by Jaxon Reed
Dudge found his party in the Tin Hammer, one of the few inns catering to both dwarves and humans and a favorite of merchants trading with shipmasters.
Fret explained to Dudge that they retained several casks, since they had a surplus, and had bartered with Pywot, the inn’s owner, by offering him a few.
Pywot happily agreed, especially after discovering Fret was the son of Barley, whose brewing reputation was widely appreciated even in this far corner of the realm. The innkeeper had fed the newcomers supper by the time Dudge found them. Then Pywot promptly made his money back by selling mugs of his new beer to the other guests.
Pywot brought Dudge a plate of mutton and cabbage and a mug of beer. Dudge thanked him and wolfed down the food, stifling his hunger.
He sat on the dwarven side of the common room, with smaller tables and chairs. The other side featured furniture sized for humans, but at the moment only half a dozen or so men sat around a couple tables, talking softly.
Fret came over holding his own mug of beer. He sat down at Dudge’s table and said, “It took some hagglin’ wi’ th’ warehouse owner. We finally got th’ beer stored away, though. I hope Bartimo gets here soon. This town be turrible expensive.”
Dudge smiled and pointed his fork at the ledgers on the table. He said, “I may be able t’ trim some o’ th’ expense soon. Iffen me suspicions be correct, these will show th’ portreeve ha’ been stealin’ from th’ Crown fer years.”
Fret looked down at the ledgers and stroked his beard. He said, “Iffen he be that rotten, likely he has two sets o’ books. One fer surprise inspections, one wi’ th’ real amounts.”
Dudge’s smile faltered. He said, “I be glad yer honest, Fret, son o’ Barley. Ye’ve got a devious mind. But nay, by th’ looks on everybody’s faces when I took ’em, these be th’ only ones.”
He swallowed a bite of mutton, then set his fork down and picked up the most recent ledger, marked “3158.” He thumbed it open it to the last entry.
“’Ere we go. Five gold from th’ merchant group comin’ through th’ gate las’ week. I bet th’ Crown’s profits fer a year tha’ he reported t’ Ore Stad only one gold. He be pocketin’ th’ other four.”
Fret drained the last of his mug and said, “Aye, this be a filthy town. A’ leas’ th’ innkeeper seems honest.”
“What clan be Pywot from?”
“Hm? Clan Marble he said. Why?”
“Jus’ askin’. I be nay in a trustin’ mood towards Clan Slag at th’ moment.”
-+-
Pywot had a heavy lockbox on the ground floor. Dudge questioned him about it at some length. Had anything ever been stolen out of it? Had anyone ever made a complaint about items gone missing from it?
After several minutes of this line of questioning, Pywot said, in a somewhat exasperated tone of voice that managed to remain respectful to the prince yet still convey annoyance, “Yer Highness, iffen an innkeeper be stealin’ from his guests, he dinna live very long.”
Satisfied with that answer, Dudge turned the ledgers over to Pywot, who promptly locked them up then showed Dudge to his room.
Like the Great Hall, the Tin Hammer was divided into two areas. Above ground was sized for humans, and a network of tunnels led to rooms below ground for dwarves.
Pywot apologized profusely at his lack of space. It bothered the innkeeper that his first royal guest would be sharing a room with Fret.
“We ha’ plenty space in th’ yuman quarters, yer Highness. Iffen ye don’ mind large beds an’ such, I kin put ye upstairs.”
Dudge waved aside the innkeeper’s concerns and said, “Dinna worry ’bout it. I been wi’ these lads on the’ road fer days now.”
He plopped down in the bed on his side of the room and didn’t wake up when Fret came in soon after.
The following morning at breakfast a young dwarf ran into the common room bringing news of not one but two ships pulling up to the quays.
“An’ one o’ them,” the excited lad said in a loud voice that carried through the room, “be a naval ship! Wi’ a battering ram an’ archery windows an’ boardin’ ladders an’ grapplin’ hooks!”
The news delivered, the boy ran out the door to find someone else to share with.
