by Brian Keller
As they neared close enough to finally see the scaffolding, Cooper led them westward, off the road. They settled into the tall grasses and studied the quarry from a distance. The slaves on the scaffolding still looked small, in the distance, but what was apparent was that they weren’t chained together. Several of them, those that were highest on the scaffolding, were being directed to climb down. Scanning the perimeter of the quarry, there were a few stationary guards in small groups of three or four, armed with swords and crossbows. Each station had a hitching post with saddled horses tied to them by their reins.
Continued observation revealed a few guards tucked into gaps in the rock, above the scaffolding. They hadn’t been visible until one of them shifted to relieve a cramped leg. This led to a hushed discussion among the young Guild members, and a further study of the rock face to discover more of them. There appeared to be six guards positioned in such a way. Further examination revealed they also were armed with crossbows.
As the sun dropped further toward the horizon, and the shadows lengthened, the workers were directed down from the scaffolding. The guards that were concealed in the cliff face followed them down. Observing details from this distance was impossible, but they were close enough to realize that each slave had a metal shackle bolted around one of their ankles. Once everyone was down on the ground, most of the guards spread out while a few sorted the slaves into groups of a half dozen or so and threaded chains through their shackles, binding them together loosely. Cooper and the rest of them were silent as each strained their vision in an attempt to recognize any of the prisoners. Balat spoke, “Isn’t that one of the ladies from the dining hall? In the second group from the left? She just got chained.” Everyone leaned forward slightly, but only Birt spoke, “Too far away to tell. She might be. Any of our people have likely been here for five or six months. Hard to tell what that would do to a person’s appearance.” The slaves were then led to a stockade. They shuffled with a practiced synchronicity; like some perverse parade of despair. Their choreographed steps were only interrupted by the occasional shove from one of the guards, intended to hurry them along or perhaps simply to satisfy some urge. The actual effect of this was to delay them, since it interrupted the entire chain as they struggled to re-establish the rhythm. Cooper muttered under his breath, “I hate bullies.” Loryn was close enough to hear and reached to give his shoulder a squeeze. The stockade twelve to fifteen feet in height made of thick poles sunk upright into the ground, so closely that there were only small gaps between them. A few guards led the groups inside. As the chained prisoners were led into the stockade, the guards along the perimeter of the quarry untied their horses and led them to the stable. They spent several minutes unsaddling and tending to the horses. It was only a few minutes more when three men with a small cart and two wheelbarrows approached the stockade and went inside it. From this distance and in the fading light it was difficult to see, but a large kettle was visible inside the cart. Spen muttered, “Feeding time.” Almost thirty minutes later, the three men and the guards emerged from the stockade. The gate was closed and secured with a chain and padlock. Daylight had almost completely faded and all eyes scanned their surroundings and watched the guards’ movements. Only those sitting right next to Cooper heard him whisper, “I wonder if they have blankets?”
Birt asked, “Where do you want each of us to go, to observe?” Cooper replied wryly, “You failed to mention that the quarry was almost the size of the whole Lakeside District.” He looked around in the fading light, scanning the quarry, “I don’t want to spread us out that far. And not even sure I want to move much closer; at least not until we know how far they push patrols out. If they even patrol at all…” Cooper seemed to get his answer as most of the guards went to the guard house, leaving four to gather around the cooking fire and add wood to it. Three others came out of the stable, leading horses along the road that led back to town. They didn’t go far. Less than two hundred meters outside the quarry grounds they stopped, hobbled their horses, and built a fire of their own. Rukle had been kneeling so he could see over the tall grass. He leaned back and sighed, “That’s a lot of guards. I counted close to thirty. There might be even more that we didn’t see…”
Loryn leaned in, “What was that about blankets? Worried whether they’re staying warm?” Cooper chuckled quietly, “Heh-heh. You know me. Concerns for the welfare of others keeps me awake at night.” He grunted in response to the sharp elbow Loryn delivered to his ribs. He muttered, “Just trying to work things out.” He looked over the quarry grounds again, his gaze less and less able to pierce the growing darkness, “I wonder how often they receive wagonloads of firewood? And food?” The others leaned in to listen as Naro asked, “Is that important?” Cooper nodded, “Knowing that might answer how we get in… and out again. For now, just keep watching.”
