by Brian Keller
The last time he was in this part of the city, he was providing some security for Master Brais’ reconnaissance patrol of one of the warehouses on the Waterfront. He recalled the Wharfsider that Master Brais had been speaking with; he had seemed to be a decent man. Cooper hoped that man was a representative example, but he knew better. Most people wanted similar things from life, but many went about getting them in completely different ways. This caused a wide disparity in what was considered “right” and “wrong”, which ironically often had some resemblance with what was legal or illegal, but not necessarily so. As Cooper crossed into what was considered the Wharf City, he could hear the beams of the ships creaking and the morning breeze making the banners flutter. With the exception of the flags and banners, most of the masts of Wharfsider ships stood bare, like skeletal trees reaching toward the sky. He suspected that the sails were rolled and stored below the decks to protect them from the sun and weather but for the permanent residents, they might’ve dispensed with the sails completely.
As he walked along the pier, a few residents gave him either a nod of feigned recognition or a scowl. There was an uninterrupted span of fifteen to twenty feet of water between the pier and the closest boats. Crossing into the Wharf City would either involve a brief swim, a short boat ride, or someone would need to throw him a rope. Cooper considered which of the nearby residents to call out to. That decision was made for him. An elderly woman was gutting and filleting a bucket of fish. She called out, “What brings ye? Yer too young to be the tax man!” Her shoulders quivered as she cackled for a moment. Cooper showed her the copper tube he carried, “I have this for Mardon.” The woman squinted at him, as if to focus better, then called over her shoulder, “Someone bring a skiff around! This youngun’ here’s gotta message fer the First!” Cooper heard a clatter from the far side of the ship and within a minute a wide, shallow boat was being propelled around the aft of the ship. He wondered whether the term “boat” truly applied to this watercraft. It was more like a raft with rails. Still, the boatman maneuvered it skillfully and drew up alongside the dock where Cooper was standing. The boatman initially looked to be in his fifties, but as he drew closer he could see that it was just the effects of a lifetime of sun and salt air. He was probably in his late thirties or a little older. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, and most of his whiskers were grey, or really dark grey. This contributed to making him look older. He wasn’t much taller than Cooper, but otherwise his frame looked like a scaled down version of Master Loril. Running a skiff must be hard work, unless of course, that wasn’t the man’s primary occupation. The man sank a pole in the sandy bottom and said, “Come aboard. If yer going to the First’s boat, I c’n take ye a few boats over and point it out.” Cooper hopped onto the floating platform and steadied himself immediately. The boatman had already started turning the skiff, but had been scrutinizing Cooper’s movements, “Not yer first time on the water, is it?” Cooper shook his head, “No, sir”, the man snorted at being called “sir” but Cooper continued, “I sailed on a caravel from Kalistos City last year.” The man guided the skiff past the woman who was dressing out the fish, giving her a wave, and asked him, “Yer from Kalistos, then?” Cooper shook his head, “No, sir”, this time the man didn’t snort, he just shook his head as Cooper spoke, “I was born in Miller’s Flats, I think, but up until the last few years I lived in Batter’s Field.” The man adjusted the direction they were travelling as he considered what the boy had said, “I’ve met more’n a few folks from Batter’s Field. Most are either good, hard workers or ye’ can’t trust ‘em further’n ye c’n throw ‘em.” He paused to give Cooper a hard stare, “Which’re you?” Cooper grinned and shrugged, “Probably somewhere in between, sir. Though depending on who you ask…” He trailed off deliberately which brought a snort and a laugh from the man, “Ha! Well, I s’pose you can’t get fairer’n that!” He pulled the skiff up along a much taller ship and tied off to a ring screwed into the side. There was a rope ladder hanging off the side of it and the man pulled it out of the water, laid it on the deck of the skiff and stood on the end of it, “Up ye’ go. I’ll be right behind ye. Once we’re aboard, I’ll point out the First’s boat.” Cooper paused, “Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll follow you up. I don’t know who’s boat this is but I’m sure they’ll handle it better if they see you first and not me.” The man’s eyes twinkled at Cooper’s words, “Good thinkin’, lad. But it’ll be no problem. The boat’s mine.” His grin revealed strong, yellow teeth. Cooper scaled the ladder.
