Rogues Gallery (21 page)

He heard bits and pieces of the conversation.

“… did he now?”

“No, I don’t think….”

“… Lord Cassius, is it?”

A few minutes later, the cops nodded and grabbed Zandor, but they did not put him in irons. Yet.

“We’ll take it from here.”

Maybe he would let them arrest him and toss him in jail. It was easy enough to escape, and he could have learned something about what was going on there. The more he learned about the city, the better. They went a few blocks away from the wealthy quarter, then the men stopped, and Zandor tensed, ready for anything.

They glanced at each other and then walked away.

* * * * *

Journal 1301

Everyone was impressed with our work, and I take no shame in having pride at my personal accomplishment in building our fleet, our instrument of rectitude. It began as a work of necessity but became a labor of passion and commitment I have seldom encountered. It is an extension of my love and servitude to The Guild and all its components.

I admit this building of ships, vessels capable of changing the very course of history, gives me a sense of power. Our scope is not beyond any level Castellan could have ever dreamed. The men shall board our ships. These many hundreds and thousands, will do as I command and hunt our enemy into extinction.

Lurenz deserves nothing less than death. Our reprisal to his butchery, theft, and destruction cannot be unexpected. We did nothing to inspire his wrath. Our merchant vessels wish only to do their business and be unmolested while moving about the seas. How is this some kind of affront to the affairs of a pirate? I understand this is in their nature, but the level of loss is beyond belief. Lurenz has made this a personal vendetta, and I can do nothing less but the same.

Some would argue the stolen goods are acceptable losses, part of doing business. Trading is not for the weak, as my father was fond of saying, and often times we are forced to play things under the table so to speak. We deal with merchants of less than savory reputation, but it is always done within the confines of our own organization. We have rules. Larceny may thrive in our business, but this is beyond the normal graft known from the onset of our induction.

If we possess means to combat these seaward knaves, is it not our responsibility to do battle, in order to protect the interests of the individual Guild members, who in turn look to us for leadership? I say it is. It is the easiest decision I have made in my short time as Guild Master. Their products are why we do business, and shipping from shore to shore is how we conduct this business. It shall not be interrupted by this level of robbery. I will not allow it.

The fact that the total cost of the fleet’s build exceeds the current cost of the lost goods, is not lost on me, but I stress the concept of current losses. How must is too much before we must do something? I say the time is now! Some may very well raise their brows at the cost and tighten their purses, but thus far the majority is on boards with my initiative. In truth, this has been a combined effort with the city, and they have given over the gold as well as I can expect. This is one of the few orders of business with which we all agree. The Pirate Lurenz must be stopped.

My closest colleagues seem impressed, even the curmudgeon Melvin Crocker. I have seldom seen the old man’s eyes gleam as they did when I unveiled the flagship. I share their giddy excitement for what we can accomplish with the fleet. This begins a new age of prosperity for The Guild and all its members, from the richest merchant to the lowest worker.

It is all done for them! This is what many of my colleagues fail to see. They do not understand. They do not see what the common dock worker suffers though day to day even though they witness their suffering. It is shocking to me they cannot comprehend we can give them all a better life. Better working conditions, higher wages, more shifts so they can feed their families. None of that will survive if The Guild falls. A fool’s errand on my part? Perhaps. But I soldier on regardless, all in the hope that I am making the world a better place for the people under my care.

Master Becket continues to be evasive when asked what was such an issue in weeks past. What was once a top priority has now disappeared into coyness. I know there is something bothering him, and for whatever reason he no longer has the desire to approach me with this information. I wish for all my colleagues to come to me when in need, but they are grown men and must also deal with their own problems as much as they can, in deference to my authority.

The amnesty for theft in Sea Haven has begun in full effect. No theft within the last six months can be prosecuted by any members of the law. The city council voted and this was the results, in part to my recommendation and also in part to the need of able bodied workers on the Eastern Road. Construction has begun again, and though prisoner escape continues to vex the police, there is no alternative. Not all convicted men agreed to the deal. They refuse to lower themselves to such menial labor, but I am happy to say the majority has taken to the idea of this work release system.

