The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  Standral laughed. He had to remember that he was not Drake while he was here. “Of course I came back. I have an investment here to check on. How has business been?”

  Chanbern led him back inside and pointed. There were no more than five empty chairs. “See for yourself. I’ve had to get more help. There are three more girls now.”

  “Impressive. I have a few surprises as well, but they will wait. I need a bath and a bed. Is either available?”

  “The bath is, but the bed will have to be aired. Just a moment.” He whistled a shrill tune and E’tha appeared.

  “Laird Standral, welcome back. Yes, Master Chan?”

  “Standral needs a room. Freshen up something for him.” He turned to Standral as E’tha left in a hurry. “E’tha is my assistant now. She paid off quickly, mostly due to her skill and enthusiasm in bed. She is quite sought after, and apparently worth every spark she charges.”

  “Yes, I imagine she is.” He’d played bed-games with a Silent Clan assassin once before and lived through it.

  “So, tell the tale, Standral. What have you been doing?” Chanbern was openly curious and made it obvious that he was not going to let Standral get any rest until he was brought up to date.

  “Well, to begin, I have bought into the wool trade in Chanders, as well as several other businesses. I own half of the Stooping Falcon Inn, and have made a name for myself as a brewer, thanks to you and the family recipe.” He paused as E’tha returned. “Thank you, E’tha, and congratulations. I understand you paid off rather quickly.”

  “Yes, Laird Standral.” E’tha left hurriedly and returned to her duties.

  “I’ve been keeping busy counting sheep and making ale for the most part, with an occasional foray into some other business. I have a fifth of a cartage company, and find that I’m paying myself to haul my own freight. It gets confusing on occasion.”

  “And what is the occasion for your visit back here?” Chanbern was trying to be subtle, but Standral got the message.

  “Winter. I figure I can spend six months here, six months there. That way I don’t wear out my welcome as fast.” He smiled and laughed, starting Chanbern laughing as well.

  “You don’t wear out your welcome. I will give you that. But what of the other inn? What is the name?”

  “The Stooping Falcon. It’s owned by a scoundrel named Lervin, and he’s none too happy about my buying up his debts. He wants to buy me out, but I’m not going to let him. I like having an inn or two.” Standral smiled, and Chanbern returned the smile.

  Standral spent the winter months learning more from Chanbern. Running an inn through the slow cold season took a special touch. Chanbern had that touch, and their menu changed to reflect it. Hotter dishes, and more hot drinks were added to the menu. Beer and ale were still available, but mulled wine and makanin-spiced apple jack were the most popular drinks.

  Standral learned something new almost every day. He applied some of the things he had learned in Chanders to his business in Westport, and found that he was at an advantage in many cases just because he was willing to do things in a new way. His fortune grew daily, and it wasn’t long before he began buying into shipping and trading houses. He also bought into the wool and cotton trade in Westport, supplementing his income from wool in Chanders and in one case putting himself in competition with Drake Standralson. As spring once again came, he made plans to go to Chanders.

  “Chanbern, I leave the Unicorn in your hands. You are still better than I will ever be. I will send messages when there is news.” Standral clasped hands with his partner, then rode away.

  E’tha stood beside Chanbern and sighed. “Will he come back, Master Chan?”

  “I hope so, E’tha. I hope so.”

  * * *

  Back in Chanders, Drake was not greeted with open arms by Lervin. “Well, you came back.”

  “Of course, Lervin. You didn’t think I would just die and leave you with the Falcon all to yourself, did you?” Drake was enjoying himself. He didn’t like Lervin any more than Lervin liked him.

  Drake left the Falcon to visit Lady Danlin. “Danny, I have good news. I was able to buy up more of the wool trade in Westport. That gives me a good fifth of the market.”

  “What?!” Danlin sat heavily on her chair. “You went behind my back and bought more wool? Why? And what do you mean that you own one fifth of the wool. Don’t you mean we own one fifth?”

  “No. I own one fifth of the wool trade. What I own with you is less than one fifth, and I only own thirty percent of that. I am talking about my personal holdings.” Drake had a cold edge to his voice, and Danlin saw that he needed to be convinced that she should be included in his assessment of his holdings.

