The three shared small talk as they ate, how Azerick was faring, how the Night Ravens were growing once more with the elimination of their arch rivals, and some of the better court gossip that was going around. Word was that Duke Ulric was increasing the number of guards under his command but few seen on the streets with any real increase in numbers. The thieves’ guild had feared there was going to be a crackdown on their activities, but so far, nothing overt had occurred.
Azerick finally had to push his plate away, unable to consume another bite. He had not wanted to overindulge but he had been unable to help himself and he sensed that his obvious pleasure in the food pleased his host.
“So, now that we have gotten the preliminaries over with, what is it that has you so concerned that you would seek me out even though you are behind on your taxes?” Andrill asked, sipping another glass of winter wine.
Azerick blushed having completely forgotten his debt, but Andrill cut him off before he could respond.
“Do not lose focus, lad. That is another sort of business, not tonight’s business, and I do not like to mix different topics of business at the same meeting. Concern yourself, and me, with the topic that brought you here.”
“I am looking for a friend. She has been missing for several days now and I think she may have been taken by salvers,” Azerick said and gave a description of Andrea.
“I would have to agree with you, Azerick. Given her age and description it is very likely she ran afoul of those cretins,” the guild boss replied, very business-like now. “The problem is that they are a very secretive bunch and even with my resources, are hard to track down much less locate a single individual they may have taken.”
“I was not sure you could or would help me. I was afraid that the guild may work with the slavers, but I did not know who else to turn too.”
Andrill looked darkly at the assumption. “Hardly, though many people think otherwise. They steal from our city and feel they have no need to pay taxes or report to the guild. Not to mention, many of the guild come from the very streets these men use as their hunting grounds. The only reason we do not drive them from the city is that such open warfare would be very costly; far too expensive given the fact that the ones in most danger are simply street rats, no offense.”
“So you cannot help me?” Azerick asked, fear and anger creeping into his voice.
Andrill sighed as he stared into his wineglass as if he were seeking answers within the swirling red liquid. “As interesting as I find you, I am a businessman first and foremost. What do I stand to gain compared to the level of risk I would take by seeking out this information you desire?”
“I would owe you a favor. It is all I have to offer. I have no wealth, no power, nor any spectacular skill I can offer, so a promise of a returned favor is the best I can do,” Azerick told the Night Raven leader.
Braxis looked dubious but Andrill leaned forward, stared Azerick in the eye, and actually sniffed. “Do you smell that, Braxis?”
Azerick thought Andrill was making sport of him or commenting on his hygiene but the guild boss looked deadly serious.
“Did you know my mother was a Traveler, a seer at that? No, of course you did not, how could you? You carry the scent of destiny, fate, or god touch—whatever you want to call it. Sometimes, if it is strong enough, even I can sense it even though it is always stronger within the female bloodline. I have a sister that could probably tell me a great deal of what I might expect in return for accepting your proposal, but I believe I sense enough that such could be a wise investment. Very well, I will see what I can discover in exchange for a favor at some future point of my choosing.”
“Thank you, Andrill, this means a great deal to me,” Azerick replied with obvious relief.
“Do not thank me yet, young man. I have not collected my fee. The cost of such deals can sometimes make one feel like a fool when it comes time to pay. Remember that for the future.”
Azerick felt a chill run down his spine at the warning, but at this point he had nothing else to offer and nothing else was important to him. The only important things he ever had had already been taken, and he doubted the master thief wanted his books.
Azerick recognized his dismissal and made his way back to his lair, managing to avoid the Watch, out of habit, and numerous shady-looking characters skulking about the dark streets, out of necessity. He tried to go to sleep, which considering the amount he ate and the potent wine he drank, should have come easily, but his concern for Andrea and his anxiousness to hear back from Andrill kept him awake until the early hours of the morning.
He woke well after the sun had risen in the east and went in search of Bran. His first instinct was to go looking for him around one of the several market squares throughout the city but something told him that his friend was probably not staking out their usual haunts. His gut led him to the docks where he eventually found Bran in one of the taverns looking warily over the top of the clay mug gripped tightly in his hands.
At first glance, Azerick was afraid his friend had fallen into a depression and was trying to wash away his sorrows with cheap ale, but on a closer inspection, Azerick saw that he was watching and listening to the sailors and laborers around him.
Azerick pulled a rickety chair up and sat next to him. “You hear anything yet?”
“No, if the slavers are running they’re not talking about it openly. At least not where I can hear them,” Bran replied without taking his eyes off the patrons in the tavern.
Azerick saw that his friend was taking Andrea’s disappearance hard. He was sullen and withdrawn, a polar opposite of his usual genial self. “I have someone looking into it,” Azerick told Bran. “If anyone can find something, it’s them.”
Bran simply nodded as he continued to scan the crowd as if at any moment someone stand up and confess to the abduction.
“I am going to go and look around. I will let you know if—when—I hear something.”