They work on the road during the day and sleep in a large section of space near the shipping yards at night. They remain under guard and shackled while they sleep, but there is a trust developing. Each man knows what is expected and understands this is best for all. The police are none too happy. They believe this is an affront to work already completed by capturing these thieves and more work in supervising their labor on the road. Ah well. One cannot lease all involved. My directive is being followed as well as it can.

The Thieves Guild is missed. Even I did not realize the full extent of its presence in our city. Perhaps abhorrent to other “civilized” nations on this continent, in a locale where crime is rampant and raging, having an internal organization that polices its own helps keep it under control. No “common” thief would dare steal from the market or docks when the Thieves Guild was in operation. The police knew who was a member and who was not. In a strange situation of irony, police and member thief worked together to keeps the sides in perfect clarity.

Theft, lies, and killing are as inevitable as the dawn in the city of my birth. I do what I can to protect those that need it and help those in need, but there is only so much I can do. I am only a man.

Chapter Eight

The marketplace swarmed with people. Lines of carts stacked in haphazard rows, boxes of goods, wooden crates with all manner of items. A battlefield might have been less chaotic, and its generals less fierce than the merchants in the few block radius of Sea Haven’s famed marketplace.

They acted as if it was a battleground, each pushing and shoving to get their wares in the best place possible. Some spots were better than others, and the veteran sellers, regardless of their position relative to seniority, fought to increase their coverage in the market.

Samuel Becket noticed a lot more security men than normal. It was common practice on most days, even more now that theft was higher. Added protection was a good idea. After the break-in at his home, he had thought about adding some personal guards for himself. Muldor had them, and Muldor was always right….

Thieves were everywhere. In the corner by Miller’s apple cart, that darkened corner by Henri’s grain stockpile, cutthroats waited for their chance to grab and run. Or perhaps they would cause a disturbance with the old standard distract and hit. It almost always worked. Assassins did the same thing.

The thieves’ guild were lost souls. Most of the men and women were skilled and good at what they did and were not bad people. They were locked in to their way of life, a secure, familiar lifestyle that was all they knew. ‘Just like we all are,’ he thought. Becket had liked most of the thieves he met, and when he helped them free Muldor months ago, it had been an exciting time. Frightening, but exciting.

The armed guards were tense and ready. Most people at the market had taken to carrying their own weapons, Becket included. He made a mental note to keep a tight grip on his money bag. He carried it under his cloak, deep underneath, tight up against his waist, but even then he couldn’t help but reach to feel that reassuring hard poke of the coins that jingled.

He was wary of any unsavory looking people. The common street thieves all looked the same; the homeless, the despondent, the mad. They were living better than ever thanks to the amnesty. It had never been this way before during Becket’s time living in Sea Haven.

“Always be wary of innocent collisions,” people always said. It was a common set up. They worked in teams; he had seen it happen on a couple occasions. One would bump you in the back while the other stole your wallet. The best thieves did it on their own, but often times it was a two person team.

A pair of young boys ran through the crowd, always a bad sign because of what the orphanage often did. They sent many of their charges out to scrounge up money for them. The headmistress was known to be corrupt, but no one seemed to care or do anything about it. He zeroed in on their tiny forms, watching them move so fast very few people even seemed to notice.

The two street urchins came his way. He tried to step aside but collided with a cart of vegetables. The merchant yelled.

“Hey! What’s this, now? You watch where you’re going.”

Becket stood up straight and faced the man eyeing him. He straightened his robes, letting his gold plated Guild Seal, the highest ranking symbol possible in their organization; hang out into the open.

“Is there a problem?” Becket said while the man’s eyes went wider.

“Oh, no problem. Sorry, Master, uh….”

“Becket.”

“Of course. Master Becket. How fare you this morning?”

“I fare well. Thank you. How is business?”

“Can’t complain. Hell, who would listen, right? Ha, ha. Mmm, what brings you to the market today?”

“I’m looking for Carl Tomlinson. Have you seen him?”

