability is a European fantasy," Xicotencatl replied. His voice was low, stripped of inflection. "The bean fluctuates because the earth fluctuates. You trade in gold, which is dead. We trade in life." Sterling stepped closer. "The biological tributes are the point of contention. Two thousand genetic donors per quarter is an exorbitant price for trade parity." Xicotencatl finally looked up. His eyes were rimmed with kohl. He set the jade piece on the ledger. A drop of blood smeared across a silver line of data. "The price is not exorbitant; it is precise," the Minister said. "Your people provide the raw material. Our priests provide the refinement. If the exchange rate for cacao drops, we simply increase the tribute quota." Sterling frowned. "That is an asymmetrical agreement." "It is a divine agreement," Xicotencatl said. He gestured to the window, to the sprawling metropolis of gold and concrete. "You are guests in a city that breathes because we know how to pay the debt. Now, sign the ledger or return to your island."