The Wanderers of the Water-Realm

by Alan Lawton

  Agar-Marduk paused and rubbed his chin.

  “The criminals obviously know the nature of your cargo meaning that I have a traitor in my employ. I will find him, for there are many petty jealousies amongst my slaves and wharf labourers and someone will know his name.”

  He paused again.

  “But such enquires will take time and there is very little chance that I will be able to discover the names of George’s abductors, or their whereabouts, before the criminal’s deadline expires.” The merchant shook his head. “I must sadly admit, that I cannot think of a way of ensuring your friend’s safety!”

  Darryl cradled his head in his hands and almost wept in despair. But at that very moment, his brain seemed to give a strange and almost inexplicable lurch and the parting words of old Noor-Balsam, the master-at-arms, flashed into his mind as though implanted there by some outside agency…

  … I will give you both the name of a man in Calar of the Mighty Walls, who will give you assistance, should the need arise…

  He is Ali, son of Grom, a whoremaster who can be found in the Street of Women, beneath the sign of the ‘Crimson Nipple’…

  Say who sent you… For he is an old comerade from the wars, who owes his life to the skill of my sword…

  The boatmaster’s head cleared and the feeling of black despondency evaporated, for he now knew what he must do. He gave a rapid summery of Noor-Balsams words to Agar-Marduk and requested the use of a litter to take him immediately to the ‘Street of Women.’ However the old merchant pulled at his white beard and stated that this request was quite impossible to fulfil, for the ‘Street of Women’was situated in the ‘Quarter of all Pleasures,’and this quarter could only be reached by passing through the portion of the city were George’s abduction had taken place. Litter-bearers, it transpired, could not be induced to traverse this lawless district at night, no matter what financial inducements were offered to them.

  “You must depart at first light and with an armed guard to see you safely through the old quarter.” The old merchant said firmly. “You will still arrive at the ‘Street of Women’ well before midday, and you will have ample time to seek out this whoremaster of whom you speak. Meanwhile, eat and sleep, for tomorrow you may need all of the strength that you can possibly muster!”

  The boatmaster lay back inside the cushioned interior of Agar-Marduk’s personal litter, as the conveyance was borne as swiftly as possible through the dangerous old quarter of Calar. He could clearly make out the muffled footfalls of the six burly guards who protected the litter, but he still kept a firm grip upon the hilt of his dagger in case a sudden attack by street robbers should overwhelm his escort.

  It was still early morning, for Darryl had insisted upon leaving the merchant’s house a good hour before dawn, in order to cross the old quarter a little after first light and reach the ‘Street of Women’ as early in the day as possible.

  The ex-boxer was in a far from jovial frame of mind, for he held himself partly responsible for George’s abduction. ‘If only he had prevented Myra from visiting the Temple of Dumteck.’He thought. ‘Then she would have been present and her inner-eye would have given them ample warning of the attack in the ‘Street of Bone-carvers.’

  He even chided himself for leaving the ‘Bonny Barbara’ yesterday morning, instead of continuing the preparations for their journey to Holy Ptah, rather than allowing George and himself to go wandering about Calar like a pair of choirboys on a church outing.

  He even began to doubt his fitness to command the party, but he summoned up his remaining confidence and thrust his doubts aside, for he realized that his actions alone held the best chance of saving the young boat hands life. He therefore bit his lip and resolved to continue with the plan of action that he had carefully formulated the evening before. George’s abductors, he reasoned, were probably keeping a close watch on the merchant’s house and he believed that it was quite possible that the litter and its escort would be followed from the moment that it left Agar-Marduks residence. Darryl had therefore instructed the senior bearer to pass by some secluded spot, near to the ‘Quarter of all Pleasures,’ were he could slip away from the conveyance, unobserved, thus leaving the litter and its escort free to return to the merchant’s house by a circuitous route and hopefully drawing away any observers who might be following upon their heels.

  The senior bearer had stated that he knew of a secluded alleyway, not far from the ‘Street of Woman,’ where the boatmaster could leap from the shelter of the litter and hide in one of the many dark side-alleys, without much chance of being detected. Darryl had rewarded the man with a copper disc and the bearer had also agreed to inform the boatmaster, when they had safely passed through the dangerous old quarter of the city and give a sharp tap upon his carrying handle once they drew abreast of the side-alley where the boatmaster planned to alight.

  Afurther half an hour elapsed before the head bearer quietly whispered that the litter was now clear of the old quarter and, a short time later, the boatmaster heard the bearer clearly say that they were now approaching the place where he must alight with all speed.

  Darryl’s left hand was upon the curtain and his right hand was grasping his naked dagger when the head bearer gave the anticipated tap upon his carrying handle; without a moment’s hesitation, the young man hurled himself from the litter and then lay quite still amidst the shadows of the side-alleyway. He looked back into the main passageway and waited. Moments later, he witnessed two dark figures flitting briefly past the mouth of the side-alleyway. Darryl smiled grimly to himself, for he now knew that his suspicions had been correct and both the merchant’s town house and its occupants were being kept under constant observation by George’s abductors.

