When he returned from his first tour in the Regulars, he was amazed at how much had changed. The streets were smaller, as were the lives of those who lived there. The fishermen and ships’ captains who had once seemed larger than life were suddenly just men, and the enmity that divided Oervan neighborhoods from Coscan, once incomprehensible, finally made sense to him. That summer he realized that it wasn’t the Wharf District that had changed, but him. It was absurd to think of it, but this, the filthiest, most corrupt, most dangerous place in the city was the place where he had been the most innocent.
That was also the summer when he had first fallen in love, meeting a girl whose bright copper hair and blue-green eyes captivated him like the sun and the sea. A girl whose brother he used to beat up as a child, who had sworn vengeance on him when they were no more than eight years old. That boy was dead now, claimed by the same pox that had taken his own mother’s beauty, but the girl was young and beautiful and full of life. He was twenty and she was fourteen, selling flowers and fruit from a cart in Raelyn’s old neighborhood, and he was taken with her immediately. He only had a month’s leave before he was sent north to his new assignment in the First Division, but he spent every moment of it with her.
It was a week before she relented and let him kiss her, while they were taking shelter from the pouring rain. The sky was black, and he couldn’t make out her features, but they explored each others’ mouths with their tongues, her hands guiding his across her body. It was a warm summer rain, but he was shivering with an anticipation that bordered on fear, and they whispered their secret desires in the safety of the darkness. And she finally gave herself to him two nights before he left, under a canopy of stars. All he had ever known was violence, and he was surprised when her passion matched his; she showed him how to slow down, to temper the violence with sensuality. He swore to her then that he would marry her one day, but she just laughed, and told him that he was not the first man to make such promises to her.
When he had to return to duty he promised he would come back for her. For two years he campaigned in the bloody north, and he sent letters home to her. When he finally returned he discovered a woman, deeper and more mysterious than the girl had been, and he had to win her heart all over again. And when he came home for the third time, when he was twenty four, he had found a woman transformed again. She had blossomed fully, and had discovered that men would pay much more for her company than for the fruit on her cart, and the impetuous crushes of youth had given way to a much more jaded heart. Raelyn was devastated to discover what she had become, but he couldn’t offer her anything more. It was then that she told him about her father, and the things he used to do to her. Enraged, Raelyn beat him bloody, and would have killed him if she hadn’t begged him to stop, and when they were together that night it was violent and passionate, more intense than anything he had ever experienced. He begged her to give up the life that she had chosen for herself, told her that he would support her with the plunder he earned on campaign, but she would not relent. He was heartbroken, and swore that he would never see her again, but the more he tried to stay away, the more obsessed he became.
No matter how many other women there were, he had never loved another. He didn’t believe he ever would.
But that had been a long time ago—another lifetime, it seemed. He had moved to his apartment in the Oervan District when his mother died, and he never planned on visiting again, but he found himself drawn there over and over. The Wharf District was what he had grown up knowing, and it was for him the soul of Galavan’s Port, with its old neighborhoods constantly being washed over by the most eclectic mix of cultures, like rocks on the seashore. Now he was on a mission for the city, an investigator appointed by the Council of High Lords, searching for answers in the one place that truly felt like home to him.
Raelyn questioned a number of people who had dealings with Aertis, moving all throughout the district. There were a number of merchants and ships’ captains who he worked with, and a pair of gambling houses he had frequented, but nothing struck Raelyn as out of the ordinary. Aertis had small debts with a few people, but he had a reputation for being well liked, and for paying his debts on time. His search left Raelyn feeling discouraged, and spending the day travelling up and down the district chasing leads was thirsty business.
The evening found him in Browin’s Tavern for supper, a place where his face was well known by people who left each other alone. He was greeted with looks of suspicion and disapproving murmurs when he entered, but he didn’t think anything of it—that’s the way the patrons looked at everyone. I’d never know it if any of the people here had it in for me, he thought with a faint smile. The Lord of the Seas himself could enter and they’d respond the same way. It was considered bad luck to even think the name of the sea god without casting copper into water in tribute.