  “Now, Drake, don’t be that way,” she purred. “We are partners, after all.”

  “Yes, we are. But that does not give you automatic access to all my holdings. Only those that we hold in common.” Drake was not as easily influenced as Danlin thought him to be, nor was he as young. Not nearly so young.

  Danlin’s eyes flashed and hardened for a moment, then softened again. “We will have to do something about that, now won’t we.” Her arms slid around his neck and she pulled him down into a kiss. “You aren’t trying to keep me out, now are you? I thought we had a satisfactory arrangement.”

  “Quite satisfactory, Danlin. But we are talking about business, not pleasure.”

  “They are the same thing for me. Business is a pleasure, and pleasure is a business.” She smiled deeply at her play on words, but Drake wasn’t buying it.

  * * *

  Drake spent the summer months consolidating his holdings and brewing beer and ale. Lervin welcomed that, at least. The Stooping Falcon was becoming a much more popular place while Drake was brewing, and Bandar started talking about a partnership.

  “Laird Drake, I have a proposition for you. Let’s combine our talents and see if we can come up with a better beer than either of us make alone. I have some ideas, and I am sure you and I can reach some agreement.” Bandar was seated at his favorite table in the Crooked Tree’s main room.

  Drake nodded. “Yes, the ale you brew has a very distinctive flavor. But the recipe that I am using has spent generations being perfected, and is not mine to give away. I hope you understand.”

  “Oh, I do. I do. But if we create something entirely different, based on your recipe and mine, then we will both be better off.”

  Drake considered this for a time, then nodded. “Very well. When do we start?”

  “Right now.”

  Bandar and Drake spent most of the summer trying out small batches of their experimental beer. They kept careful notes, and found a recipe that was all they could hope for.

  Drake’s other investments were paying off as well. He was known as a Mage, and no one dared try and cheat him. He never let on exactly how powerful he was, but no one was willing to try and test him.

  He repeated his pattern of winter in Westport and summer in Chanders until he was well known in both cities. He was surprised to return to Chanders to find that Lady Danlin had wed Laird Colem Willowby during the winter.

  “Well, you weren’t here. Colem was. He is also a real Laird, not some barbarian with a title.” Danlin’s ardor had cooled considerably over the course of the last few years.

  “Good for him. Excuse me, Danlin. I have something that needs to be taken care of.” Drake stalked away, angry in spite of himself. He had known what Danlin was like from their first time together. A cat in heat couldn’t hold a candle to Danlin’s randiness.

  The Red Curtain was the best whorehouse in Chanders. Even the lairds used the services of the skilled courtesans that inhabited its rooms. It had at one time been an inn, and had fine, large rooms that made for an enjoyable romp with the girls. Drake stalked in and picked a girl at random.

  Mistress Glarinton nodded at his choice. “Stephlin is a good choice. A nice sturdy girl, and a sweet disposition. The house rules are simple. No permanent marks. No pain, unless
you are suffering it. No damage that will require the services of a healer. No breaking things. And when you finish, you leave. She has other customers as well.” The mistress was standing with one hand on her hip, the other on the doorway. “And don’t try anything regrettable. My enforcers are among the best in the city.”

  Drake nodded and took the girl upstairs. He took his time with her, using her as a sounding board for his plans and ideas. “Is it right, what we are doing? I mean, is it right to corner the market that so many people depend on?”

  Stephlin smiled and stretched. “What market is that, Laird?”

  “The wool market.” He was turned away, so he didn’t see the look of alarm that crossed her face. “Lady Danlin and I have been buying up wool shares for four years. Soon we will have the majority we want. Then the wool trade will belong to us. But is it right? All my life I have tried to do what was right. I haven’t always done it, but I have tried.”

  “Laird Drake, I don’t know if it is right. But it is not a good idea. Many of the great lairds have money tied into the wool trade. Angering them is not advisable.” Stephlin was anxious to get rid of Drake, though she was careful not to show it.

