Rogues Gallery

by Will Molinar

  Cassius looked interested and opened his hands. “By all means, pray continue Guild Master.”

  “We grant the thieves an amnesty, with the condition they work on construction of both the road and jail, pro bono.”

  Dillon looked confused, as if all he heard was amnesty for criminals he and his had worked hard to put behind bars. His eyes narrowed. “You wanna let ‘em go? Are you crazy? We busted our ass to catch them! They stole from the market, most of ‘em.”

  Cassius made a quieting noise with his lips and waved a hand at Dillon “Hold a moment, Lieutenant. I wish to hear more. What guarantee do we have they will work? I wouldn’t think thieves are the most trustworthy people in the world. They would try to escape.”

  “There are no guarantees. But I’m certain the police would be capable of keeping watch while they build and can best utilize this increase in manpower. Keep them chained and under guard, with furloughs and commuted sentences granted for good behavior. You caught them once, you can do so again.”

  Dillon shook his head. “You promised me money for the jail. This sounds like a lot more work for us, with no resolution.”

  Cassius had less patience dealing with people that didn’t see the big picture than Muldor had. “My boy, don’t you see, this is a possible resolution? Part of the money for building anything is the labor, and here you are getting it for free. You won’t pay the thieves. You will make them work for free. They get their freedom, you get your jail. Everyone is satisfied. Brilliant idea, Master Muldor. I think work on the road can commence as well very soon.”

  Dillon still didn’t like it. They argued for a time longer. The police lieutenant acted as if it were an affront to his way of life and debated that the police had worked so hard for nothing. Muldor thought him to be obstinate and short-sighted. A typical cop. It was a good point that it would take extra man power they didn’t have to watch the thieves on the labor lines, but nothing in life was free.

  The Guild Master left the two of them to work out the details. There was another meeting planned with Carl Tomlinson, unannounced but important. Things were bad at the market. Thievery had tripled in the last month, and Muldor wanted to reassure the Guild liaison that something was being done.

  As they neared the marketplace, his group was approached by two mounted men with hoods covering their faces. Muldor narrowed his eyes but then recognized their mannerisms. His guards tensed, and young Styles trotted forward as the men barred their way.

  “Hey! This is the Guild Master. Get out of our way.”

  “Easy, Styles,” Muldor said. “These are no assassins, though their dress leads me to believe they desire to deceive. These are the Senior Dock Masters, come no doubt to join in our mission to uphold The Guild’s high moral code. Gentlemen, how fare you this fine day?”

  Muldor felt their grimaces before Becket and Lawson pulled their hoods back. He was surprised to see Dock Master Crocker with them. The old man kept his hood down, but his slouch was unmistakable.

  “You’re a hard man to get a hold of, Guild Master,” Becket said, an edge to his voice sounded both guarded and respectful. “It’s time we all spoke.”

  Muldor raised a brow. “Is it? Do tell.”

  “We have some bad news about Lurenz,” Lawson said.

  “Yes? Is this about the prisoner you have tied up at the Southern Docks? I must say that a storage shed makes for a poor prison, gentlemen. I would have expected you to think of something more suitable. I know the jail is fit to bursting, but I would have at least gone to Lieutenant Dillon and asked.”

  “Hey!” Lawson said. “How did you know that?”

  “That’s enough, Lawson,” Becket said and looked at Muldor. “No more games, Muldor. We need to talk. This is important. We have earned your respect, now we demand your attention.”

  “Fine. You have it.”

  They sat there, as if they had expected him to say more, but Muldor sat still and waited. At last, Becket sighed and made a motioning signal with his hand. “Perhaps to your office, Master Muldor. Please.”

  Muldor gave a slight nod. “As you will.”

  They went back to his original office by the Western Docks. He had tried staying at the city office that The Guild sometimes used for day to day activities. He knew Crocker went there from time to time, but it never felt right. He motioned for them to sit and had to pull up a few more chairs. Lawson refused his, standing far away from the desk by a bookshelf.