Once both of them were standing on the deck, the grizzled boatman pointed east along a line of ships, “See that mast there, about twelve masts over, painted green?” Cooper nodded, “Yes, sir.” The man continued, “Well, the First’s is the next boat over, to the east.” Cooper thanked the man but paused before he left the man’s company, “Sir, you keep calling Mardon, the “First”. What’s he the First of? Merchants? Swords?” The boatman chuckled, “So ye do know a little about us then! Well then, here’s a bit more for free. If ye hear someone talk’n about “the First” with nothin’ else to go with it, just outta the blue, they’re talk’n about the First Merchant. An’ right now, that’s Mardon. And he’s,” the man pointed again, “over there. You can just walk from boat to boat to get there.” Cooper exchanged handshakes with the man and turned east towards the boat the man had pointed at. When Cooper reached the rail, the man called out, “You’re in the Wharf City now. You can board and cross over boats without calling for permission. Just don’t take nuthin’ and don’t start nuthin’ you can’t finish. If anyone asks who ye are or what yer doin’, just show ‘em that tube yer carrying. It means the same thing here as it does there”, he jerked a thumb west, over his shoulder, towards Paleros.
As Cooper crossed from one boat to the next, he decided it might be simpler to just hold the scroll tube in his hand. He received a few looks and even a few stares, but as his guide had told him, no one accosted him or even spoke to him as he passed.
When he reached the far rail of the green-masted ship, he looked onto the deck of the neighboring boat and called out, “Ahoy! I have a message in my hand for Mardon! I was told this is his boat. Is he aboard?” Cooper heard a muffled reply from below deck and soon a man’s head poked up from the hatch. The man’s bushy grey hair fully covered his head and draped down to just below his shoulders. There were at least five small braids hanging from behind both temples, and each braid ended with a jeweled ring. The hair that would be hanging down over his face was also bound in right and left braids and each was pulled behind his head and joined, almost giving the appearance of a thin crown. The skin of his face was ruddy and his nose pockmarked and reddened. This gave the impression of being wind-whipped over the years, or a sign of heavy drinking. His moustache and beard were as thick as his mane, but while his moustache had been left to grow and hang below his jawline, his beard was neatly trimmed. As he emerged from the space below, Cooper was able to examine him more closely. He was dressed in common work clothes but at least two fingers on each hand bore a ring. He considered that between the man’s hair and his hands, he had enough jewelry to buy another boat. Once the man was standing fully on the deck, it was apparent that the money he’d saved on his clothes was spent on his boots. The leather was fine and supple and the soles appeared thick but flexible. If they got to know one another well enough over the course of the next several days, Cooper had decided he would ask the man about his cobbler.
As the man examined Cooper from head to toe, he bellowed, “I had wondered who it might be that called me by my name. Now I see that you must be Rayna’s friend.” He gestured at the tube in Cooper’s hand, “I’m Mardon, First Merchant of this floating city. That’d be for me, then?” Cooper nodded in reply, then looked across the rail meaningfully at the deck of Mardon’s boat, then back at the man. The First waved him over impatiently, “Yes, yes. Come aboard! Don’t be timid, you’re already amongst us.”
Coope
r stepped across the rail onto Mardon’s ship and handed the tube to him. Mardon accepted it and turned the cap, cracking the seal, then removed and unrolled the message. Cooper gave him a few seconds, watching the man’s eyes sweep across the parchment, before he spoke, “I’m the Kinsman.” Mardon’s fierce eyebrows raised higher as he lowered the parchment and faced him, “Indeed?! You look rather young to have such an old poem to describe you, however much you might look the part…” Cooper shrugged, “Family resemblance, I suppose.” The boisterous laugh that escaped the man was too genuine and too sudden to be contained. As the man slapped his thigh he gained control of his voice, “Well, alright then, I’m Mardon and you’re Kinsman. Now we’re introduced. I’m supposed to help you find out something more about these sellswords making nighttime forays out into the bay. But tell me,” he turned his head and tucked his chin to look down at Cooper, “what are you prepared to offer in exchange for my assistance?” Cooper took a step back and shook his head, “I am not certain whether I’ll even require any assistance yet, sir. So how am I to answer?”
