by A. C. Cobble
“Do you think she’s still here?” wondered Amelie.
“There’s no way of knowing until we land,” responded Rhys. “She could be, or she could have traveled inland.”
“We sneak in,” declared Ben.
“It’s broad daylight,” reminded Amelie, “and this vessel is going to be closely watched. An emissary from the South Continent will draw the interest of the Merchant’s Guild, the Veil if she’s here, and Saala.”
Ben scratched at his scar, frowning. They didn’t have a choice of vessels, so there was no use second-guessing the ride with O’ecca, but Amelie had a point. Their arrival would be almost as public as the Veil’s.
“What if we stay in hiding and then see who comes calling?” she suggested. “Whatever representatives arrive with messages for O’ecca will let us know which powerful players are in the city.”
Ben shrugged. “That’s a better plan than I have.”
“Well,” said Rhys, “enjoy the sunlight for another bell, then we need to get below deck. They won’t wait long when they see the Emperor’s flag.”
As Amelie expected, a torrent of messages from well-wishers, favor-seekers, and the simply curious began to arrive as soon as they dropped anchor. At first, it was representatives from the Merchant’s Guild offering their hospitality and invitations to dinners to discuss expanded relationships with the South Continent. Then, exiles and South Continent citizens began to arrive. Small vendors came after that, offering their wares, but when O’ecca refused to let any of them board, their presence tapered off. Finally, a vessel showed up with a lord from one of Whitehall’s noble houses and a mage of the Sanctuary.
Ben and his friends peered out of curtained windows as the smaller craft pulled aside O’ecca’s cog. She would meet them on deck and then bring them to her study where Ben and his friends could eavesdrop from her bedroom.
At first glance, it appeared the Alliance and the Sanctuary were uneasy allies at best. The lord and the mage stood on opposite sides of their boat, and neither one made eye contact as ropes were thrown between the two ships and a platform lowered so the dignitaries didn’t have to climb the hemp net.
“Lady Elin,” said Rhys. “She is the Veil’s closest confidante. For Coatney to send her, she wants something important.”
“But, what?” wondered Ben. “She didn’t reach out to O’ecca when they were both in Whitehall.”
“She was recovering from the battle with Avril and then looking for her body,” reminded Amelie. “Maybe she didn’t have time to address O’ecca then, or maybe someone realized Avril was hiding in Ooswam…”
They moved away from the window as the delegation was lifted out of sight. Everyone pressed their ears against the door, waiting for O’ecca to greet her guests. In moments, they heard the door open and a rustling sound as everyone entered.
“Take a seat, please,” offered O’ecca.
“Thank you,” murmured two low voices
“Lord Heinlin and Lady Elin, yes?” continued O’ecca. “Can I get you any refreshments?”
“No,” said a woman, her stern voice slicing through any pleasantries. “I think it’s best we move immediately to business.”
“Very well,” demurred O’ecca. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“What are the Emperor’s intentions with Alcott?” demanded Lady Elin.
There was a pause. Then, O’ecca answered, “He is seeking allies, trading lanes—”
“Ooswam has rarely ventured outside of its own borders,” interrupted Lady Elin. “Why now? Is your emperor looking to insert himself into the conflict between the Alliance and the Coalition?”
“No, he is not,” declared O’ecca, “though surely you know Saala Ishaam is from Ooswam? Are you familiar with his history and why he fled to Alcott? As you can imagine, the emperor has an interest in the man. When he was raised to king in Whitehall and was declared the leader of this Alliance, the Emperor thought it was an appropriate time to establish lines of communication. The disruption this looming war is causing, the other ills that have beset Alcott, they are also of interest. The Emperor wants to ensure nothing untoward spills across the South Sea.”
“We are aware of Saala Ishaam’s history with the emperor. He is no longer a subject of Ooswam, though, and the Sanctuary will brook no interference in his reign or in this conflict,” warned Lady Elin.