Fret and Dudge exchanged a glance. Dudge said, “Mayhap th’ twins be onboard th’ merchant vessel.”
They set out from the door of the Tin Hammer soon after, with all the wagon drivers accompanying them. Most had not ventured far from the inn the evening before, and everyone wanted to see the naval vessel. Aside from a couple of old timers, none of them had been to Port Osmo before, nor seen a human ship. Nor a human. Or, for that matter, a ship.
The score of dwarves wandered down the streets toward the docks, taking in the sights of the green copper-tiled buildings and maroon brick-paved streets. Most everything was built larger now, in consideration of human visitors.
Quite a few sailors roamed the streets, many of them evidently fresh off the newly arrived ships. They walked around equally amazed at the sights. They stared this way and that with their white linen tunics and breeches and weather-beaten faces, often stopping to gawk openly at the dwarves passing by.
“A bit crude, some o’ these fellas,” Fret observed. “Not too many wearin’ shoes.”
“Common lots,” Dudge said. “Minimal magic. I wager someone tol’ ’em t’ behave, else they’ll lose their hides t’ th’ whip.”
Fret nodded. “Makes sense. Could break a trade deal, iffen they caused trouble.”
Dudge nodded toward some of the port guards standing in clusters and watching everybody. The number of guards here near the quays was considerably higher than in Osmo’s dwarven quarters near the back of the city. They stood glaring at the sailors and holding cudgels in a threatening manner.
He said, “Nay trouble th’ guards kinna handle.”
At last the street widened, and angled sharply downward. A large brick-paved area spread out and down to the water. Quays made from the same stone blocks found in the rest of the town stretched out like rocky fingers into the bay.
Two ships were tied up, the larger one obviously the naval vessel. A throng of humans stood in the middle of the area between the two ships, sailors from both talking, trading gifts, and handing over letters for mail going in different directions.
Fret pointed to the right of the crowd and said, “Look! Th’ twins and th’ bairn. I dinna see th’ thief. Bu’ they be talkin’ t’ Greystone an’ Lord Trant!”
Dudge nodded. The wizard and the human prince stuck out in the crowd of sailors even more so than the merchant twins and young Kirt. By the looks of their conversation, the two groups had not seen one another in a while. He deduced they must have come in on different ships, and he suspected Trant and Greystone were from the naval ship while the twins and Kirt had traveled on the merchant vessel.
Fret cupped his hands excitedly and yelled a greeting. When the humans looked his way, the young brewer scampered toward them.
Dudge smiled, but continued walking. It seemed a more fitting pace for a prince, he thought to himself. A movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned to see Puffin approach, followed by two other guards.
“Yer Highness?”
Dudge stopped and turned toward the guards. He said, “Aye?”
Puffin whipped out a dagger with lightning speed and stabbed Dudge in the stomach. He walked away with the other two guards without stopping to watch as Dudge grabbed his middle and collapsed to the ground in pain.
Chapter 13
When Stin shared the tale of the Mystic Bank during supper at Widow Raynora’s house, Quent grew intrigued.
“I wonder if the bank could hold things other than gold?” he said.
Stin shrugged and said, “Couldn’t hurt to ask. They do take a three percent cut upon withdrawal. Perhaps if you contributed some gold they’d take their fee from that. It’d be a shame if you deposited a hundred of your rare books and they kept three of them.”
Quent remained e
namored with the idea, and queried Stin closely as to the exact location of the bank. Once the guests cleared their plates and helped Raynora clean things up, Quent returned to his room to read while Stin headed out looking for a card game. The sun sank low in the sky and light began to dim when he hit the street.
He had given up on Berti’s. Nobody there would play with him anymore. Two other pubs held regular games, but word had spread. After a few rounds, when other players saw for themselves how successful Stin could be, they abandoned the game.
Tonight, Stin decided to try and sneak into the bad part of town. He suspected his ability to see through the backs of cards would be of less use in the dockside pubs. He presumed the stakes would be much lower among the seadogs, with games played for copper and silver rather than gold. But the crowds might offer some excellent pickpocketing. At the very least, the new surroundings would offer a change of pace.