“I’m going to find her, Az. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll find her.”
Azerick laid a hand on Bran’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before walking out of the tavern and into the salty seaside air. He paused just outside the tavern door, listening to the complaints of the seagulls and the shouting of dockworkers a block away. Azerick headed towards the docks and walked into Peg’s store, figuring that the old sailor was likely to see and hear a great deal of what goes on around the docks.
“Well, if it ain’t the young chimneysweep,” Peg called out from behind the counter as Azerick entered. “So did you manage to get the job done?”
“Oh yes, I got it cleaned out real good,” Azerick replied. “I wish I had been able to save enough to repay you for the value of that rope but more pressing debts soaked up most everything I made.”
“Well I hope you’re not sniffing around for anymore handouts. I liked your father but I gotta eat too and I ain’t gonna be able to do that if I gives away all my merchandise.”
“No, I’m just looking for information this time, Peg. It will not cost a thing. I am looking for a friend of mine, a girl, about my age, dark hair about this long, kind of pretty. She lives on Sailor’s Row
with her drunk of a father.”
“How long she been missing?”
“A few days now.”
Peg rubbed the grey stubble on his chin. “Good chance slavers got her if she was foolish enough to run about after dark.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Have you heard anything about any slavers lately?” Azerick asked.
“Too often to tell the truth. Fat lot of good it does to make it illegal if it ain’t enforced. All the King did was make it more profitable for those that don’t worry about getting arrested. A ship came in last week, not much cargo to unload, just a few bits of odds and ends from Sumara. It left port about four or five days ago without taking on much more cargo than it dropped off.”
“That does not sound like a very profitable trip,” Azerick replied.
“Nope, not unless they loaded up some cargo they didn’t want nobody to see.”
“Thanks, Peg,” Azerick said and walked back out onto the docks.
Peg had told him enough to strengthen his suspicion but nothing that could help him find out who took Andrea or where they had taken her. He had assumed that she would be taken south by ship although a few are hidden in wagons and taken to private estates outside the city. Either way, it would be nearly impossible to find her if she had been taken from the city already.
A sailor approached him and interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, boy, can you read?”
“Yes, I can read,” Azerick warily replied.
The sailor pulled out a scrip of parchment and handed it to him. “Good, Andrill said you were clever, but clever don’t necessarily mean literate. He says this is the best he can do so don’t come asking for more help, you won’t be able to afford it anyway.”
The guild thief, Azerick knew now he was no sailor, left without giving Azerick a chance to ask any questions or give any comment. He unfolded the parchment and saw that there was a set of instructions and a small, crude map drawn on it. It told him of a warehouse that Andrill’s men had been watching last night. Several men were always present but there was little activity around the place until well after dark. Men carried large sacks in on their shoulders and moved wooden crates out by cart to be loaded onto an unregistered ship, always after midnight.
Azerick returned to the tavern and was glad to see that Bran was still there although the time had done nothing to improve his mood. In fact, his lack of success made him look even surlier than he had before. Azerick hoped his news would lift his spirits some.
“I have some news,” Azerick said as he sat down.
Bran’s face lit up with hope and anticipation at his friend’s proclamation. “Did you find her? Do you at least know where she is?”
“Calm down and listen. First, promise me you are not going to go charging off the instant I tell you what I know.”
“Fine, just tell me you found something out!”
Azerick told Bran about the warehouse and showed him the map, describing the security and movements of the men around the building.
“So what are we waiting for?” Bran asked after Azerick told him what he knew. “Let’s go get her!”
“And do what, Bran? Charge in and take on a dozen or more slavers, just the two of us? And with what weapons? Do you have a ballista in your pocket you did not tell me about? We need a plan, preferably one that does not get us killed,” Azerick shouted back then lowered his voice when people began to stare.
“We need to rescue her before they take her out of the city,” Bran urged.
“She may already be out of the city. We do not know for certain she is there but if she is, us going in with swords waving, if we could even get a sword, is not going to free her.”
“Do you have a plan?” Bran demanded.
Azerick rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will have one tonight.”
Azerick told Bran to meet him tonight and to bring whatever weapons he could get his hands on although he hoped that whatever plan he came up with would avoid, or at least minimize, any physical confrontation with the slavers.
He returned to his home and took stock of the numerous potions that he had created during his numerous experimentations, formulating plans as he determined what he had to work with and how it could help him and Bran in their mission. Azerick then dismounted one of the many crossbow booby traps that guarded the halls of his sanctum that he had painstakingly refurbished. Fortunately, the steel bows had avoided significant corrosion and had lost only a small amount of their strength. He had spent the past two years carving new stocks and replacing ruined strings.
Azerick counted the beads flicked over on an abacus indicating how many times he had turned his hourglass and saw that it was nearing the time to meet Bran. He loaded several stoppered glass bottles into a padded rucksack, grabbed up his crossbow, and left out through the warehouse entrance of his lair.