He scanned the room quickly and then crossed to a table in a corner, seating himself with stone at his back and a clear line of sight to the door. He wasn’t sure what rumors had spread yet of his questioning around town, but he felt a bit more comfortable assuming that everyone had heard. I’d rather be paranoid than surprised, he thought to himself, a mantra that he lived by during his service in the army.
The barmaid came over, a fifteen year old girl who was known to spread her legs for a silver tare. She cast an overly friendly smile at Raelyn and set down a mug of ale. “Will ya be havin’ anything else today, Rae love?” Her accent was thick with the dialect of those who grew up in the Wharf District.
“What’s there for eatin’, Dola?” he responded, his voice slipping into the easy cadence he had grown up with. The girl smiled and batted her eyelashes, leaning forward suggestively.
“There’s plenty I could be recommendin’ now, dependin’ on what yer in the mood for.” She was doing her best to mold cleavage from thin clay. She had tried this on him before, and it hadn’t worked yet. He supposed that one day she’d be old enough to catch his eye, but this wasn’t that day.
“I’ll take fish stew if ya got it,” he replied. Browin’s always had fish stew, and it was always good. She nodded and turned, walking toward another customer who was calling her over. Raelyn settled back in his seat and waited.
Not long after his stew was delivered, along with his second mug of ale, a figure shuffled into Browin’s Tavern, and to the same reception that had greeted Raelyn. He tensed when the man approached his table, but relaxed when he looked at the cowl that obscured his face. He recognized the cloak, even in the darkness. Not many people wear black velvet cloaks with silver and vermilion trim, he thought, inwardly sighing at the extravagance. His new companion sat down in the chair opposite, drawing back the hood of his cloak to reveal Slovani features, and nodded curtly to Raelyn.
“Well met, Crian Astal,” Raelyn said with a smile. The Slovani’s eyes relaxed, his mouth turning up at the corners. Like all Slovani, he had fine features and a pale face, but Raelyn had no trouble from distinguishing him from others, unlike most of his countrymen. He had known this man since he was a boy. He had served as a runner for Lord Perinor in his youth and earned a bit of coin before returning to his native Mitigol. He had returned to Galavan’s Port a merchant. His uncle had given him a small shop, and introduced him to a number of merchants and ships’ captains, and over the past few years he had built a sizable business, trading goods from Greiston to the Free Cities of the South. But Raelyn knew that his greatest trade was as it had been so many years before: in secrets.
“If this is your attempt at being subtle, Raelyn, you really shouldn’t have bothered,” Astal’s droll voice was barely low enough not to be conspicuous. “Half of the Port should know you’re looking for me by now.” He motioned to the barmaid with a wave of his hand.
Ever the showman, Raelyn thought with a smile. Astal hadn’t been subtle—but that wasn’t his strong suit. “I tried you at your shop and your home,” he said. “You were nowhere to be found. Not even your uncle knew where you were.”
> The barmaid showed up to the table then, her eyes questioning. None of the flirtation was in her gaze when she looked at the Slovani. “I’ll have a glass of wine. A claret if you have one; anything red, if not. Light rather than heavy, expecting that you have a cellar.” The girl turned without a word, a flinty look in her eye. Doesn’t like Slovani, Raelyn thought to himself. Astal was the only man in Browin’s who was not Oervan, and Raelyn couldn’t remember the last time he saw a Slovani or Coscan face in the tavern. It was that sort of place.
Astal turned his attention back to Raelyn. “I was off on pressing business, which I think would bore you if I went into detail. A shipment of fine woods arrived from the Southern States, and the merchant wanted twice the agreed upon price. We were discussing the finer points of the contract.”
“You’re right; it would bore me,” Raelyn replied, grinning. At this, Astal smiled, his first real smile.