Caught up in his thoughts, he did not notice the fine carriage on the street until it pulled alongside him and Captain Cessic poked his head out.
“There he is, just the man we were looking for. Hold, driver!”
The driver, dressed in fine red livery, pulled the team of four white matching horses to a halt.
The carriage, Stin noted, seemed rather more ostentatious than the carts comprising most of the street traffic in Corsairs Cove. It was fashioned with fine white oak paneling and accented in gold leaf. It even had a couple men standing along a platform in the back, dressed in the same red livery as the driver.
The one at curbside jumped down and retrieved a small footstool from a hook underneath. He opened the carriage door and bowed to Stin in a flourish.
Cessic said, “Come on in, Steck! There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Left with seemingly little choice, Stin mounted the step and entered the carriage. He sat down on a plush brown leather bench facing Cessic and an elderly man dressed in a crisp, finely tailored suit of clothing, the same shade of white as the carriage.
“Lord Toliver, meet Steck, my third mate.”
Toliver brushed aside a strand of thin white hair and gave Stin a friendly look of assessment.
“I hear you are a man with a nose for gold,” he said.
Stin replied, “I’m fond of the color yellow.”
“Indeed. I also hear you are remarkably adept at playing cards.”
“I discovered the joys of Primero recently. I was introduced to it not long after arriving in Corsairs Cove. Unfortunately, I’m afraid not too many people are willing to play anymore.”
Toliver smiled and said, “It happens when you win practically every game. Perhaps if you lost more, you could play more.”
“Perhaps. I don’t like losing, though.”
“Not when there’s gold at stake, ay?”
“Precisely.”
Cessic said, “Toliver is one of our sea lords. His house is up in the mountains outside town.”
Toliver nodded and said, “I was 18 when the sea called me. Captured by pirates on my first voyage, by Captain Nikaro on the Windfarie. Our crew was ransomed and everyone went home, except me. I fell in love with Corsairs Cove. I sailed with Nikaro from then on. Eventually I became his first mate. And after he became a sea lord, he funded my first voyage as a captain.”
Impressed, Stin said, “And now it’s your turn to sponsor other captains.”
“That’s the way of Corsairs Cove. Successful officers become captains. Successful captains become sea lords. Each supports those below him, helping the talented attain a higher rung.”
Cessic said, “We think you are particularly talented, Steck.”
Toliver nodded again. He said, “You have proven yourself multiple times. You’ve paid your debts. You’ve found gold where others missed it. You have made me quite a bit of money. I have recommended Cessic take you on his next voyage. He sails in a few days. He can teach you more about what it takes to run a ship. Mayhap one day he will fund your first voyage as a captain when he becomes a sea lord.”
Stin thought about Bellasondra and Kirt, and how he wanted to see them again. But here among the powerful men on Corsairs Cove, he felt like he was being offered something special. The way these rich and influential men were looking at him . . . He felt honored. And who was to say he couldn’t slip away sometime and still find his former traveling companions?
He said, “I’m your man.”
Cessic and Toliver both grinned. Toliver said, “And now, if you would care to accompany us to my home tonight, several other people are anxious to meet you. You’ve developed quite a reputation. Some brave few would even like to play a few hands of Primero with you, just to see how you can be so lucky without magic.”
Stin readily agreed. He said, “If the sea lords are willing to lose their gold, I am willing to take it.”
The three men continued their conversation as the carriage passed swiftly through the streets, then out into the countryside.
-+-
Stin woke up the following day in time for lunch, whereupon he regaled Raynora and her guests with tales of Toliver’s manor party. Most of the sea lords were there, ten or twelve incredibly rich men. There were no female sea lords. This led to some discussion with Raynora about women pirates, of which there were a few.
At the moment, Raynora said, there were no women captains or sea lords. But there was a legendary one by the name of Kyla, who proved so skillful at taking ships that she quickly amassed a fortune in loot and became one of the youngest sea lords ever. She lived during the time of the Battle of Hest, and had even tackled the evil wizard Lok at sea, if the legends were true.
