Kurt had clashed several times with the guild’s leader Adalbert Henschmann, but the two men had forged an uneasy truce by not crossing each other’s paths. This meeting put that peace in distinct peril, but the captain decided the benefits outweighed the risks. Now more than ever, Suiddock needed leadership. Putting his misgivings to one side, Kurt put Scheusal in charge of the station and set off to the meeting on Riddra. He arrived to discover a plethora of bodyguards glaring at each other in front of the club. There were powerful people inside, but all had respected the rules and left their thugs outside.
Kurt was last to arrive at the meeting, held upstairs in the boardroom of the Thieves’ Guild. Henschmann’s hefty bodyguard Helga was reluctant to let him in, until the host snapped at her to stand aside. Kurt surveyed those sat round the table, amazed to see them all present in one room, and at such short notice. It was a testament to Haan’s success in building bridges between the different parts of Suiddock’s diverse community, but mostly it was proof of how seriously everyone was taking the crisis faced by the district.
The alderman was sat at the head of the table, Haan’s shrewd face framed by unruly hair that had as much silver as it did black. Henschmann was to his left, dark hair slicked back close to the scalp, a permanent sneer on his heavyset features. Sat opposite was Lea-Jan Cobbius, master of the Stevedores’ and Teamsters’ Guild, his short, silver hair a stark contrast to skin bronzed by a lifetime spent working the docks, both legally and illegally. Kurt was surprised that Otto was not present, as the priest of Morr could offer some valuable insights on the threat they were facing. But Captain Damphoost from the River Watch was there, dark bags beneath his weary eyes. Next to him was sour-faced Albert Loodemans, guild-master for the Brotherhood of Seamen and Pilots, and younger brother to the late alderman for Suiddock. There was no love lost between him and Haan, for obvious reasons. Last but not least was Arkat Cloverhill, spokesman for the district’s stallholders and market traders. He sold the best sausage pies in Suiddock and was rather too fond of sampling the merchandise, judging by his bulging waistline.
Haan gestured for Kurt to take the last seat at the table, before calling the meeting to order. “I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration to say Suiddock is facing a crisis. This accursed fog has closed the docks, rots cargoes in their holds and sickens all who breathe it in. Businesses have been forced to shut, the markets are closed and citizens are afraid of falling asleep tonight for fear of what nightmares they may face. We need a strategy to deal with these problems until the fog moves on. Suggestions?”
There was a long silence, with each of the men round the table watching each other, seeing who would speak first. Finally, Damphoost broke the silence. “This isn’t a solution, but you might as well hear this from me now, rather than find it out later. The commander of the River Watch has decreed that all maritime traffic to and from Suiddock should be suspended, effective immediately. The docks are already closed, but he wants to prevent any vessels large or small from coming to or leaving the district.”
“Why?” Henschmann demanded. “What possible justification can he have?”
“There’s a feeling in other parts of the city that this is a Suiddock problem. Seers have predicted a great darkness is going to befall Marienburg, spreading outwards from our district like a plague. My commander hopes to stop that with a maritime blockade.”
“That’s outrageous!” Loodemans shouted, banging a fist on the table. “You’re denying my members their livelihoods. How are they supposed to work, supposed to put food on their tables if you paralyse the rivers and canals?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll never work,” Cobbius said. “The docks may be shut, but the River Watch can’t hope to stop everyone in a private boat. Then there’s all the smugglers and other, more disreputable elements, most of whom are armed and ready to fight.” Cobbius paused to look at Henschmann. “You’ll never stop all of them.”
“He’s right,” Kurt observed. “You’re short-staffed as it is. Taal’s teeth, how are you supposed to maintain a blockade with only a handful of watchmen?”
Damphoost grimaced. “The commander’s reallocated half of all River Watch craft in the city to the blockade. The boats are forming a barrier out on the water right now.”
Henschmann snorted. “How long do you think this blockade will hold?”
“I don’t know,” Damphoost conceded. “But I have my orders.”
“This is madness,” Cloverhill protested. “There are only two bridges connecting Suiddock with the rest of Marienburg, the Hoogbrug to the north and the Draaienbrug to the south. You’ll choke both of them by stopping river traffic. Most of the goods sold in this district come from the docks, or over water from other parts of the city. People will be running out of food by this time tomorrow. There’ll be riots across Suiddock!”
“And my members will be at the head of them,” Loodemans promised.
“Gentlemen,” Haan cut in. “We need solutions, not threats and accusations.”
“Until this fog lifts and the port reopens, there are no solutions,” Cobbius retorted. “This district, this whole city lives and dies by the health and prosperity of its docks. Without trade Marienburg will suffer a slow death that could take months, even years. Without the docks or river traffic, Suiddock will perish within weeks, maybe days.”
The meeting broke down into arguments and accusations, leaders from each faction shouting to be heard over one another. Damphoost slumped back in his seat, unable or unwilling to get involved. Kurt could hear the sound of stomping boots outside the building despite the arguments within. The stomping was getting louder, closer, but the others inside the meeting room ignored it. Kurt rose from his seat and went to the nearest window. What he saw through the fog below sent a shudder down his spine.
