by AC Cobble
“Whatever you suggest,” grinned Amelie. “We don’t know when we’re getting another free day outside the grounds so let’s take advantage of it.”
“Let’s go to the sculpture gardens first then. The Issen Consulate is on the way and we can pick up Saala.”
“The Consulate? Oh, please keep me away from that today. Is there another way to get Saala? I do need to see him.”
“I know a back way in and I can get him. They’ve seen me there before.”
“You know your way around the Consulate building? Very fancy, you’re coming up in this world,” smiled Amelie.
Ben blushed, “only because Saala is staying there. It’s not like I’m some high born or something.” Ben winked at Meghan, “now those people are fancy.”
Amelie rolled her eyes and started towards the door, “let’s go see these sculpture gardens of your’s. You know how us high born get if we aren’t dazzled by artwork at least once a day.”
They picked up Saala at the Consulate building then bought some meat pies to eat while strolling through the gardens. Ben had come by once before and he was impressed again by the statues and the greenery surrounding them.
The gardens extended across several blocks in a serpentine pattern. They were designed to be seen along a looping path that circled the park. The statuary had been commissioned from many artists over the years but it was all supposed to tell the story of The City. Some of the figures represented grand moments in history but some told everyday stories of the common folk. Several were made up of many pieces and a few could have filled a decent sized building on their own. The oldest were little more than worn down lumps of rock with small brass plates detailing their origins – thousands of years before in a couple of cases.
In addition to the hard stone of the statues, the gardens were filled with a profusion of plant life. The gardeners put just as much care and attention into their creations as the sculptors had. Thickly planted bushes and deep green ferns gave the gardens a sense of privacy in the middle of the busy city. Tall wooden structures supporting bright flowering and hanging vines blended into the back drop of The City’s soaring towers and it felt like it was all part of the same tapestry.
The sculptures though were the highlight. The flora fell into the background and served as a pleasant accent to the history and artistry and unfolded around them.
“Here, Winged Victory,” said Saala as he pointed out a slightly larger than life figure. It was one of the most famous works in the park and a small crowd was milling around it. It depicted a headless and armless woman leaning forward with her garments flowing behind, as if she was pushing against a strong wind. She had two expansive wings spread out from her back and one foot was set in front of the other in mid stride.
It was remarkably realistic for a work of stone but Ben saw immediately the reason it was famous was how the sculptor had captured the essence of the woman’s triumph.
“Breath taking,” pronounced Amelie. She hung back from the work, as if afraid it’d fade away if she drew too close.
“It’s very good,” replied Meghan, “but what is she supposed to be victorious over? Is this in dedication of some battle or something? I like some of the others better where it’s clear what is going on.”
“It could have been after a battle,” remarked Saala. “No one is quite sure though. The sculptor and the reason behind the work have been lost through time. I’m not even sure the work was originally commissioned for display in The City. Many people think it was moved from somewhere else and that’s where it could have been damaged.” He gestured to the missing head and limbs.
“It’s powerful as it is now, I can’t imagine how beautiful it would be whole,” sighed Amelie.
“Less impressive, maybe,” offered Ben to a quizzical look from Amelie. “Think about it. What face could match the grandeur of the rest of the work? In your mind, you think about what expression the woman could have, you conjure the strongest woman you can imagine. The sculptor might have had something different in his head. Without the face, the work is a question as well as a story.”
“Maybe,” Amelie pensively admitted. “But still, I’d like to see what she looked like. Surely there must be records kept somewhere for something like this.”
“No written records exist, from what I’ve heard at least,” replied Saala with a shrug. “Supposedly, not even the oldest of the long lived remember anything other than this statue being right here. Possibly The Veil knows more, but who is going to ask her about it?”
It wasn’t until later that night, when the girls had gone back to the Sanctuary and he was tucked away in his cot that Ben started to wonder what Saala had meant by ‘the oldest of the long lived’.
Before that, they had a full afternoon exploring The City together. After the sculpture garden, they climbed one of the towers and spent a bell wandering the sky bridges. The bottom levels of the tower were dedicated to residences and about 10 levels up, where the first bridges connected, it had shops that catered to people living in the tower. There were small grocers, apothecaries, taverns and other places that people would visit regularly.
After crossing the first sky bridge with it’s narrow wooden slats and slight swaying when the wind blew, Ben shakily declared he needed a drink and they settled down at a large tavern which took up an entire floor in the next tower. Tall windows were left open to catch a cross breeze that made it much more pleasant than the street level venues Ben normally visited.
“How’d you like to carry your kegs all the way up here?” teased Saala. He lifted his small glass in toast, “to Ben’s successful brewery and to our two Initiates who’ve finally gained enough trust to be let out of sight for a day!”
Ben and the girls raised their glasses as well.
They were drinking a clear liqueur with squeezes of juice from the sour yellow and tangy green fruits Ben saw in the Initiates garden. The liqueur packed a punch but with the juice it was a refreshing combination and perfect for the hot day.
