by G. T. Spoor
~~~***~~~
Rip’s currus was nowhere near as nice as Tar’s jitney. It looked as if it had been cobbled together using parts from an old wagon and a billa. It also wasn’t nearly as comfortable, but the bumpy ride may have had more to do with the torn-up roads than the vehicle. Tar sat up front while Cord drove. Rip and Emily rode in the back. The extra padding on the bench helped lessen the impact of the ride.
As Cord navigated the dark streets, Emily took the opportunity to ask Rip the one question she had been holding on to since their conversation.
“You said you hadn’t heard of another of my kind in the city. What did you mean by that?”
“Just pointing out you’re the first one I’ve seen,” he answered.
“And what kind would that be?”
“You are one of the Yastazie, are you not?”
“No.”
The goblin grinned. “Oh, well, you sure look like one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your sandy-colored skin. Your gray eyes. Your silver hair. I bet you even have a mark on your back.”
“How did you—”
“All the Yastazie were marked as babies. But what difference does it make? We’re all stuck in the Chimney, waiting to die. Who cares what you were, or are, or might become.”
“I care,” Emily said, but he never heard her as the currus made a grinding sound when it pulled up to the curb.
“Here we are,” Rip announced. “Uit should be somewhere inside.”
The mill was a large building on the west side of Goblin Town. It had been abounded by the mining companies when they moved to the northern region and now served as a haven for Leaf-using goblins. It was only a shell of its former self. Like many of the structures in this part of the city, there were no longer any windows or doors, so gaining entrance was easy.
Cord led the way.
The central room, which had once served as a processing center for mana crystals, was now filled with goblins, but none of them seemed all that coherent. They sat around staring blankly at one another with frozen grins on their faces. Like the vir in the alley, they were oblivious to the world around them, although they seemed more content in their altered state.
“That is Henol,” Rip told Emily as they passed through the grinning crowd.
“I don’t understand it.”
“What’s there to understand? Goblins are nothing in the Chimney. We have no voice, no power, and no wealth. We’re less than nothing.”
“But is that all there is?”
“In the Chimney it is. The rich get richer and rise to the top while the poor continue to sink to the bottom, and this is about as far as you can sink in this city. Everything the goblins were has been taken from them. Their homes, their freedom, their culture. They have no chance of ever rising above their station. All they want to do now is to forget, and the Leaf offers that to them, if only for a little while.”
Cord tugged on the sleeve of Rip’s jacket to get his attention. He pointed across the floor to where a group of goblins were standing on the remains of a fallen support column.
“That looks like Uit up there,” Rip said.
Emily tried to see which one Cord was pointing at. She guessed it had to be the small, fat goblin who seemed to be dominating the conversation. He was better dressed than his companions, wearing a rather fashionable white suit. It would appear not all goblins were short of wealth. When they got closer, Uit stopped talking and watched as Cord led the small group to the edge of the platform. At first, he appeared happy, probably basking in the thought of new customers, but his smile quickly faded when he saw who they were. While he might have simply been suspicious of Tar’s presence, he was clearly disturbed by Emily’s. Pointing at her, he shouted something, which was probably obscene in his native tongue. Uit’s companions attempted to intercept, but before they could even reach the edge of the platform, Cord was up there with them. The pale goblin had Uit’s arm pinned behind his back and a blade to his throat. He was so fast and so quiet, Emily wasn’t sure if he jumped up onto the platform or simply materialized there. Needless to say, Uit’s companions wanted nothing to do with the pale goblin and quickly backed off.
“Come on, Uit. That’s no way to treat visitors.” Rip climbed up onto the platform to join his brother. “We’re only here for a little information.”
Uit replied with a string of words that Emily couldn’t understand. Although, she gathered from the tone of his voice he was not pleased with her presence. Toward the end, he kept shouting. “Not talk skelk.”
“Skelk?” She looked at Tar, but he turned away from her.
“It means… let’s just say it’s not a very pleasant word to call a vir,” he answered.
Wholug used the same word, right before Tar punched him in the mouth. Now Emily wished she knew what the orc said to set him off.
Rip let Uit ramble on for a few more minutes before he nodded to his brother. Cord tightened his grip on the fat goblin’s arm and pressed the point of his blade into his neck. Uit went silent. Rip then proceeded to question the smaller goblin in his native language. To Emily, it was a series of guttural tones, which she would have found impossible to repeat. They seemed to defy what sounds the tongue was capable of making.
As she listened and watched Rip’s interrogation of the smaller goblin, she started having second thoughts. While she was eager for any information Uit was willing to give, she was not comfortable with the way the information was being gathered. Her father would not have approved.
“That’s enough, Rip. Let him go,” she demanded.
Rip suddenly stopped questioning the smaller goblin and looked down at Emily from the platform. At first, she thought he would be angry with her for interrupting his interrogation, but he smiled instead. “As you wish,” he said and motioned for his brother to release Uit.