  “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  Muldor hid a smile. “As you wish. So, gentlemen,” Muldor said as they took their places. “What is it you wish to discuss? Forgive me for not calling a meeting sooner. I suppose it is past time we had one.”

  The sunlight slanted into his northern side window, the one facing the main street that went west towards the docks. The mighty warehouses, where Becket and Crocker stored their client’s good were not far off. The light was crocked because of the seasonal change in the position of the sun. Whenever it crept over the edge, it always signaled to Muldor the seasons were changing.

  Lawson glanced around the room, staring at everything like a bloodhound intent on a hunt. He poked into the book shelf and ran his hand along the edge. His fingers came away dusty.

  “Nice digs. You’re really moving up in the world, Muldor. I can see why you get paid the heavy coin.”

  He chuckled, but no one else was laughing. Muldor eyed Becket, who seemed to be the leader in this progressiveness. “I suppose you’ll be getting to the thrust of your visit at some point.”

  “Indeed we will,” Becket said and sounded more formal. “Guild Master Muldor, it has come to our attention through the interrogation of a prisoner, that the pirate Lurenz has a blood feud against us. Have you had contact with your agent among his crew?”

  “No. I am working under the assumption that he is dead. I must also assume his demise came about because his deception was discovered, and this must have in turn incensed Lurenz further against us.”

  Lawson cursed. “Yeah, I bet that pissed him off.”

  Crocker stepped forward. “And what do you intend to do about it, Guild Master? Hmm? It is your responsibility to protect the merchant’s interests, and you have been doing a poor job of it of late. This is unacceptable.”

  Muldor stared at him, saying nothing. Becket heaved a sigh and rubbed his clean shaven face. He looked older than his forty-two. Muldor had heard of the recent experience he’d had at his neighborhood. Various groups of men had gone around, breaking into several homes, including the Dock Master’s, and Muldor knew he was shaken by the experience.

  “Hold on, Crocker,” Becket said. “There’s no need to toss around accusations. This affects all of us. Let’s take a minute here and consider our options and be constructive, shall we?”

  Crocker made a face but stayed silent. Muldor gave Becket a slight nod.

  “Lurenz is threatening the entire continent with his actions,” Becket said. “This can’t be denied. That being said, this by definition involves the king, so our first choice should be to apply for royal aid. They must respond.”

  “Yet,” Muldor said because he had considered this course of action before and made inquiries, “by all accounts only merchant vessels affiliated with our Guild have been attacked. I have heard of no other ships being molested.”

  “So what?” Lawson said. “We don’t count as the king’s subjects? They don’t care about us? That’s bullshit. The king oughta send out his fleet to track down Lurenz and obliterate the bastard.”

  Crocker interrupted with a harsh laugh. “Ah, the folly of youth. How you leave no doubt to your ignorance with speaking, Master Lawson. Oh, yes, the king will come to your rescue, young man. Just like that! He does it all the time, spending his gold, endangering his men and ships on a matter that means nothing to him.”

  Lawson stared daggers at him while Crocker continued. “Listen to me, all of you, we are wasting our time postulating what the king may or not do. It is time for the Gui
ld to make a stand on its own, one way or another.”

  There was a ripple of general agreement among them. Muldor regarded the wizened old man with mild surprise, given their last private discussion about how no aggressive action should be taken by The Guild. Such things led to trouble, per example Castellan’s attempted city coup.

  “There may come a time when we illicit assistance from the king,” Muldor said. “But I do not believe we have reached that point as of yet, nor should we ever be forced to rely on outside aide. We are self-sufficient for the most, and this city prides itself on being an entity in and of itself.” He regarded them all in turn, and they were rapt with attention. “No, I feel Master Crocker is correct, it is up to us to help ourselves.”

  “What do you suggest?” Becket said.

  Muldor eyed each of them in turn. “We have the necessary resources here in our own city to deal with these raiders once and for all. Sea Haven’s navy is now formidable. The Guild has access to a force that will tip the scales in our favor from now on.”

