by Brian Keller
Considering the fact that the ladies didn’t have an equipped kitchen, breakfast was delicious. After filling his belly he felt a little sluggish but there was no time to let things settle. He had tasks of his own to fulfill.
The silversmith he’d commissioned must have seen him coming and recognized him, despite his change in clothes. There were four gleaming copper tubes laying on the counter. The caps were so snug he needed to work at it to twist them off. “Almost perfect”, he thought. He offered an additional silver coin above their agreed price, “As a special order fee. I may have more work for you in the future.” The silversmith looked cagily at the tubes, “Ye’ll want to be careful who sees ya walkin’ ‘round wit’ those.” Cooper paused as he slipped them into a sack and cautiously asked, “Should I have any reason for concern? Has anyone expressed interest in who placed this order?” The silversmith replied quickly, “No. No, nuthin’ like that. Jes’ be mindful.” Cooper leaned forward over the counter, “We watch over those that do good business with us. The opposite is also true. If someone took special notice, it’d be best for you if you let me know; and if I find out that you passed that information deliberately… well, there might still be a chance to set that right.” Cooper remembered all too well, hope was a powerful tool when trying to learn the truth from someone that sought to conceal it. The craftsman looked even more uncomfortable, “No, lad. Nobody. If I’da thought about it, I’da jes’ kep’ my mouth shut an’ kep’ my advice ta meself. Fergit I said anythin’.”
Cooper knew that the boardwalks of the Trade Quarter and the Waterfront would be crowded this time of the morning. After leaving the shop, he went straight east and wove through the crowd until he reached the river. No one seemed to pay any attention to him but he took a few extra turns in the Waterfront, just to be sure.
Once back in the Ruins he gathered a few sheets of parchment, a quill and an inkpot from Mister Ysel’s supplies and penned out two identical messages. He took them to Mister Ysel for proofreading. As the man read through it, his eyebrows raised, “If you’re serious about making this deal… well, he’d have to be a fool to ignore it!” Cooper smiled, “I agree. And I am serious. Besides, it’s a bargain for us and we still benefit.” Cooper turned his palms upward, “In fact, I doubt we’d get much benefit at all if he didn’t accept the deal.” Mister Ysel glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “We could if you re-negotiate terms with the Wharfsiders.” Cooper nodded, “And that’s what I’ll do if neither of these messages get delivered in time.” Mister Ysel considered what he knew, “And if they arrive on their own, never receiving a message? They do tend to travel, after all.” Cooper smiled, “Then I’ll talk to them myself and hope that our Journeymen figure it out and return in time.” Mister Ysel rolled up each message and handed them to him, “Forty days, you said? Is that enough time?” Cooper shrugged, “If everything went perfectly, we could move in half that, but we wouldn’t have everyone here. I’ll plan for forty days, but we’ll call it ‘an approximation’ and see what happens during the next two weeks.” Cooper slid each rolled up message into a tube and capped it firmly then handed them to Mister Ysel, “You have some wax, don’t you, sir?” Mister Ysel accepted the tubes with a nod and Cooper added, “When you seal them, please add a tag with the recipient’s name. I still need to give the Journeymen some specific instructions but if you can finish these up, I can leave for the Waterfront now.” Mister Ysel smiled, “Have you ever wondered about Jarell’s end goals, or his methods?” This made Cooper pause, “I have wondered; speculated even. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve simply picked up where he left off. I often wonder how many of our Masters escaped, and if they did, how will they feel about what we’re planning?” Mister Ysel had an insightful response, “I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about that. From what I know of them, and of your plan, I’d say you’re being bold but you’ve resisted the urge to be impulsive. I’d hope that they’d not only approve; they’d be proud.” There was no need to respond to that. He simply turned and left for the Waterfront.