“Why?” asked O’ecca. “Are there already too many hands on the puppet strings?”
“That is offensive,” barked Lord Heinlin at the same time Lady Elin snapped, “The business of Alcott will remain the business of Alcott. The Sanctuary has matters in hand.”
“Much like you did the demon swarm north of Kirksbane?” inquired O’ecca smoothly. “I believe there were a few of your mages there, correct? But they’d already renounced their association with the Sanctuary from what I understood. The Sanctuary wasn’t actually doing anything at all to meet the largest demon swarm in written history, was it?”
“How did you—”
“Was the Veil too busy dealing with discord in the City, under her own nose?” continued O’ecca, talking over the other woman. “I heard something about a burning tower, missing artifacts, the Veil’s own blood falling in the conflict… I was intending to ask her myself in Whitehall, but we all know what happened there, don’t we? Was Whitehall another situation that the Sanctuary had in hand?”
Silence filled the room until Lord Heinlin asked, “What is she talking about, Lady Elin? A burning tower, the Veil’s own blood?”
“The Emperor is better informed about matters in Alcott than we expected,” admitted Lady Elin, ignoring Lord Heinlin.
“The Emperor is well aware of what has been happening here, and while normally he is content to allow Alcott’s leaders to manage Alcott – three thousand demons!” exclaimed O’ecca. “They had already overrun Northport, and the Sanctuary did nothing. Surely you can understand the Emperor’s concern. A swarm of demons that size is unprecedented, and if it was not stopped, it would have posed a clear threat to all of this continent. The South Sea is a strong barrier against demons, but the information we have about this demon-king is highly troubling. While I am here to treat with King Saala and gain commitment that there is no bad blood remaining between him and the Emperor, I am also here to find out if a risk remains from that demon swarm or other dark forces.”
“The swarm was stopped,” responded Lady Elin crisply. “There is no further threat.”
“Three-Three thousand?” stammered Lord Heinlin. “We’d heard rumors…”
“Lady Elin, Lord Heinlin, the Emperor has legitimate concerns about whether the leadership in Alcott is competent to handle threats that may impact us all. We all share a—”
“You’re here to assess our competence?” snapped Lady Elin.
“I’m here to determine if we should be concerned.”
“What do you want from us, then?” questioned the mage. “Some sort of assurance that the demons are gone?”
“I’d like to meet the Veil, since we missed each other in Whitehall, and I would like to meet King Saala. I want to discuss their plans. You ask us not to interfere, which I understand. For me to promise that, we have to be confident the leadership is capable of handling matters within their own realms. We have to be confident they’re capable of surviving the next few months.”
“Surviving!” cried Lady Elin. “If you think—"
“I know Lady Avril battled the Veil on the Citadel’s veranda,” cracked O’ecca.
“Who is Lady Avril?” demanded Lord Heinlin. “What battle is she talking about?”
“You don’t know the Veil and her predecessor fought in King Saala’s throne room just four weeks past?” asked O’ecca innocently. “I’m surprised Lady Elin didn’t think that worth mentioning to you. It seems the old Veil, Lady Avril, wasn’t as dead as the Sanctuary told us.”
They heard a crash, and Ben grinned, guessing it was Lord Heinlin’s chair falling to the floor as he
sprang to his feet. Ben nearly giggled, imagining the conversation Lord Heinlin would have with Lady Elin on the boat back to Fabrizo. It seemed the allies had much to discuss.
“That is Sanctuary business, girl,” snapped Lady Elin. “Do not think to threaten us with—”
“I am not threatening you,” barked O’ecca. “I am asking for a meeting with the Veil. I would be happy to listen to her opinions on these matters, and if she wants to advise me to stay quiet about it, I want to hear that from her. Until I do, I can only speculate on what happened and what it means for the security of her rule.”
There was a moment of silence, then Lady Elin allowed, “I will pass on your concerns to Lady Coatney and I will inform her you would like an audience. In good faith, we would appreciate these discussions waiting until the Veil can see you in person.”