  Drake eventually left, and Stephlin left immediately after him, though she had a far different destination in mind. “Uncle Banister? It’s Steph.”

  “Come in child. Come in. This is a surprise.” Master Merchant Woodley smiled as he greeted his niece. None of the family had been happy about her taking a position at the Red Curtain, but he was at least still talking to her. After all, Mistress Glarinton was an old acquaintance of his.

  “Uncle Banister, have you ever heard of Lady Danlin, Laird Colem, or Laird Drake?”

  “Yes,” he replied cautiously. “Why?”

  “I just spent some time with Laird Drake. He is feeling unsure about what he and his friends are doing. They are trying to purchase fifty percent of the wool trade, and then they will control it all.” Stephlin’s eyes were on her uncle’s eyes, and saw them harden.

  “They are what?” he demanded softly. “Stephlin, repeat as much of what young Laird Drake said as you can remember.” By the end, his belly was quivering with alarm, and he summoned his aides.

  “Merix, have a meeting of the shareholders called, but leave out Lady Danlin and Laird Standralson.” Merix nodded and disappeared. Within the hour Laird Banister’s library was full wool merchants and herders.

  “Gentlemen, we have a crisis on our hands. Lady Danlin and Laird Drake are trying to buy up all outstanding wool shares to get control of the market. We must act decisively and swiftly to stop them.”

  “Ban, are you sure? How could they manage that without our noticing it?” The speaker was a young man, and he was just about to get a lesson in humility.

  “You will not call me ‘Ban’, Laird Dremor. Only my friends and equals may do that, and you are neither. What we will do now is attempt to ascertain the extent of the damage that this is doing to us. And how to stop it.” The room broke into noise as masters and merchants began discussing Merchant Banister’s revelation.

  After about three hours, the room quieted. “This is the proposal I have been presented with. We need to buy up all unclaimed stock in our markets. We must, at all costs, prevent Laird Willowby, Laird Standralson, and Lady Danlin from getting their hands on the control of our markets.”

  The gathered men agreed, and soon there was no wool on the market for Danlin or Drake to purchase. Danlin was, of course, furious. “Damn them! How did they find out?”

  Laird Colem Willowby watched his bride stalk about the room, clenching and unclenching her hands. “Darling, we are very close to our objective. Just you wait. Things will work out for the best.”

  “I can’t just wait. There is too much at stake,” Danlin snarled as she stalked around the room like a caged cougar.

  * * *

  Drake had spent the week tending to his brews, intending to leave for Westport again as the weather cooled, when he received a note summoning him to Danlin’s side. Gods Below, what does she want now? He quickly headed to meet her, and was almost there when a bag was thrown over his head. He struggled briefly, but something in the bag was drugged, and he drifted off into the dark.

  Monas and Stilmat picked up Laird Drake’s body and loaded him into a waiting cart. Lervin had sent them after the laird with instructions to dispose of him. No one was going to miss him, not after what he had done. Lady Danlin had suggested this course of action to Lervin after learning that it had been Drake’s talking to a whore that had ruined her plans. They drove out of town and stopped on the cliff over the Brightslash River.

  Stilmat helped Monas pull the laird from the cart and pulled the hood off his head. Once he was starting to come around, they led him to the edge of the cliff.

  “Wha? What’s happening?” Drake was groggy from the drug, and having a hard time focusing on his surroundings.

  “Lervin and Lady Danlin have decide to sever their ties with you, Laird Drake,” Monas said from beside his head.

  A flash of sun on steel and a burning sensation on his neck warned Drake that he was dying. Then he was falling, tumbling through the air. He tried to open his wings, but he was in human form. He saw the water rushing up at him, and instinctively turned his body so that he entered the water feet first. The shock of the cold water revived him enough to let him clasp his cut throat together and summon the healing powers he possessed. Skin closed and sealed as he fought his way to the surface. Once there he floated on his back, thankful that the Brightslash ran deep and calm here.

  Up on the cliff, Monas and Stilmat watched Drake tumble into the water from fifty feet up. When his body floated up to the surface without a struggle, they both nodded.