Cord was expressionless. In fact, through the entire ordeal, he remained stone-faced. The blade disappeared from his hand, and he released Uit before jumping down off the platform. Rip waited until the smaller goblin regained the feeling in his arm before he continued with his questions. Without the fear of Cord’s knife ending his life, Uit seemed more willing to speak.
It was a constant back and forth, and although Emily paid close attention, she had no idea what was being said, but it seemed Tar did. During one of the more lengthy guttural dialogs, the orc suddenly moved up to the front of the platform.
“Wait. Did you just say a blue vest?” he asked.
Emily mentally backtracked through the series of strange words, trying to figure out which two meant blue vest.
Uit seemed startled by the orc’s interruption and was reluctant to answer his questions at first, but when Cord moved to stand beside Tar, he changed his mind.
“Yes. Blue vest,” he said.
“And the yellow mark. It was in the shape of a diamond, right about here.” Tar tapped the upper left side of his chest.
“Yes,” Uit answered.
The orc backed away from the platform, grinning. “I know where he is,” he announced. “He works at the Amber Pot.”
“Are you sure?” Rip asked.
“I bring vir there all the time.”
“Very well. Then I suppose our conversation is at an end.”
Much to Emily’s surprise, Rip handed the goblin a few fyn before jumping down from the platform. It seemed strange to pay the goblin for information after first trying to extract it at the point of a knife. Wouldn’t it have been easier if they had done that in the first place?
“What just happened? Who works at the Amber Pot, and what is the Amber Pot?” Emily asked.
“It appears our friend here sold Pygmy Leaf to a vir this afternoon,” Rip answered. “He goes by the name of Stefan. From the description we got, he’s a tall, lanky vir who seems to be going bald, and, according to Targhed, works at the Amber Pot.”
“The Amber Pot is a gambling hall up on twelve,” Tar added.
“We c
an drop you off at the lift, but I’m afraid you’re on your own from there,” Rip said.
Chapter 16
Down by the Old Dower Forge
The Amber Pot was located on the corner of Florence and Wilson. A four-story building with its name plastered along the front in bright yellow letters. Lights filled every window and music could be heard, even from across the street. It was a popular place, as well as an exclusive one. A long line of vir stood waiting at the door. Only the bouncer was of another race.
“Ogres,” Tar said, shaking his head. “They don’t care who they work for as long as they get paid.”
“You think this man—this Stefan—do you really think he’s in there?” Emily asked.
“Has ta be. If what Uit says is true, he must ’ave been on his way ta work.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Emily leaned back and stared up at the roof of the jitney. After Rip dropped them off at the station, they had to ride the lift all the way back up to tier eleven to retrieve it. Then it was a long drive down to twelve where they parked across the street from the Amber Pot. Now all they could do was sit and wait.
“Why did ya try to stop Rip when he was questioning Uit?” Tar asked.
“I don’t know,” Emily answered. “Maybe because the way he was doing it didn’t feel right. He shouldn’t have treated Uit that way.”
“Uit didn’t seem too pleased by seeing you there.”
“That’s understandable. Uit has a reason to distrust the vir, but I don’t have a reason to distrust Uit.”
“Do ya seriously think he would ’ave given us the information ’ad we just asked?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But the first tenet teaches us to abstain from causing harm to others.”
Tar laughed. “This from the woman who slammed Wholug’s face into a table.”
“That was… unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? Char, girl. That was harsh.”
Emily glared at the orc. “You started it,” she said. “You punched him in the mouth first.”
“Yeah. Well… he deserved it.”
“Why? What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” Tar shook his head. “He didn’t say nothing.”
“Nothing? So you get mad at nothing?”
“Hey, I only punched him. You slammed his face into a table.”
“Okay. Okay. I get your point. Let’s drop it.”
“Fine by me.” Tar leaned back in his seat. “So, whatcha gonna do when you find this vir?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d follow him. Hope he leads me back to Galbassi.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He has to, that’s all.”
“And if he does? What then? What happens when ya confront Galbassi? Are ya just going to ask him to stop doing what he’s doing? What if he says no?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said with a touch of annoyance. “What’s with all the questions, anyhow?”
“I’m trying to point out that sometimes you have to twist an arm to get information. Sometimes ya have to throw the first punch to stop somebody from doing something.”
“So what you’re saying is sometimes you have to use force.”
“Sometimes. Maybe not to the extent of slamming people’s faces into tables…”
“Drop it.”
“Wait.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“But isn’t that Stefan?”
Emily quickly sat up and looked to where Tar was pointing. Across the street, exiting one of the back doors of the Amber Pot, was a tall, lanky vir dressed in a blue vest. The top of his head was bald and what hair he had was pulled back into a ponytail. He was exactly as Uit described. The only problem was, he wasn’t alone. There was also a young woman with him. She seemed nervous as he led her away from the Amber Pot.
Emily reached for the jitney’s door, but Tar stopped her.
“Where do you think ya going?” he asked.