He didn’t waste any time. He went straight to a vantage point where he could observe one of the remaining storehouses. There were three more that he knew of, but none of them as active as this one. None of them were further to the east, either. He didn’t need to wait long, maybe fifty minutes, but it couldn’t have been an hour, before four men entered the building. Oddly enough, one of them was a local. Ten minutes later, the four men left the building and returned to the Waterfront. Cooper followed them. They took up their customary positions on the boardwalk except that the local man walked further to the southwest along the boardwalk’s edge. Cooper realized, “They’re starting to use locals for lookouts. Smart. Locals will know what’s normal and what doesn’t look right; and he’s picked a spot along a regular patrol route. He’ll see them when they’re still a long ways off.” He wondered how many of these merchants were actually sailors from the Lukasi ships. Each ship could certainly hold more than a dozen people. He began making a mental tally of how many merchants he knew had been killed or captured and realized that he’d probably barely made a dent. A noticeable dent from a Lukasi perspective, no doubt, but that seemed to have done little to stem the flow of Apex.
He watched as a patrol made it’s way along the boardwalk. The local man walked leisurely back to the other three men and gave them a hand signal, jerking his thumb towards the buildings to the north. One of the men left the group and stepped across the walkway in the direction the local had indicated. He was careful to examine the narrow pathway before leaning his back against the side of the building. Cooper smiled as he realized that extra caution was because of him. He idly wondered how reactions might change if he’d brought his bow along and put an arrow through the man’s skull. He put the notion from his mind. He couldn’t allow these attacks to be attributed to the Guild; not yet at least.
As the patrol came closer, Cooper left his spot and walked east, parallel to the boardwalk. Once he was well beyond the three men he turned south. Before stepping onto the boardwalk he wiped his hands across the dusty ground and ran his hands across his face and through his hair. He dragged a sleeve under his nose, then stepped to the water’s edge and waited. As the patrol approached, Cooper put on a frowning, pouting expression and pointed back to the west, in the direction the patrol had come, “Yer jes’ gonna let’em keep doin’ wut they’re doin?! Yer jes’ gonna walk right past’em? Preten’ ya dunno wut’s goin’ on? How much’re they payin’ ye, eh?” The guards had noticed him immediately with some amusement, but with his last sentence he earned their attention as well as their ire. One of the Watch replied gruffy, “Watch yer tongue, lad!” The man started to step toward. He’d already raised an armored fist to give Cooper a thump. Cooper cringed but another of the guards, probably the patrol sergeant, stopped the man, “Waitaminit.” He turned to Cooper, “Suppose you tell us what you’re all worked up about?” Cooper pointed back to the west, “See those three men there? Standing all together? They’re sellin’ Apex. I know it cuz my sister used ta buy it from ‘em, an’ now she’s dead. An’ you all jes’ walk past ‘em like there’s nuthin’ wrong!” The sergeant tried to calm him, “Easy now, lad. How are we supposed to know that?” Cooper looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, “How?! Jes’ tuck away here an’ watch’em if ya don’ b’lieve me!” He turned to leave in a huff, “I can’t stan’ here an’ watch’em anymore. I can’t stan’ the sight of ‘em. If I stay here much longer, I’ll try ta killem myself. That’d mean I’d be dead wi’ my sister.” He turned to leave and the Watch sergeant held out a hand to stop him, “Look. We’ll take a look at them. Alright? But we can’t just go arresting men just because someone points them out.” Cooper tucked his chin and wiped his nose on his sleeve, he let emotion build in his voice so that he nearly sobbed, “Awright.” He took a few steps until he was past the patrol then spoke behind him, over his shoulder, sounding like he was a moment from tears, “Thanks. An’ sorry ‘bout what
I said b’fore.” He then turned north and slipped between two buildings before the twinkle in his eye could give him away. Cooper returned to a spot near where he’d been watching initially, feeling content, satisfied and anonymous.
In fact, Cooper had been noticed. A young boy, Bennet, formerly of Batter’s Field but recently relocated to the Waterfront, had noticed Cooper. Bennet drew a sharp breath in through his nose and held it, “I know him!” he thought. The reasons for Bennet’s relocation were the same reasons for the recognition. The young man he’d just seen talking to the City Watch was the same young man who’d killed his House Father last month, or was it the month before? Still, there was no mistaking him. He didn’t even need to see his face to know it was him. How the men of the Watch couldn’t see it for themselves astounded him. When the young Guild Assassin turned in his direction, his face, especially the eyes, confirmed what he already knew. It was definitely him. He wasn’t sure which of the Guild members frightened him more, probably the other one. The one with the reddish hair. The one who came around every few days to collect coin and information from his new House Father. “Rukle. I think that’s the other one’s name”, Bennet thought, “He’s the one who chopped off my old House Father’s head.” He hadn’t forgotten that and was sure he never would. Helping to drag the heavy, uncooperative, headless body to the river had created quite a lasting memory. He couldn’t say he missed the man, there was no sentiment there. In fact, he seldom felt any emotions other than fear, desperation and dread; and most of those were inextricably tied to hunger.