As the man eyed him, the calculating merchant emerged, “In order to watch these sellswords, you’ll be either standing on, or paddling in, one of my boats. Otherwise, you’ll not get close enough to learn anything. These men you’re interested in aren’t too skilled in handling a boat, but I daresay they’ll out-paddle one lone boy in a boat. So if they see you and decide to pursue, then you’ll either get caught, or you’ll be fighting them between your boat and theirs. You’ll also need someone to point them out. We know who belongs here, and who doesn’t. You, on the other hand, don’t even know who to follow. So by my tally, before we even get into particulars, you’re going to need a boat and at least one or two others with you to point out who you’re looking for and help you get around. That sound about right?” Cooper had to acknowledge the man’s ability to sum up the situation, “Yes, sir.” The First rubbed his hands together, “You see there, now we’re negotiating. What are you offering in exchange?” Cooper held out his hands, “Sir, what you’re offering is a service, and one you’re already well-equipped to provide. Exchanging a service for a service follows the usual terms of barter. So tell me, sir, what service would you ask of me in exchange?” The man drew himself up to his full height and belted out a single, “Ha!” then leaned back in to continue speaking, “That’s a cagey business manner you’ve got there. I like that. But do you know how a merchant gets to be First? He does nothing that doesn’t contribute to his value. By assisting you, I might lose two workers and a boat. There’s value there. Also, if something happens to you… the Guild will send someone asking questions. That might cause a whole different set of problems for me. Any service I ask of you in exchange needs to cover those potential losses and pay the sailors for their time, unless you’re paying them directly..?” Cooper shook his head, “I could do that. But I’m going to insist that you help me first, sir. And you pay the men. That’ll ensure that you trust them enough to protect your investment in me.” The First squinted one eye at him, “You’ve done this kind of thing before, haven’t you?” Cooper shook his head, “Not really, sir. I’m just very aware of how things might go wrong.” Mardon nodded, thoughtful, “So have you considered the possibility that I’m in league with these sellswords?” Cooper shrugged, “The idea left my mind as quickly as it entered. I’m not important enough for you to risk making an enemy of the Guild. Especially considering the likelihood that I could escape and report your betrayal personally. You’d also have to admit the possibility that I’d come back with two empty boats… looking for you.”
Mardon smiled, “Aha! There’s that family resemblance you mentioned. Alright, I’ll help you first, and I’ll cover the costs. Now, what do I want from you? Something that you, how did you phrase it? ‘Something you’re already well-equipped to provide’?” Cooper let his head hang. Now why had he not considered that he’d be paying in blood?
Chapter 28
The First Merchant informed him that the sellswords usually didn’t make trips out more than three times in a week, and hadn’t ever gone two nights in a row. Most often was a trip every third night. Mardon told him, “They went out night before last, so they might go out tonight, but if not tonight then almost surely they’ll go tomorrow night.” Cooper replied, “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere until we’ve agreed on what service I’ll be providing as payment.” The First considered his reply, “I simply want you to deliver a message for me.” Cooper was immediately suspicious, “Should I assume that the intended recipient won’t like the contents of this message?” Mardon chuckled, “I’d say that’s a safe assumption, but the manner that you deliver it is just as important. You might say it’s even part of the message.” He paused, still chuckling, as if he were picturing the event playing out in his head, “There’s a merchant that lives in the city. He owns several small fishing boats and hires men to take them out and catch fish. None of those men are Wharfsiders, and that contributes to the problem. The merchant pays the men on his boats to paddle out and form an obstacle for our fishing boats. It isn’t a blockade, exactly, but it is forcing confrontations, which might soon erupt into violence. The Prince doesn’t care who fishes in the bay, but he would notice if fishing boats became impromptu warships fighting amongst themselves.” He paused, looking for feedback. Cooper tilted is head a little in acknowledgment and the merchant continued, “I want you to wake the merchant with a message that will convince him to cease this practice.” Mardon swept his arm to indicate the bay, “Fish wherever they like, but do not position themselves in such a way as to deliberately provoke us.” Cooper waited a moment to make sure the man had finished speaking, then asked, “Wake him, sir?” Mardon smiled, “Yes. Visit him in his bedchamber. Wake him. Give him our message, then leave before he has a chance to call for City Guards. You came to me as a courier. It seems only proper that your task should be to deliver a message.” Even in Cooper’s limited experience, few things were as simple as they first seemed. Cooper arched an eyebrow, “I’ll need his name, sir. Then a few days to look into it and determine whether that’s a fair trade.” Mardon opened his mouth to speak, then clapped his mouth closed with a grin, “That’s fair. His name is Rylen Iacoss and his residence is in the north end of the Trade Quarter, near the Grid. Don’t take too long. Fishermen have begun waving paddles at each other as they push through each morning and evening. Once someone actually gets hit, it’ll be fishermen with halberds and crossbows going out the next day.”
