“It’s not conceit for a man to know his worth.”
“And you know yours down to the last cent.”
He looked puzzled. “Cent?”
She wrinkled her brow, casting about for the correct term. “Garro,” she said, recalling the term for the Durngarian coin of least value.
Mauric’s eyes twinkled. “And what might your own worth to be, Rainey girl?”
She climbed to her feet, still clutching the soggy boot. “Oh, I reckon I’m worth a few garros to the Dark Wizard.”
The twinkle in Mauric’s eyes faded. “You shouldn’t say such things, even in jest.” He reached for the ties at his waist. “Now, unless you’ve an itch to see me mother naked, you’d best leave. After a week in the river, I’m water logged and eager to get into some dry things.”
Raine dropped the boot, and hurried back to the fire.
More than two weeks later, they limped into the Bay of Gar. Raine left the stern, where she’d been helping Prude scrub pots following the midday meal, and got her first look at Gambollia. The city wasn’t what she’d expected. After weeks on the river, she was eager to be on dry land again, but “dry land” was a relative term. Gambollia was an island metropolis.
Raine gazed glumly at the water locked clumps of land. At this rate, she’d mildew.
Braxx gave the helm to one of his crew and joined her. “Gambollia,” he announced with evident pride. “The great Dog, as it were. The city is made up of three islands called bars. You got your Head, your Body, and your Tail. The Head and Body are connected to one another by bridges.”
“Bars,” Raine said, committing the term to memory.
“The Head’s our destination,” Braxx said. “Oldest part of the city and the busiest and most dangerous. Ships from all over there.” He pointed to a row of stone structures. “The warehouses. A fortune in goods within those walls from ports north and south.”
“Which one of the bars is that?” Raine indicated a finger of land in the distance with sprawling mansions.
“That would be the Tail.”
“I don’t see a bridge.”
“Ain’t one,” Braxx said. “Onliest way to get there is by boat, and then with permission. The Tail’s where the la-di-dahs live, away from the noise and stench of the common folk and the city proper.”
“La-di-dahs?”
“The rich merchants and guild leaders. Them with the money and say-so.” He chuckled. “That’s why in Gambollia we say the Tail wags the Dog.”
The barge sailed out of the mouth of the river and the water horses turned toward the largest bar called the Head. Raine stood at the prow, taking it all in. Many of the original buildings on the Head’s waterfront had long since crumbled into the bay. Newer, flimsier structures had been hastily erected on the bones of the old ones, giving the whole thing the look of a cake on the verge of collapse.
Beyond the wharves was a rabbit warren of narrow, tumble-down streets.
“The Spree,” said Braxx. “A regular cesspool of brothels, drug dens, gaming pits—in short, a trap for the foolhardy or them with more money than sense. I caution my men to steer clear of it, but, if they’re busting at the seams, I let ’em go. Make ’em travel in pairs so’s they won’t get their gullets slit and their pockets emptied.”
“And the Great Market?” Raine asked, fascinated. “Where is that?”
Braxx waved his arm, indicating an area beyond the docks. “T’other side of the Spree at the center of the bar. You got a hankering for anything particular?”
“A wizard stone. Gertie says I can get one there.”
“Aye, that you can,” Braxx said. “It’s a risky business, magery, but if you’re set on the notion, you’ll find what you need in the Great Market. Everything there from jewelry to jug-jug fish.”
“Jug-jug?”
“Bottom dwellers, and mighty fine eating. A few streets over, you’ll find the counting houses. Fortunes made and lost there in the trade of goods.”
“Where’s the Body?”
“Between the Head and the Tail, o’ course,” Braxx said. “Most folks live and work on the Body. There are shops and cafes there, and an open-air theater. A library, too, or so they tell me. Ain’t been there m’ self. Too much learning addles a man’s brain.”
As they neared the Head, the wind shifted and the stench of the city washed over them. Gambollia reeked of humanity, garbage, sewage, and rotting fish.
Raine gagged and covered her nose with the sleeve of her cloak. “Gah. It stinks.”
“Try having this snoot.” Gertie’s expression was mournful. “I’ve smelled it three days past.”
Braxx handed Raine a sachet. “See if this helps, lass.”