“Don’t you see? This is how they work. They lead unsuspecting people away from groups so they can ambush them without being seen. She’s their next victim.”
“I kinda figured that.”
“Then I have to stop him.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Em. This is ya best chance ta find Galbassi. Once they drug her, they’ll lead us right ta him.”
“No. I won’t let that happen. I won’t sacrifice someone else.”
“Ya stop them now, and they’ll know someone’s on ta them. They’ll up and move. It might be weeks, months, maybe even years before ya get another chance like this. Besides, ya won’t be sacrificing her if ya can stop them.”
“And what if I can’t? What if we lose track of her? Then what?”
“We won’t.”
“But what if we do? I can’t take that risk. It’s wrong.”
“But it’s the only way.”
Tar released his grip on Emily. Now she was forced to make the choice for herself. She could either remain in the jitney and use this woman as bait, or try to save her and lose any chance of finding Galbassi. Reluctantly, she pulled the jitney’s door closed. Her choice was wrong, and she knew it was wrong, but she also knew Tar was right. This was her best chance of bringing an end to all of this.
They watched as Stefan led the young woman farther away from the Pot. She seemed to know something was amiss and kept slowing down to look over her shoulder. When that happened, Stefan placed a reassuring arm around her, which seemed to calm her down. Even though they were on the opposite side of the street, Emily knew what the man was telling her. He was playing the same game Brian had played. He was probably asking her questions about where she came from and whether there was anyone waiting for her. He would give her some talk about knowing the city or tell her about an excellent place to eat—anything to earn her trust and draw her away from the crowds. He would say anything he had to in order to isolate her.
Tar started up the jitney as the couple moved farther away. Emily was afraid the slow-moving vehicle would alert Stefan to their presence, but he never once looked back. Was he that confident he’d get away with it, or was he that naive? Clearly this young woman wasn’t his first victim.
After traveling for only a few blocks, Emily slapped her hand on the dash of the jitney.
“Stop! Stop! That’s him.”
A dark figure waited until the couple passed before emerging from a door alcove. He proceeded to follow them up the street at a safe distance.
“Who? Galbassi?” Tar asked.
“No. I don’t remember his name, but he was one of the men who jumped me in the alley.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She remembered his jacket, she remembered his size and shape. Although she couldn’t see his face, she was sure it was the same man. He stayed about twenty paces behind the couple, his hands in his pockets but more alert to his surroundings.
Emily looked farther up the street and, sure enough, spotted his companion hiding in the alley: a taller vir with a short scruffy beard. His name was Nok. She remembered someone calling him that during the encounter. When the couple got closer, Nok stepped out in front of them, blocking their path.
Emily wanted so much to run across the street and spare the young woman the experience of what was about to happen. She also wanted to pay these two men back for what they did to her, but she knew she couldn’t. Even though it went against everything she believed in, she had to remain where she was and watch.
The events played out quicker than she remembered. The young woman never had a chance to fight back. As the men approached from either side, she clung to Stefan, believing he would protect her. Like Emily, she never realized her mistake until it was too late. A slight movement of his hand was all it took. It was over in an instant. She fell limp in his arms. The two men quickly loaded her into the waiting lorry as Stefan kept watch. Emily and Tar ducked down below the jitney’s da
sh so as not to be seen. When the woman was secured, and the coast was clear, Stefan headed back to the Amber Pot, while the lorry pulled away from the curb. The entire encounter took less than five minutes.
“Follow! Follow!” Emily shouted.
“I’m going,” Tar said as he put the jitney in gear.
There was no rush. The lorry was moving slowly through the streets. They probably didn’t want to raise suspicion, but then again, who would suspect them? There were no city guards to worry about, and as for the local Mercs, no one was paying them to suspect anything. If they had wanted to, they could have easily abducted the young woman inside the Amber Pot, seeing as there was no one to stop them. The only reason they didn’t was that it would have probably tainted their hunting grounds.
As the lorry pulled off the main road, Tar extended the distance between them.
Emily slapped the dashboard again as if slapping the dashboard made the jitney go faster. “You’re letting them get away.”
“Calm down, will ya? They’re not going far.”
“We can’t lose them.”
“We won’t. How many vehicles do ya see on this road?”
The surrounding streets were nearly deserted. She hadn’t noticed, but somehow they had moved from the more-populated area of the city to the least. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn they followed the lorry all the way down to sixteen.
“They’ll spot us if we got too close,” Tar added. “Besides, I know these streets. There’re not too many places they can hold up.”
They continued to follow the lorry, but it was now two blocks ahead of them. With each corner it took, Emily held her breath. Each time the lorry was out of her sight was another chance she would lose the girl. Suddenly Tar pulled the jitney over to the side of the road. The lorry turned the last corner and was gone. Emily nervously tapped the dash.
“Calm down, girl. I know where they’re going.”
“Where?”
“The dower forges.”
“Are you sure?”
“Those roads all lead to the forges.”