Bennet kept a curious eye on events as they unfolded. He couldn’t understand why a Guild Assassin would speak with soldiers from the City Watch but perhaps the patrol had been bribed. He wondered how much it would cost to bribe a patrol and imagined how long he could feed himself with that much coin. Whatever was going on, it was sure to be worth watching. After about twenty minutes the patrol began marching back to the west. As they approached three men, two Watchmen silently drew their swords and separated themselves slightly, allowing space to swing them, if needed. They quickly closed in on the three men as several of the locals responded to bared weapons by scattering. Before the three men could react they were hemmed in between the Watch and the bay. One of the men opted for the bay. Without hesitation he dove in and began swimming toward a neighboring pier. The two others were held at sword point and clapped in irons before they could react. As soon as they were secured, one of the soldiers put something to his lips and a piercing squeal could be heard all along the boardwalk. A team of the Secret Police (why anyone would think of them as “secret” was something he’d never understand) responded and the soldier pointed them to the next pier and extended his arm aloft and held up a single finger. Bennet looked back to where the Guild Assassin had been standing. He was already gone.
Cooper wondered what, if anything, would come from the subsequent questioning of the drug peddlers. He expected the City Watch would turn them over to the Spymaster. Aporigh would eventually begin questioning the men of the Watch about the sudden windfall of reliable information. Cooper felt confident that once the Spymaster learned that these reports came from a person with a similar description, he’d naturally want to learn more about his new Waterfront informant. A man in his position would be incurably curious, and made his living by finding connections that others would overlook. Cooper knew he was playing a dangerous game. He needed to appear knowledgeable and motivated, but harmless; but taken too far he’d appear too good to be real and that would cause the Spymaster to simply issue orders to have him captured and brought in for questioning. He could avoid capture surely enough, but that would reveal more about himself than he wanted. He needed to be seen as a regular young man from the Waterfront who happened to bear a grudge against the drug traders. If the Spymaster accepted that premise, he’d likely be inclined to seek out this young man to hire him, and that’s exactly what Cooper wanted.
*****
She couldn’t understand Aporigh’s excitement or his insistence that she accompany him. After several months of his broodiness and unpredictable moods, this was a welcome change. She seldom saw him anxious enough to fidget while he walked, but it seemed that he had more energy than he knew what to do with, and his fidgeting was a result of that overflow. She supposed she should be grateful. Many of her former classmates at the University, when excited or agitated, would use their Talent to build power and either let it bleed off or spend it in a cathartic burst. Either way, that kind of directionless use of Talent in her presence usually gave her a headache.
She had to walk swiftly in order to keep up. Several staircases and connecting hallways later and it became apparent that he was leading her to the dungeon. The Palace dungeons differed in almost all ways from the cells of Serpent Tooth Prison. By comparison, the cells in the palace were almost closer to rooms one would rent at an inn, if it could be overlooked that one wall was made of bars and the other walls, floor and ceiling were bare stone.
Iona couldn’t help but inquire, “Sir, I hope you’re not moving me to new accommodations?” At this, Yoren even managed a brief smile, “No. I’m taking you to meet someone.” She couldn’t help wondering who it might be. Perhaps the Guild Assassin, the one who called himself “Grief” had revealed something and had been moved here from the island prison. Yoren led her down the final steps revealing a long hallway lined with cells. A few soldiers from the City Watch were standing in the hall, speaking with baiting, mocking tones to a few of the inmates.