She held the packet of pungent herbs to her nose and inhaled. The peppery spices made her sneeze, but the miasma of the city became tolerable.
Braxx offered Gertie a similar packet, but she declined. “Thanks all the same, Captain. I need all my senses sharp to navigate the Spree.” She turned to Raine. “You, girlie. Go hide among the crates. Glonoff’s agents will have posted your picture along the wharves.”
“But—” Raine protested. “I want to see the city.”
“You’ll see the city, and soon enough.”
Feeling much put upon, Raine did as she was told. Unable to contain her curiosity, she peeked around the boxes as the barge lumbered up to the dock. Gertie stood next to Braxx, the hood of her robe drawn up to conceal her ugly features. They’d tied off next to a dilapidated vessel. Unable to read the name on the side of the boat, Raine crawled on her hands and knees to a stack of boxes with a better view. Faded lettering on the side of the heap proclaimed it to be the Dog’s Tooth.
“Ho, Braxx, you old river rat,” a man on the ramshackle barge called.
“How do, Rass?” Braxx returned. “They hittin’ the water yet?”
“Wrinkly but hangin’ right where they ought ’er. Can’t say the same fer you. You look as though you’ve sewn the corpse and gone through the hoop.”
“We had us a bit of a run-in with a mud goggin, but we’ve hogged her out now.” Under his breath, Braxx said to Gertie, “A rum ’n, Rass. Take a gander at his vessel and you’ll have his mark. Disgraceful bucket of slops. My chamber pot’s cleaner ’n his deck.”
“An image I could have done without,” Gertie said.
“A mud goggin, you say?” Rass scratched his scraggly beard. “Must have been a big ’un, from the looks of you.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.” Braxx continued in an undertone, “Don’t let that disgraceful jabber-jaws set his peepers on the gal. It’s one galley packet after another with him. If he spent half as much time tending to his boat as he does spinning rumors, he’d be better off.”
“Thank you for the advice, Captain,” Gertie said. “We’ll wait until dark to disembark.”
“It ’ud be for the best. No offense, but even in a city this size, a troll’s bound to draw attention.” Braxx cleared his throat. “Which puts me in mind of something I’ve been meaning to ask. I’d take it kindly if you’d leave Chaz with me. I’ve no children of m’ own, and I’ve grown fond o’ the lad.”
Gertie shook her head. “The boy comes with us. I don’t think Raine found him by accident. And, there’s something peculiar about him. I think the boy may have talent.”
“Talent?” Braxx looked taken aback. “You mean, the mablet’s a wizard? Gar.”
“As to that, it’s too soon to tell, but, in any case, he’s better off with us.”
“I suppose you’re right. Leastways, if he do be a wizard, I know you’ll learn him right, you being a kolyagga, and all.” Braxx sighed. “But I’m gonna miss the little swamp lizard, and no lie.”
They moved off, leaving Raine alone in her hiding place. The hours crept by. Still, no one checked on her. The sun set and darkness fell.
By the time Mauric came to fetch her, Raine was out of patience and feeling ill-used.
Mauric held out his hand. “Need help?”
“Thank you,” Raine said, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I’ve been sitting here forever. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“You sound out of sorts, lass.”
“Out of sorts, nothing. I’m mad as fire. You try squatting behind a crate for the better part of a day, and see how you feel.”
Ignoring Mauric’s amused grin, Raine hobbled over to Gertie and Chaz, who were with the captain.
Gertie handed Braxx a jingling pouch. “Your bonus, as promised. You’ve earned this and more.”
“Keep your money,” Braxx said, pushing the troll’s paw away. “I won’t take another garro. You’ve already paid me and trained me up a cook besides.”
Gertie’s brows rose. “Captain, you are full of surprises.”
Braxx grunted and stared at his boots. “Surprise myself, and that’s the truth. By Gar, I like you, Madam Troll—and not just because you’re a fine cook. Never had much truck with wizards—nor trolls neither, now I think on it—but you’re a fine companion. A bit too free with other people’s belongings, mayhap, but a fine companion, nonetheless, and I’m here to tell you to your face, you’re welcome aboard the Lady, any time, and no charge.”