“At any rate, that was why I was away. Negotiations are often… delicate things.” Astal picked at something invisible at his shoulder and leaned back in his chair, continuing as if Raelyn had not just tried changing the subject. “It’s kind of like being in a marriage; after a fight, you have to kiss and make up. If you don’t, you can pretty much guarantee the relationship will dissolve, and like in marriage, the cost of ending the agreement is often greater than the cost of keeping to it, for both parties.”
“Is that what happened today? A messy breakup?” Raelyn finished his mug of ale, sliding it to the edge of the table for Dola to take away.
“It happened last night, and well into the morning; but no, there was no breakup. For now the marriage is intact. The love may be gone, but we’re keeping it together—for the sake of the children.” Astal smiled playfully. “He is still obligated to make two more shipments to and from Goldenstar, and he’s also responsible for arranging portage inland to the other Free Cities where my goods are to be sold. The cost of severing those contracts and replacing them with another merchant would be higher than I care to pay, especially taking into account the time lost for both trade and investment. In another year or so the contract will be up and I can find someone else who will sail to Goldenstar and port the goods inland, but for now, it makes more sense to work it out.”
“What about the principle of the thing?” Raelyn asked. “I know how merchants talk—they’re like washer women. Pretty soon every sailor in town will know that they don’t have to honor your contracts, and then you’ll start losing gold by the pound.”
Astal smiled, and there was real humor in it. “Oh, I’m not concerned with principle. I’m concerned with what’s practical. In spite of his bluff and bluster, Corter Shipsmith did not get a tare more than was promised to him. The threat of seizure was too great. I have a few influential contacts in the city, and the suggestion of contraband goods in the right ear will keep him in dock for weeks, or perhaps longer. Of course, it would also keep my wares in dock, and prevent me from shipping out some goods that would risk spoiling. It would cost us both more to fight than to agree to disagree. And I doubt this story will get far, as he’s not the one who would gain by it spreading. The most expensive part of the endeavor was taking him out to celebrate the good fortune of his safe arrival, and of having such a strong friendship in me that we can put aside such differences and remain close. I don’t remember much of last night, but I think I promised him that by next summer he would be my cousin by marriage, although I can’t remember if he was going to marry my ugly niece or I promised to marry his uncle’s favorite goat—something like that.” Raelyn broke into a grin at the thought. And you’re just the person to convince someone of that.
“I still don’t understand how you can be so friendly with people who insult your character or intelligence,” Raelyn remarked. “If you had been Oervan, the insult would have seen you to the magistrate to settle the contract. If it was truly in your favor, why not just take it to one of them?”
“And if I had been Coscan, I’d have given up the wood, the contract, and the right to my profit and my investment, just on principle alone. And what would that have gotten me? I would have nothing but a grudge and righteous indignation to keep me warm at night.” Astal grinned back at Raelyn. “No, you can keep your high minded principles. The right threats, the right offers, the right words in the contract, and pretty soon your adversary is your ally or your ally is your adversary. You Oervan are too quick to make enemies, to take things personally. The Slovani way is much more practical. Business is business.” The wine arrived at the table, as did another mug of ale. Astal tasted it, and the smile turned to a grimace.
“I can’t believe what they pass off as wine these days. I don’t know if this would be served by aging or not. Maybe it would be more palatable as a vinegar tonic.” He set the glass down, meticulously adjusting its position on the table. It was one of Astal’s idiosynchrosies.
“I’m sure we could find something better elsewhere,” Raelyn replied, finally able to change the subject, “but I like the ambiance here. The food is hearty, the prices reasonable, and Dola always has a seat for me. Besides, I’m comfortable talking here.”
Astal glanced around the room dismissively. “Yes, I’m sure,” he replied, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “None of these men could be convinced for a coin to betray a friend as great as you. Such loyalty as you must command here would be beyond even the means of lords to purchase.”