  The boatmaster waited a little longer and then he rose and brushed the dust from his clothing. He listened for a moment and then he followed the narrow side-alley until it opened out into a wide avenue called ‘Happiness Road’, which, according to the head bearer, led directly to the heart of the ‘Quarter of all the Pleasures.’

  As directed, he turned left and walked at a brisk pace along the neatly flagged pavement that flanked the main road, and, as he walked, he realized why this quarter of Calar had received its particularly descriptive name; for the entire avenue was lined with opulent establishments offering a wide range of entertainments. In the space of a few hundred paces, the boatmaster passed an amphitheatre where the hoarding advertised a wide range of sporting events. Theatres were exotic music and dancing was performed on a daily basis. A public bathing establishment that was flanked by numerous gambling halls and restaurants of every shape and size, offering a range of elaborate dishes that made Darryl’s head spin. However, few customers were to be seen, for the trading day was only just beginning and this was exemplified by the large number of heavily laden tradesmen’s carts using the roadway to replenish and re-victual the district.

  After a further ten minutes of brisk walking, Darryl came to an intersection where another avenue branched sharply to the right that he immediately recognized as the infamous ‘Street of Women’ because of a large obscene mural on the side of a nearby building, that depicted naked men and women performing a wide variety of sexual acts.

  It was early and only a few jaded prostitutes could be seen disporting themselves on the numerous first floor balconies, in the faint hope of attracting the attention of some stray pedestrian.

  Darryl had no difficulty in finding the establishment known as the ‘Crimson Nipple’ for it stood only about a hundred paces from the intersection and, like most of the adjoining establishments, it was shuttered up and closed for business. Indeed, the only human activity that could be seen was that of a male servant who was energetically scrubbing the long flight of steps leading up to the brothel’s front entrance.

  The boatmaster confronted the man.

  “Greetings friend,” he said. “I wish to speak with Ali, son of Grom, who I believe resides in this house.”

  The man did not pau
se in his task or even bother to look up at the newcomer.

  “Then you had best return this evening, master,” he replied, “and you can have your pick of Ali’s women.”

  Darryl grasped the man by the shoulder, hauling him upright and then showed him the disc of shining copper that lay in the palm of his hand.

  “I wish to speak with Ali, son of Grom.” He repeated. The man looked fixedly at the coin and the bitter battle between greed and fear was plain to see upon the man’s features, but greed won and the man took the copper coin.

  “In the name of the Gods!” He exclaimed. “Don’t tell anyone who gave you the information, but Ali dines at the ‘Blue Do-fowl Tavern’ at this time of day and you may catch him there if you can find a fast litter.”

  The boatmaster slipped his dagger half way out of its sheath.

  “You wouldn’t be cheating me floor-scrubber?” He hissed, but the man shook his head vigorously.

  “No master.” He replied, shrinking away. “Follow my directions and you will find the man that you seek. You will certainly recognize him, for his face would stampede a whole tribe of Hix!”

  Darryl waved down a fast passenger litter at the junction with ‘Happiness Road’ and he was quickly borne across the quarter to a small tavern lying in a secluded avenue.

  The tavern, he noted, was fronted by a garden containing a number of tables and chairs, doubtless for the use of those of its clients who valued the open air and who enjoyed the perfume from the beds of aromatic herbs growing on every side. It was still only an hour before midday and only a single customer was to be seen relaxing in the pleasurable surroundings.

  Darryl drew closer and a single glance told him that he had found the man he was seeking, for the individuals face looked as though it had been smashed in by some red hot object. The cheekbone on the right hand side of the man’s face had been flattened inwards and a good half of his nose was missing, along with a sizeable portion of his lower jaw and this vision of disfigured humanity was horrifyingly completed by a mass of crimson burn tissue covering the remainder of the man’s face. The man looked up at the boatmaster with eyes that were as cold and expressionless as those of a dead fish.

  “Stranger, what do you want of me?” He spat out abruptly.

  “I know you to be Ali, son of Grom.” Darryl replied. “Noor-Balsam, the armsmaster to whom you owe your life, told me to go in search of you if I was ever in need of help in the city of Calar.”

  Ali, the son of Grom, drew up a chair and shouted for the landlord to fetch two tankards of the strongest Thoa-nut beer.

  “I had a feeling that today would be cursed.” Ali said, stroking his disfigured face.

  “Many long years have passed since I last set eyes on Noor-Balsam, now you have arrived, stranger, and reminded me of the debt that I owe the man. Aye, and of everything that happened in the old days. Well, no man can say the son of Grom ever evaded his obligations, so tell me how I can be of service to you?”

  Darryl swallowed a deep draught of the powerful brew and related the happenings of the previous day whilst his cruelly disfigured companion listened intently.

  The boatmaster eventually fell silent and Ali shook his head.