A strange expression flitted across Gertie’s ugly face. “Thank you, Braxx.” She blinked rapidly, and seemed to collect herself. “Well?” she said, rounding on Mauric. “What are you waiting for? Say your goodbyes, and be quick about it. It’s high time we were on our way.”
Jerking the hood of her robe over her misshapen head, Gertie stomped away.
“Was it something I said?” Braxx asked, gazing after the troll in bewilderment.
“She’s touched by your words, and that makes her angry. She likes to pretend she doesn’t care about people, but she does. Too much.” Mauric grinned and shook the captain’s hand. “Stay out of the shallows and have a care for your cattle.”
“That I’ll do,” Braxx said. “There’s a place for you on the Lady if you ever grow tired of warrioring.” He removed the necklace he wore and slipped it over Chaz’s head. “I want you to have this, boy. It’s a likeness of Gar. Don’t have much use for the gods myself, nor them for me, but mayhap it will bring you luck. At any rate, I want you to have it. See you mind your elders, you hear?”
“Aye, Cap’n, and thankee.”
“You’re welcome.” Braxx ruffled the boy’s curls, his throat working. “Get along with you.”
Mauric and Chaz walked away, leaving the captain to say goodbye to Raine. “Well, now, miss,” Braxx said. “I reckon this is where we part.”
Raine took his callused hand. “I guess it is. It’s been an adventure, hasn’t it?”
“That it has.” Braxx’s weathered face broke into a smile. “I’ll have a few stories to tell that scoundrel, Rass, won’t I? Not that he’ll believe ’em.” He glanced around, and leaned in close. “A word of advice from an old river horse. I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re running from, but stick close to the troll. She’s a good man in a fight—if you take my meaning—and she’ll see you through, right and tight.” He looked at her closely. “You will do as I say, won’t you?”
Raine kissed him on his whiskered cheek. “I don’t think I have much choice.”
“Go on with you, before I get all gumpers,” Braxx said. “You don’t want an old wharf ape to cry, do you?”
Raine gave him a fierce hug. “No, we can’t have that.”
Stepping back, she adjusted the hood of Mauric’s cloak to hide her face, and went to join the others on the gangplank.
The four of them silently left the barge and paused on the stone quay.
“What’s it to be, the main bridge, or a garpolla to the Body?” Mauric asked.
“Garpolla,” Gertie said. “It’s late and the bridge is closed. We’d want to avoid it, in any event. We’re too easy to remember.” Gertie turned to Raine. “Hold onto the boy and try to keep up. The Spree is no place for innocents or children.”
“I’m twenty-five, Gertie. I’m hardly innocent.”
“That right? Been through the Spree before, have you?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“Then you’re innocent. Now, stop arguing and do as you’re told.”
Sword drawn, Mauric stalked ahead of them. Holding tight to Chaz’s hand, Raine walked behind the warrior. Gertie brought up the rear. The troll had abandoned her boots, and her claws clicked on the cobblestones as she padded down the street, her hulking form exuding menace. Her face was hidden by the cowl of her robe, but for the tips of her tusks and snout. Her nose quivered in the night air, whether from the awful smell or from predatory caution, Raine could not tell.
Though it was well after midnight, late-night revelers crowded the streets, and light, smoke, and noise poured from open doorways. Human predators prowled in the gloom, looking for easy pickings, but Mauric’s cold, hard expression and the shambling figure of the troll deterred them, and they were left unmolested. The stench of sweat and unwashed bodies, stale smoke, spilled ale, sour wine, and human refuse were overpowering. Glancing down an alley, Raine glimpsed a drunk slumped against a wall, stripped naked and left for the morning watch. In the shadows, a man and woman grappled in an age-old dance of lust. She quickly averted her gaze and ushered Chaz past, leading him over paving stones slimy with beer, vomit, and worse.
Mauric set a brisk pace, and they soon left the debauchery of the stews behind for a quiet area of tumbledown houses.
“Who lives here?” Raine asked, pausing to look at the shoddy dwellings.
“Dock workers and Spree folk,” Gertie said. “Stop gawking and move.”