Instead of the Spymaster directing her to the cells, he led her to the soldiers. They snapped to attention at his approach and he ordered them, “At ease. I’ve brought her here” he gestured to Iona, “so that you could tell her what you’ve told me. Exactly what you’ve told me.” The guards exchanged looks of apprehension, obviously deciding among themselves as to which of them should speak. One of them cleared his throat, “Uh… Milady?” Yoren managed not to chuckle as he informed the men, “This is Iona. My assistant. She is not noble born.” The soldier clicked his heels and nodded to the Spymaster, acknowledging the information, and continued, “Miss, we was patrolling the boardwalk, on orders an-” Yoren cut him off, “Nevermind all that.” He turned to Iona, “I’ll summarize briefly. These soldiers were approached with information leading to the apprehension of those three men,” He swept his hand across three nearby cells, “for the crime of selling Apex.” He turned back to the soldier, “Now, please tell her about the informant.” The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if uncomfortable, or perhaps expecting to be interrupted again. Still, he spoke, as ordered, “He was a young man, miss. Prolly, older’n thirteen but not growin’ whiskers yet, but gettin’ close to it. No taller’n this.” He held a hand a little lower than his shoulder. “Messy, dark hair. Dirty, tear streaked face, red-rimmed eyes an’ a snotty nose. He tol’ us about these men sellin’ Apex. Pointed ‘em out, he did. He said Apex wuz poison an’ how it’d killed his sister.” Yoren cleared his throat and spoke again, “Tell her again about the boy’s eyes. Tell her what you told me.” The soldier looked at his feet, attempting to recall what he’d said, and then raised up, “He had the saddest eyes… but it was like lookin’ down a well. Black, without any bottom to it.”
Iona glanced toward the Spymaster. He was staring at her, watching for her response. She asked simply, “Do you think so?” Yoren smiled, as a cat would smile if it found an unlatched bird cage, “It’s worth checking into, but first there are a few things to consider.” Iona nodded and replied, “True, but as I told you, it looked to me like the Guild was openly opposing Lukasi efforts to bring in slaves. It stands to reason that they’d also oppose the sale of Apex, as well.” Yoren’s facial expression turned sour, “It could be assumed that the Guild is simply opposing a rival. A competitor. And since the Guild is now a burnt out husk, this young Gifted lad is using us to accomplish what the Guild no longer can.” Yoren’s voice trailed off as he grumbled, “It wouldn’t be the fi
rst time that a Guild member co-opted the City Watch, or even the Army.” The closest soldier leaned forward and asked, “Sir?” The Spymaster glared at the man, “Nothing. You’re dismissed.” The guards snapped to attention and marched toward the steps. Yoren called out to their backs, “Wait! Tell the quartermaster to issue three chits to each of you. I’ll check the list later to get your names.” The guards quickly turned to face them, snapped salutes and replied, almost in unison, “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
Yoren turned to face her, “The thing is, he doesn’t know that we know. But considering who he is, and what he is, we’ll need to plan this carefully. First, we need to see if we can bring him in. We’ll make it seem as if we’ve completely accepted his story and simply wish to employ him. If he accepts, we might catch him unaware. Chances are, he’ll recognize the risks involved and have no interest in coming in but we need to try that approach first. We’ve never had a better opportunity than this to capture him. We need to devise a trap suited for him. Soldiers won’t be sufficient, not exclusively anyway. We’ll need to assemble the mages again.” He paused, “And, if your former professor hears about it, he’ll insist that he be included.” He was watching Iona from the corner of his eye. At the mention of the professor she felt her back stiffen. She made a conscious effort to relax and replied , “With any luck, when we spring the trap we can push him out in front to be stabbed dozens of times while we surround the boy.” Yoren smiled widely, “That’s the spirit! Always a silver lining.”
Chapter 16
That afternoon Cooper took the Journeymen to a separate building to discuss their task. Eyes grew wider as he apprised them of several new details and that the messages they carried played an integral role. He re-emphasized, “Be back here in forty days. By then, I’ll either expect to see the results of a successful delivery, or I’ll need to make other arrangements. This might seem like a simple message delivery, but it isn’t.” He held out a copper tube in each hand, “Here are your messages. The recipient’s name is on the tag. You know the rest. Loryn. Balat. Depart as soon as you’re ready. Gaff. Naro. I can tell you a little about Kalistos, if you care to hear it.” Both boys nodded eagerly and Cooper began scratching a diagram in the dirt.