With a little liquid courage, Ben was able to enjoy the sights from the bridges and appreciate the massive scale of The City. From the higher vantage points, the island spread out below them in an organized swirl of streets, parks and buildings. Unlike Whitehall or Fabrizo which grew up naturally, The City was planned. The result was a clean, sensible and beautiful design but it lacked the spontaneity and excitement of the other cities.
From the bridges, the people filling the streets below looked like tiny bugs scurrying about their day. But to Ben, the most amazing part was the forest of towers that rose around them. The time and energy involved in creating the structures staggered him, particularly when he thought about the boundless open land just a day or two’s journey away from the island.
He mentioned it to Amelie as they stared down from one of the sturdy masonry bridges and she responded, “people like being near other people.”
“But look at this,” he said gesturing to the nearby towers, “a lot of these people live in tiny apartments that they can barely afford. Their kids have nowhere safe to play and they’re always looking over their shoulders at what the neighbors are doing. They could sell their places here and move out to the country where they’d have a roof over their heads and more than enough land to raise crops and support themselves.”
Saala smiled and countered, “but that’s all they’d have, which is better than good for a lot of folks. These people though, they want more. They want excitement, they want entertainment and most of all they want to win some imaginary competition that they all play with each other. That’s the culture of this place, it’s what makes them feel good. They’re all looking over their shoulders because they compare themselves to their neighbors and in some way they want to win. More wealth, a better view from their apartment, famous friends, secret knowledge and of course, power over others.” Saala shrugged, “having enough just isn’t enough for some people.”
Amelie wrapped an arm around Ben’s waist. “You’
re a simple man Ben. Which is to say, a good man. One who knows himself and knows what he wants. Not everyone does.”
“I don’t think I always know what I want,” replied Ben as he felt Amelie’s arm around him.
“You do, you just don’t know it yet!” laughed Saala.
The night ended at The Flying Swan Inn with Mathias personally suggesting and serving his favorite dishes. Mathias’ first love was ale but he had a knack in the kitchen also. He brought out heaping plates of food for them to share. It wasn’t the fancy fare they’d eaten on their journey in Fabrizo or Whitehall, but it was good and it fit.
“So, tell me about my investment. Going well I hope?” Amelie jokingly asked Ben.
“It is going well. Mathias here is my first and best customer, but we’re expanding across town. We had to hire two full time porters to keep up with deliveries and I’m worried we’ll need more in a few weeks. I’m making a trip off the island tomorrow to look for additional materials. I hear they’re cheaper off island.”
“Really?” broke in Meghan. “You never needed help like that in Farview. I just, I thought you were going to be doing the same thing here.”
“It is the same thing. It’s beer,” replied Ben sardonically. “There are just a lot more people here to drink it.”
“I’m so proud of you!” exclaimed Amelie. “I’ve heard The City is a tough place to do business and I think it’s just great you’re doing so well.” She looked to Saala, “why didn’t you tell me it was going so well? You’ll be a major player in no time Ben!”
“Well, I don’t know about that…” Ben thought back to the conversation earlier in the day about having enough. It seemed everyone from Renfro to Amelie now was pushing him to keep expanding. Every time they added a new customer or hired someone, it was a little more work and a little less free time for him.
“Keep your respect for the craft, enjoy what you do and the business will take care of itself,” advised Saala. He knew what Ben was thinking. “You’re young still and you have options. This is just one of them. It will feel less like work if you think about it as exploring an option.”
The next day, Ben, Renfro and their two porters made the trip off island to buy more wooden kegs. By asking around over the course of a few weeks, they found a cooper who only charged half of what they were paying on the island. Ben figured with those savings they’d be able to put away some of the gold and silver they were bringing in instead of pouring it all back into the business.
“We should be in the business of selling empty kegs,” grumbled Renfro as they helped the porters pull two over loaded hand carts up a short hill.
Ben laughed. “It’d certainly be easier than hauling around the loaded versions.”
Martin, one of the porters, grunted in assent.
At the top of the hill they paused to catch their breath. “I really think we’re going to need to hire some more men once we fill these up,” said Renfro. “Poor Martin over here is going to collapse on us one day.”
Martin grunted in assent again. Ben looked his way and then nodded over towards a nearby bar that opened to the street. Martin took the hint and gestured at the other porter to join him for a break.
“I think you might be right. This batch is going to be half again bigger than the last one. I’m not sure we’ll be able to sell it all though. I don’t want to bring on a lot of people then find out we don’t need them, or worse, can’t pay them.”
“You know we have more than enough coming in to pay a few more guys,” argued Renfro. “And we won’t have any problems selling the stuff. Now is the time to expand because Gulli is up in Venmoor and no one is minding the store.”
“Gulli is in Venmoor? How do you know that?” demanded Ben.