“Thank you,” replied O’ecca. “Lord Heinlin, is King Saala available?”
“He’s not here,” mumbled the man. “I have been given authority to speak on his behalf.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s at our advance site, a place called Murdoch’s Waystation. We are staging troops for the coming war with the Coalition.” Perhaps recalling the accusations O’ecca had lobbed toward the Sanctuary, he scrambled to add, “All is in order there. As you know, King Saala is a military man, and he prefers to be hands on.”
“Of course,” replied O’ecca, her tone softening. “I do not plan to travel inland, so I would be pleased if you could join me for dinner one evening, Lord Heinlin. We can discuss improving relations between the Alliance and the Emperor.”
“Wonderful,” agreed the lord, his voice regaining the practiced formality of highborn negotiations. “There are many well-respected establishments onshore, if you care to come into town one evening. I will admit, the seafood here is even better than our finest restaurants in Whitehall. I would consider it a favor if you’d accompany me to one of the best.”
“That would be splendid,” responded O’ecca, her voice like lavender oil, effusing praise and respect.
Rhys chortled next to Ben, and he dug his elbow into the rogue’s side.
“When can I expect a response from the Veil?” O’ecca asked, the sweetness gone and only steel in its place.
Ben winced.
“She is very busy, but I will be in contact with you by tomorrow. In the meantime, I warn you,” scolded Lady Elin. “Do not meddle in our affairs.”
“I will wait until tomorrow,” snapped O’ecca. “No longer.”
Ben crouched low at the bow of a small craft. Behind him, his friends clustered, lying down so their outlines stayed below the gunwales. A pair of O’ecca’s men rowed, propelling them toward the dark dock that stuck out from a fishmonger’s warehouse.
In the district surrounding Fabrizo’s famous Fish Market, it was quiet in the middle of the night. Three bells before dawn, fishermen would arrive and begin hawking their catches to vendors who would fill their tables by the time the sun rose.
That gave Ben and his friends two bells to disembark and find their way through the empty stalls of the Fish Market to the Stranger’s Market. There, they hoped to meet with an agent of Ooswam who could tell them the news in the city.
“You know,” whispered Rhys as they scrambled out of the craft onto the fishmonger’s wharf, “she would tell you to leave her behind. She’s in no immediate danger from the Veil, and we’re putting ourselves at considerable risk if we try to free her.”
“Would you want us to leave you if you were captured by the Veil?” asked Ben, his voice barely audible above the sound of waves lapping against the pilings below them.
“I didn’t say you should leave me behind,” hissed Rhys. “I said you should leave behind Towaal. She’s just captured. It’s not like the Veil will execute her.” He paused for a moment. “Well, she probably won’t execute her. Not until they return to the Sanctuary, at least. That could be months from now.”
“You are incorrigible,” remarked Ben.
“It’s part of my charm,” claimed the rogue.
“Is it?”
Rhys winked and then scampered ahead to the locked door which would take them off the wharf and away from any eyes trying to spy who was departing the emissary’s vessel.
“I can open that if you need me to,” said Amelie.
A soft click, and Rhys pushed the door inward. He slid a pair of thin metal picks into a pouch and hung it on his belt. “No need.”
“We’re better off not using magic, if we don’t have to,” said Ben. “I doubt the Veil has wards in place covering the entire city, but we don’t want to accidentally stumble into one of her mages and give ourselves away.”
“I don’t think any mages will be in here,” remarked O’ecca, wrinkling her nose as they entered the fishmonger’s building.
It reeked of fish. Fresh fish and old fish. The floor was covered in a slimy residue of scales and guts. Boxes stacked in piles formed narrow alleys, and Ben didn’t need to look to know what was packed inside of them.
“I hope they don’t let this sit here long,” said O’ecca, pinching her nose shut.
“You don’t have to come with us,” mentioned Ben.