The captain gestured to Haan, and the alderman joined him by the window. Below were a dozen men in long black cloaks, wide-brimmed hats casting their grim faces in shadow. The twelve marched at the club, intent on entering the building. The bodyguards united against this common foe, coming together to block the way. The battle was swift, savage and its outcome never in doubt. Once the bodyguards had been dealt with, three from among the twelve marched into the building.
Haan’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kurt said. “You did everything you could. What happens next, nobody can blame you for that.”
“But they will,” the alderman sighed.
The sound of fighting on the stairs outside the meeting silenced the arguments between those still at the table. Henschmann stood, uncertainty evident on his face. “Helga? What’s happening out there? Helga?”
The door swung open and an imposing figure entered, black cloak swirling around him. The shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat hid most of his face, but Kurt could still recognise the cruel mouth and thin lips. One hand clutched a holy book, the other a flintlock pistol. “How kind of you all to gather in one place, it saves me having to repeat what I’m about to say—”
“How dare you storm in here!” Henschmann raged. “This is private property. You have no jurisdiction over this place, or anyone within it!”
“I suspect he does,” Kurt said, stepping between the two men. “Allow me to introduce Brother Nathaniel of the Temple Court. The good brother is a stickler for rules and regulations—bell, book and candle, you might say.”
“Witch hunters,” Loodemans snarled, spitting on the floor. “Shouldn’t allow them inside the city walls. Get more sense out of a fen loony.”
“Silence!” Nathaniel produced a roll of parchment and threw it on the meeting table. “You will see from this document—signed by the leaders of the Stadsraad and commanders from both the City and River Watch—that I have every right and authorisation for my actions. The entirety of Suiddock and its surrounding waterways are now under my jurisdiction, until I see fit to surrender that jurisdiction.”
Haan picked up the parchment, casting a cursory eye across the s
crawl of black ink, appended with several signatures and a seal of red wax and gold ink. “It’s the truth.”
“Of course it’s the truth,” Nathaniel said. “Lying is anathema to a witch hunter.”
“Enough,” Cobbius broke in. “Say what you came to say, Brother Nathaniel.”
“My brethren have detected the foul stench of dark magic in Suiddock. Until we find, root out and destroy the source of that dark magic, this entire district is hereby placed under quarantine. No vessel can come or go by sea until further notice—”
“You’re a bit late with that,” Cloverhill said, bitterness in his voice. “Damphoost and his River Watch have already set up a blockade around Suiddock.”
Nathaniel nodded his appreciation to the captain. “Glad to see somebody in this benighted district has the sense to put appropriate measures in place.”
“What else?” Kurt asked.
“Nobody may leave Suiddock by any means, on land or by sea. My brethren are cutting off all traffic at the two bridges that connect this district to the rest of Marienburg. However, our numbers within the city are limited, and much of our time and resources must be devoted to finding those responsible for this infestation of dark magic. So another agency will be principally responsible for manning the bridges, and stopping anyone from entering or leaving Suiddock.” Nathaniel smirked at Kurt. “I hope your Black Caps are up to the challenge, Captain Schnell. Those that fail or shirk their responsibilities will be declared heretics and made to stand trial.”
“Are you quite mad?” Kurt demanded. “The moment word of this quarantine leaks out, the first thing every citizen in Suiddock will do is try to get out of the district. You expect my handful of men to stop them? Armed with what—harsh language?”
“How you implement my edicts is your choice,” Nathaniel replied. He leaned closer to Kurt, hissing in his ear. “I told you last year I would make your Black Caps suffer for impeding my investigations. Consider this task your payment for that.”
Cobbius got to his feet with steely resolve, before marching round the table to confront Kurt, Damphoost and Nathaniel. There was no trace of anger in his voice, just a flinty determination that spoke far louder than any shouting. “I don’t care who has given you authority or jurisdiction, what gods you believe in or what credo you may preach. Know this: any attempt to put Suiddock under quarantine will fail.”
“Is that a threat?” Nathaniel demanded.
“Consider it a warning,” Cobbius replied as he walked out. “Sound advice from a concerned citizen. This district will be in an uproar when the people hear about your plans, Brother Nathaniel. Once that happens, there’s nothing you can do to stop them.”
Kurt stepped in front of Cobbius, to prevent him leaving. “If news of the quarantine were to leak out before dawn, the consequences could be devastating. Imagine what would happen if everyone in Suiddock tried to flee from the district tonight. You’ve heard about the hallucinations, the nightmares. Now multiply that by every single person in the district, trying to get away in boats or across two narrow bridges. It’d be carnage, innocent citizens trampling each other to death in the darkness, unable to see where they’re going in this damn mist. I’m sure nobody wants that on their conscience.”
Cobbius glared at Kurt for a long moment. “No, I’m sure they don’t. But I’m just as certain that everybody will hear the truth about this quarantine first thing tomorrow.” He pushed past the watchman, and strode from the meeting room.
Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at Kurt. “You gave him tacit permission to unleash anarchy on this district at dawn, Captain Schnell.”