  “Your friend can thank the Gods if he lives for more than another darkening, yet something may perhaps be done. Now think hard young man and tell me if you noticed anything peculiar about the dress of the men who carried off your friend?”

  Darryl cast his mind back to the previous day and thought hard before answering.

  “I was a good distance from George’s attackers, but I caught a fair glimpse of them as they passed beneath one of the street-torches; but I can tell you they were all dressed differently, except for the last three who wore black skull-caps with long red tassels hanging down the back.”

  Grom struck the table with his fist.

  “I thought as much, this abduction was the work of one of the old pirate families and the black skull-cap with a red tassel hanging down the back, is the hallmark of the old and much feared ‘Blood-spill’ clan.

  The boatmaster looked surprised. “I was told that all of the pirate families dwelt close to the great rivers and shunned all heavily populated settlements?”

  “Most do.” The disfigured man replied. “But a few families, who were driven from the river by their fellow robbers, have managed to settle in the old quarter of Calar in recent times. The demons have become a perfect menace and even the city guard has difficulty containing them.”

  He paused.

  “The ‘Blood-spill’ clan has a stronghold on top of one of the highest towers and that is where your friend will be held. Tonight we will attempt to rescue him. I keep a room at this beer-house and you must rest here until evening. I must go now for I have many preparations to make. Tomorrow, your friend will be a free man or we shall both be as dead as fresh narrs-meat!”

  The hours of daylight passed with agonizing slowness for the boatmaster. He attempted to catch some sleep on the bed in Ali’s room, but he was unable to do so and he was heartily glad when the Water-Realm night fell with its usual suddenness.

  The son of Grom arrived an hour later, carrying a large bundle wrapped in Thoa-cloth.

  Without uttering a word of greetings, he cast his burden upon the bed and opened the wrapping. First of all, he drew out a razor sharp ‘Gill,’which he handed to his companion and his face gave a convulsive twitch, the nearest the man could get to a smile.

  “If Noor-Balsam was your armsmaster,” he said. Then you will certainly be able to handle one of these toys and you are likely to have need of it before this darkening is over.”

  Ali then produced a long cylindrical weapon that resembled an African blowpipe that Darryl knew to be a spring-powered poisoned dart throwing weapon called a ‘Perm.’ He gently caressed the weapon with the palm of his hand.

  “Many a life have I taken with this little pet.” The whoremaster mused. “But never did I expect to have use of it again!”

  The man looked at Darryl with his cold fish-like eyes.

  “Perhaps you are wondering how I came to owe my life to Noor-Balsam.” He said.

  “Well, we have sufficient time to satisfy your curiosity. Once, long ago, I was employed as a military assassin by the old Prince of Calar during one of his bitter wars against the Saxmen barbarians. One ill-fated day, I was ordered to sneak into a Saxmen village and shoot a death-dart into the body of a chieftain who was becoming a particular threat to my master. Afighting patrol, commanded by Noor-Balsam, was ordered to follow on behind and wreak as much havoc as possible in the confusion that was expected to follow the chieftains killing. Unfortunately for me, I was apprehended and captured on the outskirts of the village by a Saxmen picket. I was put to the torture for the entertainment of the populace and that is why I sport a face uglier than an aged Hix female.

  As I was suffering away the last few hours of my life, Noor-Balsam and his men crept up to the edge of the village, set fire to some huts, and rescued me under cover of the ensuing confusion. Noor-Balsam even avenged my pain, for he split that damned chieftain’s stomach open with a single blow from his ‘Gill.’And that stranger is how I came to be in debt to your armsmaster.”

  The old assassin paused for a moment.

  “The old prince of Calar was a decent man. He engaged a priest from the Temple of Dumteck to treat my wounds and he gave me a good present of copper when I left his service. I used this wealth to buy a string of girls, and that stranger, is how I came to be a whoremaster in the ‘Street of Women.’ “It was fitting, for hadn’t my father and grandfather been whore-masters before me?”

  “Well, enough of my history.” He said, looking at Darryl with his dead-fish eyes. “It is now time to apprise you of my plan to rescue your comrade. He will certainly be held in the ‘Blood-spill’clan’s headquarters situated at the very top of one of the highest towers in the old quarter. The internal stairways are always heavily guarded and no access is possible from ground level.
However, the building is adjacent to the city wall and the roof of the tower is almost exactly level with the highest ramparts.”

  Ali paused and drew a deep breath.

  “We must make our way along the ramparts until we are opposite the building that contains the ‘Blood-spill’ headquarters. Then we shall gain access to the roof by crawling over the intervening void by way of a long thirty hand-span ladder. We shall then enter a skylight, rescue your friend and return by the same route, if the Gods are willing!”

  Darryl gasped at the sheer audacity of the scheme.

  “Will the city guards not apprehend us once we step upon the battlements?” He asked.

  “And surely the pirates will not have neglected to place some guards upon the roof of their headquarters tower?”

  The old assassins ruined face twitched.

  “The guards are already bribed and will be nowhere to be seen. As for the ‘Blood-spill sentries, leave them to me!”