  Lawson scrunched his face up. “Huh? Since when? Maybe we ain’t as privy to information down at the Southern Docks as you all, but what did I miss?”

  “Yes,” Becket said. “I thought the process was months away at the most generous estimations.”

  “It’s done,” Muldor said. “It’s taken the better part of this past year, but the work we have put forth has been worth it, for we now have a full seven ships to use against our enemy and bring the pirate Lurenz to justice, either in a watery grave in the high seas or here to the hangman’s noose. Our fleet is ready for deployment and can be underway within the week.”

  Silence followed. Muldor watched each of them for reactions. He got deeper confusion from Lawson, typical; guarded interest from Becket, good news; and veiled skepticism from Crocker, also typical and expected. Becket was the first to speak, befitting his position as the de facto superior among them.

  “I didn’t think that was possible. How did you do it?”

  “Come, gentlemen,” Muldor said and rose. “I will show you.”

  Chapter Six

  By the time they reached the shipping yards, the sun had set. Lucky for the string of high ranking Guild representatives walking along the water, three Dock Masters and the Guild Master himself among them, there was sufficient infrastructure built into the surrounding area.

  There were several large logs pushed length-wise into the ground all along the space surrounding the inlet. From these gigantic poles, they strung a line of hanging lanterns, some twenty feet off the ground or higher in places, along with several sconces with removable torches.

  It was all quite elegant, which surprised Dock Master Becket. He didn’t think ship builders had such an artistic sensibility. Of course, they did build things much like a sculptor did when creating a work of art. But then again, the flowing lights and nature of their beauty were either a happy accident or lost on most people.

  Jerome would not have approved of their lack of awareness. When he thought of the man, he felt a tinge of both regret and guilt. He worried the harrowing experience of the other night had soured him towards Becket.

  Becket didn’t blame him if Jerome was scared away. The experience had shaken up all four of them. Becket’s staff was still nervous every time they heard a noise from outside. They had waited for hours before some security men had come in told them all was clear.

  Theirs wasn’t the only household affected. Several other compounds had been struck by drunken thieves, and it had taken most of the night to roust them out of the neighborhood. Because of the nature of their ownership, the city police were not called. In fact, because Becket and all the others did not own their homes and only leased them from a foreign investor, only the private security was allowed to function in a professional capacity.

  Becket had never given the strange bylaw a second thought before the other night, but now it twisted his gut. They needed better protection. And so did his home. The place was ransacked, with a lot of missing items and broken artwork scattered around. His hidden cache of gold, placed in a vault in his cellar, was unharmed, thank the gods, but he had lost a great deal of other things.

  The boisterous activities around him were almost overwhelming as Muldor led them on a tour of the shipping yards. The northern end of the Western Docks was not far from the western most edge of the yards, where the inlet swept in to the east from the sea.

  They strolled up the long edge of the water, where wooden fences kept people back from the depths wherever there wasn’t a dock. Soon their group stood on a wooden bridge that spanned the length of the inlet, perhaps a hundred paces long. Becket wasn’t sure how they even got there; one moment they were walking, the next they had reached the destination Muldor had planned for them to have a view of the work being done. The vista to the east took his breath away.

  There were seven total battle ships arrayed for war. Becket couldn’t finish counting the number of canon lined up on each bow, and that was only what could’ve been seen from this side. Muldor’s accomplishment was staggering considering the amount of time spent. The ships hovered there, exerting their power, bobbing up and down like gigantic fishing lures, huge and threatening.

  Becket could see three full galleons, large ships with four decks on one, three each on the other two. He assumed the four deck monster was the flagship. There were also two frigates, medium sized vessels, and two schooners, which might’ve been supply ships. Men and women dashed about finishing up last minute work and running supplies.

  The sound of hammers striking nails and people shouting reached them from their perch on the bridge overlooking the inlet’s inner sway. Becket put his hands on the rail and shook his head. He tried to count the number of guns on the largest ship.