“I’ve been talking to some of his people. They’re not happy with the way he’s running things recently. Let’s just say they’re open to new ideas. Anyway, he’s got bigger fish than stocking barrooms in The City. They say he’s up there trying to buy up what’s left of the arms market. Trying to get ahead of the build-up with the Alliance and the Coalition. Good luck I say. Reinhold and his ilk are three or four months ahead of him.”
“You’ve been talking to Gulli’s people! Damnit Renfro, I don’t care if he is out of town, that’s reckless. Someone’s going to tell him. He’s dangerous Renfro, we can’t risk doing something stupid.”
Renfro leaned back against one of the handcarts and crossed his arms, “we’re dangerous too. Let’s put that Blademaster friend of your’s to work. Finally get something out of it. Maybe go talk to Rhys too. I’m not convinced he’s not all talk, but we can throw him a little gold and put him on the payroll. His name means something in some of the circles in this town.”
Ben ran his hands through his hair, “Renfro, the last thing we need to do is escalate this business with Gulli. His goons went and talked to a few of our customers. Most of them ignored him. The ones who left us weren’t good customers anyway. We should leave it at that. Pulling Saala and Rhys into this isn’t fair to them.”
“You know he’s going to make a move Ben. All I’m saying is we should be smart and think about it. Do we wait for him or do we move first?”
“I can’t believe you’re even talking about this, what has gotten into you?” exclaimed Ben. “This is crazy. Gulli’s been leaving us alone and no one’s ‘making a move’. Besides, he has a small army of thugs working for him. Even with Saala and Rhys, that’s not a mess I want to get involved in.”
“Your business, your call,” muttered Renfro.
“We’ll look for new customers and we’ll get some more porters, but that’s it. No talking to Gulli’s people!”
A few weeks later, Ben was still mulling over what to do with Renfro. Their business was doing well and his friend had gold in his pockets, which he’d never had before, but he still wasn’t content. Renfro spent most of his days meandering through alehouses and worse, usually around the rougher areas of The City near the waterfront. He said he was prospecting for customers and networking but those places rarely paid the premium Ben asked for his ale. They were most successful in the respectable taverns. Those places had clientele willing to pay up for ale that wasn’t watered down or soured.
He tried to put it aside as he neared the Issen Consulate. Amelie was getting her regular free days now and they’d agreed to meet there. That allowed her to check for messages from her father that they didn’t want to pass through strange hands on the way to the Sanctuary. Also, Saala was staying there so it was convenient to practice the sword with him.
Amelie, true to what she’d said after the attack in Kirksbane, had begun studying with Saala and Ben. She was still a novice with blades, but learning the Ohms with Rhys had improved her strength and balance. Like Ben, she was quick and had the natural grace of a dancer, or a Blademaster.
Ben was lost in thought as he ducked into the back door of the Consulate building and nearly ran over a small mousy man who crashed onto the floor. A meaty hand shot out from the side and slapped against Ben’s chest sending him stumbling back a pace.
“You,” a high pitched voice said with a lisp.
The owner of the hand stooped down to pull up the mousy man and Ben saw it was the bodyguard Raphael and Lord Gregor’s seneschal Tomas.
“I’m so sorry!” Ben scrambled to help up Tomas, but Raphael gently lifted him to his feet as if he was light as a feather.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still around,” sighed Tomas. “Got a taste for the good life did you?”
“What?” asked Ben. He thought he should be offended.
“No worries. Amelie is a big girl now and can handle her affairs. She’s in the courtyard with Saala. Since you’re walking in here so confidently I’m sure you know where that is. Raphael and I were just about to head out to tour some of The City’s baths. They’re really quite splendid, have you been?”
“Oh, no, I’ve been focusing on getting a business started,” mumbled Ben in res
ponse.
“Of course you have. Amelie is an investor I assume? The only investor perhaps? I’m certain it will be a profitable venture, whatever it is.” Tomas breezed out the door with the hulking Raphael in tow without waiting for a response.
Ben was certain now that he should be offended. The diminutive Tomas obviously didn’t like him, but he supposed that made sense. The man was after all the right hand of Amelie’s father. He had a right to be protective and suspicious of anything involving her.
The clack of reeds on reeds drew his attention back to why he was there and he strolled out into the courtyard to find Amelie trying to hold onto her practice sword as Saala casually, and almost lazily swatted at it. The scene brought back memories from his first few days with the sword and he silently hoped he didn’t look half as awkward as she did when another swipe from Saala sent her sword spinning across the open space.
She saw Ben standing there when she turned to retrieve her practice blade and panted, “sorry to start without you. Maybe you’d care to take a turn. I think I’ll watch for a little bit.”
Ben grinned at Saala, stripped off his shirt and drew his own practice sword. They’d gotten to the point they would spar for hours with no breaks, but he remembered how early on he felt exhausted after half a bell.
The advantage of being with Amelie at Issen’s Consulate was that they treated her like the Lord’s daughter she was. There was no anonymity for her in that place. Which was nice when a veritable swarm of staff brought out a light lunch of meats, cheeses and fruits along with chilled water and white wine.