“If I’m not there, the agent will not speak to you,” reminded O’ecca. “Besides, I spend most of my days sitting quietly beside the emperor while he listens to lords and merchants complain. Coming to Alcott is like a vacation for me, and so far, this is the best part. You are always up to something interesting. Stalking through a city in the middle of the night, meeting a spy while avoiding the Veil’s guardians, it’s like we’re in a story!”
Ben grunted and led them through the towering boxes of fish. The found a door, and Rhys opened it a crack, pressing his eye against the gap to look outside.
“All clear,” he advised. The rogue led the way across the deserted Fish Market, followed by Prem, O’ecca, Amelie, and Ben.
Ben flexed his hands, struggling to keep them away from his longsword. Stealth was their friend, and any conflict could lead to their capture, not to mention a significant international incident for O’ecca and the emperor. She had offered to bring some of her men, the more swords the better, but Ben declined. More men would only mean more chance of discovery, and against their biggest concern, the Veil, the extra swords would be of no help. No, they were better off without her men, and they’d be better off with Ben not drawing attention by having his hand on his sword.
He straightened and tried to walk normally, letting his arms swing loosely by his side. Then, he thought they were too loose, so he slowed the motion and held his arms still. It forced his walk into a stilted waddle, and he tried to relax, swinging his arms again, before hissing in frustration and crossing them across his chest. Frowning, he struggled to recall how his arms moved when he walked.
“Ben, what are you doing?” hissed Amelie, looking over her shoulder at him.
He waved her forward and tried to act normal.
The only sounds that broke the silence of the city were the constant wash of water in the canals and their footsteps on the cobblestones. They avoided the streets that held the late night taverns, and it wasn’t until they were a bridge away from the Stranger’s Market that the familiar sounds of a populous city began to intrude.
It was still a bell before dawn, but already vendors were setting up stalls, animals were bleating, and they could hear the steady clatter of wheels over stone as carts began to arrive for the day’s commerce.
“Business should be finishing up at my contact’s establishment soon, and we’ll have the place to ourselves for most of the morning,” advised O’ecca.
“Finishing up,” asked Amelie. “What kind of establishment is this? A tavern?”
“Something like that,” confirmed O’ecca.
They stopped atop a steeply arched footbridge that would take them to the outskirts of the Stranger’s Market.
O’ecca pointed. “There. I think it’s the large tent on the west end. It was d
escribed as bright red, and I was told we can’t miss it.”
“Oh,” murmured Rhys appreciatively, “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Oh, no,” groaned Amelie.
“What?” asked Prem, glancing around the group, confused.
“There are only so many professions that allow a foreigner to pass unnoticed through the various classes of society without raising suspicion,” explained O’ecca. “Our contacts are never stopped by the city watch, they fund their own operation, no one asks them questions, and you would be surprised at some of the places they visit regularly. Honestly, I was a bit shocked when I found out how effective the emperor’s intelligence networks are. Truly, men are fools.”
Prem frowned, a look of suspicion growing on her face.
“Let’s go,” said Rhys eagerly. “I want to see this place while it’s still lively. By dawn, the girls will be going to bed.”
Prem set her fists on her hips and glared at the rogue’s back.
Catching the interchange, O’ecca whispered quietly to Amelie and Ben, “See what I mean? Fools.”
“Keep your eyes and your hands to yourself,” Amelie instructed Ben.
“I will. I will,” said Ben. “We’d better hurry, though, or we’ll lose Rhys.”
The rogue was already halfway down the bridge. The rest of the party walked quickly to catch up.
Even after his travels, the Stranger’s Market of Fabrizo was exotic and strange to Ben. Odd assortments of goods, foods he didn’t recognize, and unfamiliar animals were being unpacked and displayed. He didn’t see any of the magical devices he’d found on his first trip through the market, or the scary eyeballs, but he resolved that if they were able, he would come back and spend more time. He recalled a far-seeing device one vendor had been selling that would be very useful if they made it out of Fabrizo.