They left the housing ward and stepped onto a broad avenue that followed an oily ribbon of water.
Mauric pointed across the canal to a row of huge buildings. “The counting houses.”
A lacy bridge spanned the channel, but, as Gertie had predicted, the gates to the bridge were closed and locked, and armed guards patrolled the walkways. In the distance, a group of slender red boats rocked beneath a flickering lamp. Boatmen lazed nearby waiting for fares.
The sight of the crescent-shaped boats bobbing up and down in the water made Raine’s stomach clench. Chaz, however, was delighted.
“Look at the little boats,” he cried.
“Are those garpollas?” Raine asked, feeling queasy.
“Yes,” Gertie said. “The gates to the Great Market and Fortune Square close at sunset. Anyone entering or leaving the Spree after dark must go by garpolla. The boatmen do a brisk trade, but it’s late, and fares will be few and far between.”
Raine watched the dirty water slosh against the banks. “What’s to keep people from swimming across to the market at night to steal things?”
“Some do, to their regret,” Mauric said. “The bay is full of man-eating fish, and they come into the canals at night to feed on the occasional drunk that falls into the water. Even if someone were lucky enough to make it across without getting eaten, the market and the counting houses are heavily guarded. Anyone caught near Fortune Square after dark is executed, no questions asked. Most folks have sense enough to stay away.”
“Yay,” Raine muttered, eyeing the greasy water. “The fun never ends.”
Gertie took one of the boatmen aside, a short, wiry man dressed in a vest and flowing trousers gathered at the ankles, and began to speak rapidly. As they bartered, the boatman kept trying to peer beneath the deep cowl of Gertie’s hood, but the troll took care to stay in the shadows.
They argued back and forth for a time; then the boatman threw up his hands. “Ten garvons it is, but only because the bay is calm and I hate sitting around in the cold.”
Chaz tugged at Raine’s hand. “Hurry u
p, Raine. I want to ride.”
Reluctantly, Raine let him pull her to the waiting boat, a flimsy affair with a paper-thin hull. Mauric placed himself at the front and Chaz scrambled in after him. Gertie went next, taking a seat near the boatman.
“Come on, Raine,” Chaz said, bouncing with excitement on his seat. “It’s going to be fun.”
Raine gathered her courage and stepped into the vessel. The boat dipped and she squeaked in alarm and quickly sat down, clutching the side of the boat.
The boatman chuckled. “Have no fear. Kaffo will get you there, safe and sound.”
He untied the garpolla and pushed the boat into the canal with a long pole, then sat down to ply the oars. He froze, staring at the hairy paws protruding from the hem of Gertie’s robe.
“What is this?” he demanded in a strident tone. “Kaffo does not ferry animals on his garpolla.”
“Mind your tongue, you,” Mauric said, drawing his knife.
“Put the knife away, Mauric. I’ll handle this.” Pushing back the sleeves of her voluminous robe, Gertie flexed her claws. “We bartered and you accepted. You’ll take us to the Body. Or else.”
Kaffo’s thin chest swelled. “Or else what? I will tell the guild of this outrage, and you will be thrown in jail.”
“Don’t you dare threaten us, you horrible little man,” Raine snapped, balling up her fists. “Shut up and row the garffin boat, or so help me, I’ll dump your skinny ass in the canal.”
Mauric chuckled. “You heard the lady. Row.”
Muttering, Kaffo manned the oars. The noise of the Spree receded as the garpolla glided away from the dock and across the water to the Great Market and Fortune Square. The market and the counting houses were closed, but the waterway between them was not, and they entered the torch-lined canal. The counting houses were impressive, massive stone edifices that faced one another across the water like rows of stone combatants. A series of feathery arches spanned the canal, connecting them.
Raine gave the huge buildings the briefest of glances. She heartily wished she were back on the barge with Braxx. The barge was solid, and the captain inspired confidence. Not so the garpolla. This rickety boat was a glorified coffee filter, and they were in shark-infested waters. She hated it. She hated the slimy water, and the idea of what was in it. Hungry things with teeth and a craving for human flesh. She hated the gargantuan counting houses, too, squatting on the edge of the canal like evil toads.
A Meddle of Wizards Page 25