“It’s not that.” Raelyn paused expectantly. “I just doubt that anyone here will understand what we’re saying,” he finished, changing to Slovani. He spoke quickly, undoubtedly mangling the nuances in the pronunciation, but also ensuring that anyone other than a fluent speaker would find it impossible to understand.
Astal smiled, nodding almost imperceptibly. He spoke at a more moderate pace, aware that Raelyn would not be able to keep up if he spoke in the quick, lilting cadence that the Slovani often used among one another. “So, slialne, why are we here?” He used the familiar term of address rather than the formal. Slialne—old friend. How many people do you use that word with? “I take it you weren’t stopping by for a social call.”
“No, old friend,” Raelyn responded. “I need the merchandise you so often trade. I am looking for information.”
“Of course you are,” he said with a smile. “Information is the most valuable commodity in Galavan’s Port. What do you need?”
“You’ve heard about Aertis Millson?”
“Yes, of course,” Astal said, the corners of his mouth turning down with concern. “A tragedy. I am sure he had his opponents, both in politics and business, but his was a progressive voice in the city, and it’s a loss to all of us, especially those of us who want change.” Something about that caught in Raelyn’s mind, but he couldn’t quite pin down the thought. “Have you any word on who will replace him?”
“Not yet,” Raelyn said. “I’ve been asked to help the investigation. Lord Perinor offered my assistance, and Lord Elotarn accepted it.”
A wry smile appeared at the corners of Astal’s lips. “Last night I heard that Corlwyn is heading up that investigation. Does that mean that you’re working for him now?”
Raelyn smiled in return, the irony not lost on him. “He woke me up this morning to go inspect the scene of the murder.”
“With his boot, I presume?”
Raelyn chucked at that. “Surprisingly, no. He just opened the shutters and let the sun do its work. Given the state I was in last night, I may have preferred the boot.”
Astal smiled, settling back in his chair, his left hand dropping to the basket hilt of the rapier on his hip. “I’m not surprised that your relationship is less than cordial. I am, however, surprised that you agreed to work under him.”
“With him,” Raelyn corrected. “Both Elotarn and Perinor made that clear to me. I think they made that clear to him, too. Lord Elotarn gave me writs of the city; I’m empowered to act as an officer of the Council. Of course, that didn’t stop Corlwyn from treating me like a suspect.
”
Astal grinned, amusement playing over his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see it when Lord Elotarn broke the news to Corlwyn that you were made a deputy of the Watch. I’d bet it’s giving him night sweats just thinking about it. But he did let you investigate the scene, right?”
“He didn’t have any choice. He made it clear that if it was up to him, I wouldn’t even be allowed back in the city.” Raelyn couldn’t keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. “But Lord Elotarn insisted, and made it clear that he had to share everything with me.”
“So what did you discover?” Astal smiled, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. This is what you live for, isn’t it? Learning secrets? “All I’ve heard is idle rumors. To hear the merchants in the Market District talk about it, this is all part of a conspiracy to keep the power in the hands of the Council and out of the Chamber, especially the free landholders. The Coscan seem to think it’s part of a plan to prevent the moderates from gaining power, while the ladies at market talk about stories of a jilted lover or a bad business deal.”
“He was killed in his home, a single thrust to the heart with a thin blade. Probably a rapier or a stiletto.” Astal‘s smile faded.
“A Slovani blade?”
Raelyn nodded. “A Slovani blade. Which is why I needed to talk to you.”
“So you want to know what I would know about this. Why would Aertis be killed by a man with a Slovani blade?” Astal sat back, fixing his gaze on Raelyn. “What do you suspect?”
Raelyn looked at Astal, pausing. How much can I trust you? How much can I afford to tell you? “If I’m going to talk to you about this, I have to know for certain that you aren’t going to talk with anyone else about this. I know you have friends in the Slovani community, and if it was any of them, I can’t have you protecting them.”
Erosan's Tears Page 8