Cooper spent the most part of the next thirty-six hours researching the merchant and watching his home. It was a standard two-story storefront with residence on the second floor. The walls were clay bricks covered in stucco but the interior support structures and floors were wood. The neighborhood Guard patrols passed either nearby or right alongside the front of the building. It was a fair distance from the bridges at both the Palace District and the Trade Quarter crossings. He’d be past those guard posts well ahead of any cries of warning, as long as no one decided to start ringing bells. As long as he didn’t kill anyone, the bells should stay silent.
Cooper kept wondering about the reasons behind this message delivery. It seemed like a job perfectly suited for a couple of burly sailors to enter the merchant’s shop and make their demands known. Cooper wondered what methods might already have been tried, and had failed. He also wondered what the merchant’s motive might be for creating problems with the Wharfsiders in the first place. Surely there was more to it than simple competition. He felt sure he was being drawn into something he didn’t fully understand but the last guidance he’d received was to avoid brokering any deals he wasn’t prepared to settle by himself. This was something he could settle by himself, but he knew there might be ‘ripple effects’ that he couldn’t anticipate. Still, time was of the essence and after all, it was only a message.
That evening, he returned to tell Mardon that he’d accepted his terms. The First appeared visibly pleased, “It’s a fair ba
rgain. Both are fairly low risk activities. I don’t know why you’re so interested in these sellswords but they went out last night, while you were in town. Since we won’t be needing to watch for them again until tomorrow, you should accept my invitation and stay for dinner with my family tonight.” Cooper had been thinking about the risks involved with the tasks and it seemed like he was the one taking the most risk, with both tasks. Somehow the man had still found a way to weigh the bargains in his favor. However, with the offer to dine, it seemed like he was being paid a compliment, and it would be impolite to refuse. As the meal was being prepared below the two of them sat at the bow of the ship, looking out over the bay.
Cooper took this opportunity to ask some of the questions that had been weighing on his mind, “Sir, why me? I mean, why have me deliver this message instead of your own people?” The merchant leaned back in his chair and intertwined his fingers across his belly, “Because having you deliver the message says two things. First, the message itself; and second, that the Wharfsiders are not isolated and alone. We have allies who can visit someone in their bedchamber.” Cooper could accept that at face value easily, but another question remained, “But why does Iacoss send boats to make difficulties? How does he gain from it?” Mardon’s lip grew tight, “Besides having fish to sell, you mean? Yes, of course. Iacoss is attempting to gain favor with the City Council and Planning Commission. We have long been a thorn in the side of both organizations. We do not flaunt their laws, but we operate outside of them. In other words, the laws of the Kingdom that do apply to us, we obey; but those laws that do not specifically apply, we ignore. He believes by creating obvious trouble for us he will gain favor, or if violence breaks out, then the Council will have reason to send troops to enforce the law. There have been several attempts to attack us directly, but the way our society is structured… well, it is difficult to explain, but we have redundancies built in.”