  “That is our flagship,” Muldor said beside him as if reading his mind. “The Vigilant. It has eighty four guns and a crew of four hundred. It shall lead the armada and crush Lurenz into dust.”

  Lawson whistled. “Unbelievable. You’ve done it, Muldor. I was wrong about you. Great job.”

  The young man eyed Muldor with obvious awe and respect. It was well earned, in Becket’s opinion. Muldor ignored the complement and continued.

  “In total, some seventeen hundred men have volunteered to fill this fleet with their courage and resolve. They set sail within the week.”

  “A week? They’ll be ready by then, huh?”

  “Perhaps ten days. The details are yet to be finalized with the individual captains. But understand I am looking for a Guild representative to sail with them. This is important.”

  The last statement seemed to hang in the air for a moment as they all glanced back to the scene.

  ‘We all want to say something,’ Becket thought. ‘But we’re too stunned to make the first move.’

  Crocker broke the stalemate. “I admit this is impressive, Guild Master. But I am disturbed we did not hear more about this before now. Why the secrecy? Hmm?” He crossed his arms and stared at Muldor, and Becket could almost hear his foot tapping under the edge of his robe.

  Becket hid his frown but wondered why the old man had to act this way. But then he checked himself and wondered what it was that he and Lawson had done before in his office. The idea of having Muldor followed.

  Becket cleared his throat. “We’ve all been busy. It’s easy to get caught up in one’s own affairs and not see what’s going on outside of that tract.” He looked at Muldor while Crocker harrumphed and frowned. “I think Muldor has done a fantastic job here. I was wrong about your motivations as well, Guild Master. And I apologize. I’d like to see more of this fleet, our fleet if you’ll be so inclined.”

  Never in ten years of knowing him had Becket ever seen the taciturn man-smile, but he thought he saw the glimmer of one working on Muldor’s lips. But then the moment was gone, and he was all business.

  “Come, my Dock Masters. I will show you the full scope of our accomplishment.”

  Bold words, but from what
Becket had seen thus far, it was easy to believe almost anything Muldor claimed. It was beyond Becket’s expectations that a simple merchants’ guild could build and control something like this.

  They walked down the bridge and along a dirt path, hugging the edge of the water line, and soon they came to a smaller version of their dock system. Three piers lay on the opposite shore, with three on their side. One ship was anchored on each pier, with the exception of The Vigilant. That monster moored in the center of the water, with small row boats ferrying supplies back and forth from its bulk.

  “This is Spirit Breaking,” Muldor said as they entered the first of the other galleons. The ship was more artistic, built by someone with a painter’s heart. They used a cherry stain on the outside hull, and the bow was a lovely wooden sculpture of an angelic woman, complete with wings and a serene yet grim visage. Like the fleet itself, she was vengeance personified. There were also different enjoinments connecting each section of the ship. They used a more flowery design, black metal that had shape instead of only function.

  “Sixty-five guns, a crew of three hundred and eighty, comparable to the final member of the galleon class, The Righteous, and where our Guild representative will sail, per my instructions.”

  Becket and his colleagues said nothing, though he felt the tension rise a bit. He wouldn’t last ten days aboard one of these vessels. These sailors would’ve eaten him alive and boiled his bones for their stew. The thought of staying in a tiny cabin, locked away, surrounded by dirty raucous men was abhorrent to him.

  They were beautiful ships, however. He could appreciate the workmanship and craft that went into building them.

  The clean, new smell of wood, and even with the hint of oil and unwashed bodies of the workers, was pleasant enough. It reminded him of when he had expanded his home with an extra outside shack for storage.

  The Dock Master held his breath as he thought of the potential disaster in the wealthy quarter, one more problem to deal with; he and some others that lived there had complained to the security forces paid to protect their homes but they were in fact becoming overwhelmed. Thieves were out of control, in the city itself and in his neighborhood, police and security forces alike up to their necks in work.