The man scrunched and shook his head. “Can’t say as I have. Should be at his stall near the center grouping. That’s where—”

“Yes, I know where he should be, but he’s absent.”

“I see. Hey! You there! Stop!”

Becket turned his head and saw the two youths grabbing apples and running off with them. The merchant’s lone security was looking somewhere else at the moment.

“Johnson! Damn it, man! After them!”

The man dashed off after the boys, and Becket wished him luck. He turned back to the frustrated merchant, and the man shook his head.

“Pardon me, Master Becket, but this situation is intolerable. This is the second time today, and it gets worse all the time. Something must be done. The police are no good. I hear they may be striking soon.”

Becket raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yes?”

“There’s talk. I know they are nowhere to be found these last several days at market, that’s for certain.”

Becket filed away the information, along with a dozen other things that required his attention, to a far corner of his mind. He told the merchant he would see what could be done and left to continue his search for Tomlinson. He knew his words carried little weight to the frustrated man .

The Guild needed to do an audit on the market. It wasn’t something he looked forward to and not something they did often, but the responsibility had always been with the most senior Dock Master. It was not a joyful experience for either side, but according to his numbers, and the accounting from their new colleague Joseph Miller, things were array.

Miller was an odd man, very strange with people, but a wizard with numbers. He could add and subtract and work their books better than anyone Becket had seen. It was good to have someone like that in their ranks.

Tomlinson was on the opposite side of the market from where his stall was located. He spoke with a fur trader, one of the only independent merchants The Guild allowed to do business at the market. They paid a one-time fee that let them sell there for up to one year.

Many within the Guild wanted to do away with any open slots and make everyone apply for membership in order to sell anywhere in Sea Haven, but so far no action had been taken. Becket thought it fine to let them pay and sell for a year. Then they could have decided for themselves if they wanted to join. No need to force them into anything. He wondered what Muldor thought about it.

Tomlinson glanced his way but said nothing as Becket neared. His face remained impassive. He was a lot like Muldor, so still and dull. This city does that to a person. Still, Carl must have been a handsome man in his youth. He had a good build, but years of prosperity had turned his solidness to fat. And his beard was turning gray, with small tufts of the former black struggling to maintain a presence.

Becket smiled. “Master Tomlinson. Hello there. I expected to find you at your stall. You are such a permanent fixture in that part of the marketplace I thought the world was ending when I didn’t find you.”

Tomlinson grunted. “Something I can help you with, Master Becket?”

“Yes. We need to go over last week’s numbers. I have found some discrepancies.”

Tomlinson and the fur trader exchanged glances. Becket took a step back and looked around, so they could finish their conversation. He didn’t catch everything that was said in that short exchange. It was very noisy at the market, but he thought he heard something about them “meeting later.”

They walked together.

“I’d prefer to do this back at my office if you don’t mind,” Becket said. “I know you are a busy man, and this is a fine day.” He indicated the sunny sky and unseasonable warmth with an open hand. “Nice day for a walk I think.”

Tomlinson said nothing. They went back to Becket’s office and sat. Becket offered him some wine, but Tomlinson waved it off.

“I would like to get back to my business as soon as possible, Master Becket.”

Becket smiled and put the bottle to the side. “Of course.” He handed over a sheet of papers, the same ones he got from Tomlinson’s people the week before when every merchant was required to submit their sales for that time period. It was part of Becket’s job to make sure they matched with what came into the Western Docks from the sellers that offloaded their wares. Some goods were stored in the massive warehouses, but all that was kept accountable.

“I’ve thought of getting a team together to do a full audit,” Becket said. “I could request each individual merchant to give account for their tally and sales, each and every requisition, but I would prefer not to. Either way, these numbers don’t match.”

Tomlinson looked over the papers, his face expressionless. “This can be accounted for by the increased theft the last few weeks.” He handed it back.

“I’ve factored that in. That’s one thing the merchants are sure to report to me with unerring accuracy. Believe me. No, this is different. To me, it feels like underreporting of sales. I don’t want to launch a full investigation, but I would like to see a profit report from the last month. That should clear out some confusion.”