A few hours before dawn, they’d returned to their own site in the Ruins. Dailen stoked the coals and Gaff retrieved an armload of firewood and set it beside the fire, while the rest of them gathered a few steps away from the fire. They were still feeling warm from the brisk walk. Birt asked, “What was that about blankets? And food and firewood? I doubt the guards are eating the same slop that’s being fed to the prisoners, but you can’t be thinking of poisoning the food, are you?” Cooper shook his head, “Not necessarily. I’m just interested in all plausible reasons we can imagine to get in and out with wagons.” Naro interjected, “Wagons?” Then an expression that resembled recognition flashed across his face, “You think there’re others inside the stockade that can’t walk?” Cooper shrugged, “Maybe. But I also want a way to get out quick… with everyone.” Spen chimed in, “We’ll need to either take the guards’ horses with us as we leave, or sabotage or steal the saddles beforehand.” Cooper looked from person to person, “Who, besides me, has ever ridden a horse?” Each of them reacted similarly, scanning the group with eyebrows raised in expectation. Spen looked like he started to raise his hand, but stopped. Cooper noticed, “Spen?” Spen shook his head, “Once. So long ago it’s just a vague memory. My father placed me in the saddle and led the horse around a pen.” He paused before he continued, his words sounding more like a confession, “All I did was squeal and hold on.” Gaff grinned as he raised an eyebrow, “You squealed?” Spen shrugged, “I was probably three years old, maybe only just.” Balat asked, “Was your father a stable hand?” Spen drew back within himself and simply shook his head, “No.” Spen rose and stepped away from the fire. Cooper watched him leave then looked around at the rest, leaving the question unasked. Loryn offered, “We all know each other’s background to some extent, except Spen. He doesn’t talk about it. In fact, what he’s just said is as much as I’ve ever heard him say.”
Birt brought them back on topic, “Alright, Cooper. Let’s hear it. You’ve got a whole list of ideas going through your head, I’ll wager.” They spent the next thirty minutes adding to, taking away from, and picking apart several ideas. They finally combined a couple of ideas, each with its own difficulties and risks but they agreed that if all went well they had a decent chance for success. The challenge presented to them now was that there were so few of them, and so many places they needed to be.
The plan was to purchase two wagons and the horses and tack needed to pull them, then load firewood on one wagon and a few dozen blankets on another. They would then take the loaded wagons to the quarry, sell the firewood to the guards and offer the blankets to the prisoners. The guards would surely search the blankets, unfolding and inspecting them. This should allow Loryn, the smallest of them, to conceal herself within the stockade as they delivered the inspected blankets to the prisoners. To facilitate this, they’d dump nearly half the load of firewood and need to sort it out before stacking it at the side of the stable. Loryn would remain hidden until the gate was locked after feeding time, then emerge to unchain the groups. All but Loryn and either Spen or Balat, whoever was best able to conceal himself while unloading firewood, would make a show of loadi
ng back onto the wagons and driving them back toward town. They would stop once they’d crossed the first low hill. Birt and Dailen would remain with the wagons while the rest of them moved to their planned positions. Once Loryn had unlocked the chains binding the prisoners, she’d douse one blanket with a flask of kerosene she’d carry in with her, light it on fire and drape it over the south side of the stockade. This should be outside the view of the four guards’ observation, but visible to those waiting outside the camp, including three three guards watching the road. Naro, and either Spen or Balat, whoever wasn’t sabotaging saddles, would quickly move to disable or kill those three guards. Birt and Dailen would then begin leading the horses and wagons towards the camp, picking up Naro and his partner along the way. While Loryn worked inside the stockade, Spen or Balat would move through the stable, cutting the girth straps on each of the saddles. Cooper, Rukle and Gaff will have circled in from the west on foot and would await Loryn’s signal. Upon which, they would creep forward to unlock the stockade gate, hopefully without alerting the guards that sat around the fire. Surely, those guards would need to be handled in some way before the wagons approached. Arrows would be best choice, assuming the guards remained unaware. Cooper and Gaff would then keep watch on the guardhouse, preventing any of those men from exiting and Rukle would watch the workman’s hut. The approaching wagons would certainly make enough noise to alert everyone.