  “That be the end of that,” Stilmat said in a satisfied tone. Monas nodded and climbed aboard the cart for the ride back to town.

  Drake floated until he had completely healed the cut to his throat. Monas and Stilmat were dead men when he returned. He struggled to shore and rested on the bank. After a time, when the sun began to set, he transformed into Amberdrake. Revenge would wait. Everything would wait. In his pocket had been the deeds and bills of sale for everything he had acquired. They were in an oilskin pouch, and had not suffered from the water. Time was, as always, on his side.

  * * *

  “They tried to murder you?” Mellody demanded. “Just slit your throat and tossed your body into the river? And they got away with that?”

  Drake grinned. “Not completely. You know me better than that.”

  Saunder asked, “What did you do?” in a soft voice, as if fearing the answer.

  Drake grinned and started speaking again.

  Adventure 10

  My Return to Chanders

  THE LEAVES CRUNCHED UNDER MY FEET as I approached Chanders. The town is nothing special, just another old border town that the borders have passed by. Houses and shops expanded well beyond the city walls that had once protected the population from raiders. Now those walls protected the rich from the poor. With some misgivings, I passed unhindered into the city of my birth.

  I passed the inns where the poorer citizens drank to their sorrows, and moved on to the more affluent portion of town. Though I was afoot, I had the gold to buy a place at even the finest inn. Being a dragon can be profitable at times.

  I approached the Stooping Falcon, an inn where well-to-do thieves and merchants mingle with minor nobility in noisy camaraderie. Noise greeted me as I pushed open the door. The odor of massed humanity greeted me as well and almost turned me away. But the need to be with my own kind, my kin no matter how distant, made me ignore the stench. I waded through the crowd to the bar and called for a beer. The serving wench plopped a mug down in front of me, but grabbed my wrist before I could grasp it.

  “Let’s see the color of yer coin, buck. Lervin, he don’t feed the poor.” She had a firm grip, though I could have pulled away if I had chosen to.

  With my free hand I pulled a Shreverston go
ld crown from a pocket in my vest and negligently tossed it onto the bar. The wench’s eyes lit at that and her grip loosened. She slipped her hand up so she was holding my hand like a lover and smiled broadly at me. “If ye be looking for more than beer, keep Letten in yer mind.”

  I smiled, though she’s not one I would’ve chosen in most circumstances. “I’ll do that, Letten. For now, though, fetch me Lervin. I have business with him.” I kept my voice soft, but something in my tone alerted her to the fact that I didn’t like Lervin at all. “Tell him that Drake Standralson is here.” Her eyes went wide and she backed away, glancing to the end of the bar.

  An impressive young man saw her glance and stood to glare at me, filling the available space with his massive shoulders. Big kid. Lervin always favored beefy enforcers. Letten continued to back away until she reached a closed window cut in the wall behind the bar. She knocked softly and turned to speak over her shoulder when it slid open.

  Almost before she had turned back to me, the door at the end of the bar flew open and a man stumbled through. Lervin has aged poorly. His hair, what there was of it, was dirty white, and wrinkles lined his face. What was most shocking was that he has shriveled up like a prune. The Lervin I remembered from ten years ago had been a fat tub of lard. This Lervin was loose skin hanging on bones that were all too prominent.

  “Hello, Lervin. You look like shit.” I watched his eyes as he reacted to my presence. “Your men did a poor job of disposing of me, though they did manage to get rid of me for a few years.”

  Lervin’s head shook side to side as if he was having a seizure. “Can’t be. You can’t be Drake. Drake has been dead for ten years!” Lervin yelled. His face was flushed, and his hands shook violently. I found myself smiling broadly.

  “As I said, your men did a poor job. Care to join me for a drink?” I smiled at his fear. Ten years ago, he’d tried to kill me. Now it’s my turn. He began backing away, shaking his head violently from side to side as if he was trying to deny my presence. The enforcer at the end of the bar looked confused, like he couldn’t figure out what to do. I wasn’t threatening Lervin. I didn’t even stand up, yet Lervin was acting as if I had a knife to his throat.