Once the table was cleared, Stin told Quent he needed to go to the bank again. The sea lords had been quite fascinated with his abilities at the table. Despite Toliver’s house mage keeping an eye on things, along with everyone else with a wary eye out for magic, Stin continued to win round after round at Primero. Nobody could figure it out. In the meantime they kept contributing gold to the pot, and Stin came home almost four bags richer. He also brought word of Cessic’s upcoming voyage, financed once again by Toliver.
After lunch, out on the streets Stin searched for and found Cuppers, and hired his horses and wagon to help carry the bags. Quent came out with a thick bundle of books tied together.
“If the bank accepts these for safekeeping,” he said, “I’ll bring the rest over.”
Cuppers said, “What’s all the rush to get to th’ bank, sirrah?”
Stin said, “Cessic sails again soon, and we’ll be going with him.”
Cuppers’ eyes grew big with wonder. He said, “I want to go, too!”
“You don’t want to stay with your horses?”
“Sod that, sirrah. I want to go to sea! I want t’ help capture a merchant ship and share in the gold! I’ll never amount to much drivin’ a cart.”
Quent and Stin exchanged glances.
Quent said, “We could always use a cabin boy. When you hear the Wavecrest is loading men and supplies, show up at the dock and ask for me. If they won’t let you on as a cabin boy, I’ll take you as a healer’s apprentice.”
This statement pleased Cuppers greatly, and he practically bounced in the driver’s seat all the way to the Mystic Bank.
When Quent followed Stin inside the little storefront, disappointment streaked across his face. He said, “This is it?”
“Yes,” Stin said. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but the place is amazing.”
Stin set his four heavy bags down and they waited in silence, staring at the closed door behind the counter. Finally it opened and Mandross stepped out, loose clothes hanging off his thin frame. He looked utterly miserable.
“Oh. It’s you again. We take a—”
“Yes, yes, I know. Three percent upon withdrawal. I’m make a deposit today, though. These four bags.”
Mandross dolefully leaned over the counter to take a look. He said, “You sure do have a lot of gold.”
“Mandross, this is my friend Q
uent. He wants to know if he can deposit some books with you.”
Mandross looked at the bundle of books Quent had brought in and sighed dramatically. His shoulders slumped and his head drooped even further than before. In a monotone he said, “We accept anything. We’ll hold onto your entire room full of books for three gold. When you retrieve them, we’ll keep the gold.”
Quent’s brows furrowed. He said, “How did you know I have a room full of books?”
Stin smiled and slapped Quent on the back. He said, “They don’t call it the Mystic Bank for nothing.”
Mandross groaned. He said, “I’ve never heard that one before.” He turned back to Quent and said, “Do you accept the deal?”
Still somewhat amazed, Quent said, “I’m afraid, uh, I don’t have that much on me.”
“Here,” Stin said. “Take three of mine. Pay me back sometime.”
He opened one of his bags, pulled out three gold doublets and handed them to Quent.
Quent thanked him, handed the coins to Mandross and said, “I’ll have to make several loads with the horse and cart we hired.”
“No need,” Mandross said, sounding tired. “We’ve already transferred them for you.”
“Oh.”
Stin looked up and said, “What? You can do that? Why didn’t you do that with all my bags of gold I hauled in the other day?”
Mandross looked at him with a sour expression and said, “You didn’t ask.”
“Well, he didn’t either.”
Mandross ignored Stin and looked at Quent. He said, “Will that be all, milord?”
Quent said, “There was one I wanted to bring with me on the ship. Ethel’s Book of Herbs and Poultices.”
Mandross said, “It’s on the table where you left it.”
“Oh. Uh, thanks.”
Mandross reached below the counter and pulled out two scraps of parchment and a quill pen. He scribbled down some numbers and handed one to Stin, the other to Quent.
“Bring this back when you want your books,” Mandross said in a flat, dreary monotone.
Quent stared at the markings on the parchment and realized it must be the number of books now held by the bank. He said, “What happens if I lose this?”