Once the prisoners were loaded, they’d all board the wagons and take them back to the city, then south past the University and around to Miller’s Flats. They’d search through the prisoners along the way and any recently freed Guild members among them would be taken to one of the Houses being repaired. Non-Guild prisoners would be taken to the other House. Any prisoners that wished to make their own way, would be released without revealing where the others were being taken.
If all arrangements could be made in time, they’d go this afternoon. Everyone would catch a couple hours of sleep whenever they could in the meantime.
After they discussed the plan and the others had started to go their own way, Birt spoke quietly with Cooper, “Might I make a suggestion?” Cooper replied, “Of course. Something you didn’t want to suggest to the group?” Birt ducked his head and shrugged, “Well, I didn’t want to sound negative in front of the rest of them.” Cooper turned to face him fully, “Well?” Birt drew a small pouch and gave it a shake. The dull clatter that resulted made it apparent that the pouch held gems. Birt raised an eyebrow, “Plan B?” Rukle had witnessed the discussion and approached to include himself, “What’s this? I thought we were finished with planning?” he asked as he looked from one to the other, then the pouch and back. Birt shrugged, “I just think it’s wise to have options.” Cooper nodded, “I agree. But I think the guards aren’t likely to accept a bribe unless they’re pressed first.” Rukle nodded, “A bribe as a means of avoiding a worse fate… agreed.”
Cooper faced Birt, “Get the horses, wagons and firewood. Take Dailen and one of the Journeymen with you.” Birt nodded and walked away as Cooper turned to Rukle, “I’m sending Loryn after the blankets. She’ll end up laying within and under them for a few hours, so she should be the one to select them. Buy about thirty, maybe forty, of them then come back and tell Dailen where to take the empty wagon to pick them up. Tell her all that, then go with her.” Rukle turned and went to find Loryn. Cooper squatted down to look over Birt’s model of the quarry and he stood abruptly, “Rukle!” The boy stopped and turned around as Cooper quickly walked to him, “I want you to go check in with the Dreg’s Houses, to find out anything they’ve learned about the suspicious foreigners. I’ll send Gaff to ask Mardon the same thing. Tell Loryn what I told you, then have her take either one of the others with her.” Rukle nodded and turned to walk away. Cooper added, “And if Birt grabbed Gaff to go with him, tell him to take one of the others instead.” Rukle continued walking but raised a hand to indicate that he’d understood and Cooper went to find Gaff.
After everyone dispersed to their assigned tasks, Cooper returned to Birt’s handiwork. He wasn’t so much studying it as staring at it while sifting through his own observations. Spen walked over to join him and Cooper glanced up as he approached, “They left you here with me, eh?” Spen nodded and squatted low to shift one of the rocks in the ‘quarry’, the workmen’s hut. Spen’s voice sounded a little rough as he spoke, “Thanks for not prying.” Cooper shifted himself to a seated position, “Prying? Oh, about your childhood horse ride?” Spen nodded, “I know we all come from somewhere. We all have our personal tales of woe. I just fail to see any benefit in sharing, and re-living, mine.” Cooper let a few seconds pass as he formed his reply, “I’ll not ask, but I will explain a possible benefit of sharing.” Spen quickly replied in a voice laden with bitterness, “If you’re about to tell me that I’ll ‘feel better’ after sharing, you can save your breath.” Cooper took a breath, uncertain how to respond, “No. I wasn’t about to suggest that. What I will suggest is that you keep in mind who it is that you’re talking to. I am not your pal. We might, one day, grow to become friends, but as it stands…” Spen became silent and Cooper continued, “What I was about to say is that I know Gaff was a Waterfront kid. That tells me that he knows his way around that neighborhood. I can send him on tasks in the Waterfront, and if something isn’t right, he’d likely recognize it before some kid from the Dregs would.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Spen spoke first, “My father was a fairly wealthy merchant, or at least I think he was. We lived in an estate in the Grid. I can’t remember which one. As near as I understand it, another merchant, a competitor, was able to drive my father either out of business or into unrecoverable debt. My father hung himself to escape the shame. That, along with the fact that we were destitute and forced from our home, drove my mother mad. She was unable to care for me, or herself. I was taken by the Guild and placed in a House, the southern Waterfront House.”