Now at last Tomlinson showed a hint of emotion, some annoyance. He crossed his arms and sat back. “Those have already been submitted to the appropriate dock masters. Last week in fact.”

“I know, but I want an updated list, so I can compare the two. From now on, they all come through me first. I can hand them over to each Dock Master. Is that understood?”

Tomlinson nodded his assent but kept his frown. “Fine. I’ll pass it along to the other merchants to send them again.”

“Thank you. Tell them I want it in two days. You will deliver them here to my office.”

Tomlinson did not argue, but considering the way he was acting, Becket knew his earlier suspicions were correct. Something was going on at the market without the Dock Master’s knowledge. He sent the market liaison on his way and met up with Lawson outside The Prancing Pony at dusk.

Becket had not been there in some time and needed to talk to someone he trusted, or at least halfway trusted.

“Hey Becket,” Lawson said. “Guess what? We sail in three days.”

Becket raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah, man. I’m to be the Guild representative on board
Spirit Breaking
when the flee sails. Muldor chose me.”

Becket stared. “Did he? And who will look after your piers when you’re gone?”

Lawson squirmed a little. “Don’t worry about it. I got it covered. Miller is doing great with his end, and I got Pier Supervisor Datson helping out. It’ll be fine.”

“Miller is good, but he’s Muldor’s man, isn’t he? I mean, he promoted him. And you’ll be gone for how long?”

Lawson looked nervous but shook his head. “Oh, c’mon, man. Don’t be so paranoid. I thought we decided Muldor was okay. He’s looking out for everyone’s best interest, right? Look what he’s done with the fleet. All for the Guild. And we’re gonna be a part of it.”

Becket regarded him and wondered how to approach this dawning mania in the young man. Better to be blunt. “Gunnar, how do you know this isn’t what Muldor planned all along?”

Lawson narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s dangerous out there. All those pirates… not much different from a regular sailor in my experience. This is his crew that
he
put together. Maybe he is sending you to your death. It would be so easy to have someone on board put a knife in your belly or slit your throat when you’re sleeping.”

Lawson stood straight. “No way, man. That’s crazy! That’s not possible. It can’t be.”

Becket waved him off. “I’m not saying this is a fact. I want to believe he’s sincere in his intentions, but you know how he is. You know it’s possible. Muldor’s patient, exacting. Look what he did with the fleet. It would be simpler to let you go off and somehow you don’t come back because he wouldn’t have to explain it to anyone.”

Lawson started nodding. “Sure, sure. He has waited this long. It would be easy to make it look like an accident way out there. Then Miller takes over the Southern Docks right quick. To hell with this. I’m not going anywhere now.”

Becket touched his arm. “Hold on. I am not saying you shouldn’t go. I only want you to be aware of what could happen. Be ready. No, we need someone on board, and you are it. Bring some guards. At least two, three is better. Make sure they are well armed and armored. You too. Bring an extra dagger or a short sword and get some chainmail to wear underneath your robes.”

“Oh, great! I have to put my life on the line and blow coin on it in the process. Fantastic, Becket. What other good news do you have for me? You gonna tell me goblins are coming to get me?”

“Goblins don’t exist.”

“Says you! Ogres do.”

“Listen. There is something else. In fact, there are two things.” Becket closed his mouth and frowned. He wanted to talk to someone about what he had seen at Sea Haven Asylum, but now wasn’t the right time. “Okay, the most important thing first. The merchants at market are dealing under the table. I think I have proof but want confirmation.”

“What? Are you serious? I thought we handled that well enough last time?”

“I don’t blame them. They are losing money hand over foot, what with all the theft in town and the losses mounting up seaside. This is a real problem.”

He explained what he had found with the profit reports received by Tomlinson. The exported goods from the docks didn’t match the amount received and sold at the market.

“Yeah, it doesn’t fit right,” Lawson said. “Damn, I noticed something weird the other week, but I was so busy in the shipping yards getting to know the ship… man, I’m sorry. I shoulda said something earlier.”