“I’m ensuring as many people as possible get through this alive, that’s all.” Kurt jabbed a finger in the witch hunter’s chest. “You might want to think about doing the same. What’s the point in saving this city from the clutches of dark magic, if there are no souls left alive in Marienburg when the battle’s been won?”
Kurt stalked from the meeting room, leaving a thoughtful Nathaniel by the windows while greasy yellow fog swirled outside. The witch hunter didn’t notice the slime of a dozen snails that glistened on the glass.
CHAPTER EIGHT
At Three Penny Bridge the eve of Geheimnistag was spent organising the Black Caps into two fighting forces, one led by Scheusal, the other by Holismus. Ganz grumbled about not being given leadership, until Kurt took a show of hands among the other watchmen to find whom among them wanted Ganz to take charge. Nobody raised a hand in support of the former soldier. He stormed from the station, muttering curses at his colleagues and Kurt in particular. The captain was grateful Ganz had gone, as such a sour presence would have been a massive drain on morale.
Kurt let Scheusal and Holismus pick the members of their teams. “Take the men you know best, the men who instinctively understand your tactics. The decisions you make now could determine who’s alive this time tomorrow.” Scheusal opted for Silenti and Potts, the sergeant knowing the watch commander’s nephew had to be protected from harm. Holismus took Bescheiden and Kramer, having often patrolled with both of them. Neither could be claimed as the city’s best fighters, but Holismus knew their strengths and that would be important for what lay ahead.
The rest of the Black Caps got divided evenly between the groups. All were new recruits who’d joined in the past year, some so recently Kurt was still discovering their capabilities, their strengths and weaknesses. While Holismus and Scheusal chose their troops, Kurt released all remaining prisoners from the holding cells and sent them home. He didn’t want their fate on his conscience, but mostly he didn’t want any witnesses from outside the Black Caps to hear what he had to say next.
Once the forces were forged, Kurt told the watchmen about the challenge ahead. “When word of the witch hunters’ quarantine spreads—and it will spread, trust me on that—there will be panic. Expect everything from begging mothers carrying babies, pleading to be let out into the rest of the city, through to armed gangs of stevedores and teamsters charging the bridges with hurt in their hearts. Do not use force unless force is required. These are our neighbours, our friends, some of them may even be family—but none of them can pass. This quarantine must remain in force as long as possible.”
Potts raised a hand. “You don’t have to ask permission to speak,” Kurt told the new recruit, getting a laugh from the other Black Caps.
“Why is there a quarantine?” Potts asked.
“Suiddock is tainted by dark magic,” Kurt replied. “Personally, I suspect the taint has already spread well beyond this district, but the witch hunters believe it can be contained here and they’re in charge—for now. That could well change, but not yet.” The captain looked at his sergeant. “Scheusal, I want you and your men to take the Hoogbrug bridge. I know it’s asking a lot, but we must hold it as long as we can.”
“Why the Hoogbrug?” the sergeant asked. “We could achieve much the same effect by blocking the Niederbrug between Luydenhoek and Hightower Isle. It’s a smaller bridge, easier to hold and still cuts off the only dry route north.”
“True, but our orders stipulate the Hoogbrug, like it or not. Most people may not consider Hightower Isle part of Suiddock, but it is to the witch hunters.” Kurt turned to Holismus. “Your first task at Draaienbrug is to disable the swing-bridge facility, otherwise people south of the Bruynwater could use that against you.”
Holismus nodded. “From what time do you want the quarantine enforced?”
“Dawn,” the captain replied. “I’m not having any of you out in this fog overnight. Any fool stupid enough to go out in the mist deserves what they get. Better that we all try and get some sleep tonight. Geheimnistag is going to be a very, very long day.”
Damphoost had given his maritime watchmen orders to leave the water by sunset. All but one of the boats were back as the sun finally surrendered its uneven battle with the fog over Suiddock, and darkness swallowed any last lingering shafts of light and hope. As the temperature dropped across the district, so the m
ist thickened until visibility was less than an arm’s length on land and water. The last riverboat drifted into the jetty an hour later, but of the two crewmen there was little evidence. Belladonna had the wooden boat brought indoors for further study, but what she found offered no comfort.
“Who was out in this?” she asked once the other watchmen had turned in.
“Kemp and Ragan,” Damphoost said. “Good men, both of them.”
“I’m sorry, but they’re almost certainly dead.”
The captain ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “How can you tell?”
Belladonna showed him scratch marks on the boat’s underside. “These were made by fingernails, somebody clawing at the wood, trying to get a grip on it.” Next she pointed out a crimson spray on the inside of the hull. “That’s human blood. See the way it’s spattered the interior? That’s what you could expect if someone’s throat had been cut or sliced open.” Finally, she pulled a human tooth from the opposite edge of the boat. “This was embedded with massive force. I’d say someone or something rammed a head down on this edge. The impact would have knocked them out, if not killed them.”
Damphoost studied the tooth. “This must belong to Ragan. Kemp lost his own teeth years ago, liked to wear a false set he’d carved himself from wood.”
“Two things may have happened here,” Belladonna concluded. “Either your two watchmen went insane and beat each other to death out on the water—”
[Marienburg 02] - A Massacre in Marienburg Page 12