Cooper waited a few seconds, to make sure Spen had finished, before he replied, “That’s much more information than I needed. ‘Born in the Grid and moved to the southern Waterfront’ would’ve been good enough.” Spen stood up abruptly and fairly spat the words, “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?!” Cooper shrugged, “Not by birth, but perhaps by nature.” He stood slowly, “My concerns are to rebuild the Guild. To free as many of our captured members as possible, from the quarry and Serpent Tooth Prison, while keeping the rest of us alive in the meantime. Perhaps once we’ve accomplished a few of those things I’ll feel better prepared to show sympathy. But even then, I doubt it.” He took a breath, then quickly added, “I said I wouldn’t pry. I meant it. I wanted to know a little of your background, not your history. As you observed, we all have stories of our own. I suspect that Loryn has some truly horrific memories, but without knowing any of that, I already know everything I need to know about her. If you’re upset, I am not here to console you.” Spen looked defeated. He sat down in the dust beside Birt’s mound of dirt, “Loryn is pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Cooper squatted down before he replied, “You all are.” Spen looked up at Cooper with an expression of curiosity. Cooper continued, “Utsef knew that too. He’d have never let me bring you all back here if he thought otherwise.”
They occupied themselves by returning to the hole being dug as a temporary vault and had been digging for several minutes when they heard a deep rumbling from the southeast. They stopped and stepped outside. Both of them looked skyward and Spen commented, “It’s a little early for seasonal storms to be blowing in, but it looks like we’ve got rain coming.” Cooper nodded, “Let’s get Birt’s miniature quarry covered up. If we don’t go tonight, or if things change, then we may still want to use it.” They quickly gathered some furs and laid them over the mound. They were still weighing the furs down with rocks when Gaff returned. Cooper asked him, “Anything?” Gaff shook his head, “Mardon said they've been paddling across a few times each day, but when they come back they wait until a small group c
omes to join them on the boardwalk, then they mill around, exchanging greetings and pleasantries for a minute or so, then they disperse in pairs. Leaving two or three men to watch them leave. ‘Checking to see if anyone takes notice’, Mardon said. Not that there’s any way of knowing who needs to be followed, anyway.” Cooper nodded, thinking, “At some point it may be necessary to follow them all.” The three of them returned to the task at hand and finished weighing the furs down with rocks and bricks, then stepped back inside and began inspecting their own roof. Spen suggested they build a tent above the hole they’d dug, saying, “I’d rather not have spent all that effort digging only to have it fill with water.” Cooper was still looking upward as he commented, “The patch work you all did with the roof looks pretty good.” Gaff added, “That may be, but it’s untested. And we should expect some wind to accompany the rain.” Cooper nodded, “Good point.” He looked around at their remaining supplies, “We don’t have enough furs to make a full tent. Not even if we add a few oilcloth cloaks.” Spen offered, “We’ve enough for a small lean-to. Winds might affect the roof, but it shouldn’t get too bad in here.” The sounds of thunder were becoming more frequent but that still didn’t drown out the clop of hooves and the clatter of approaching wagons. Cooper looked from the door, back at the two Journeymen, “Do what you can with it. I should take a look at our transportation.”
