Gold & Glory

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Gold & Glory Page 18

by M. H. Johnson


  "Well played, lad. I take it we are going to York after all?" Riegland asked, his voice one of sardonic amusement despite his broken forearm.

  "Why yes, dear Captain, so we are!" Sorn answered brightly. "Little problem with the hatchway leading down to the quarters, however. I'm afraid that first step's a doozy! Poor Kalek will have to go through the storage opening, nicely expanded, I might add, to get to his precious little pipe, but that's no problem, as we can now pass freely and comfortably between storage and quarters!"

  Riegland sighed. "Do I want to know?"

  "Hmm… I don't particularly think so, Captain, but take heart! The external hull is sound, so at least we didn't break anything important down there, right? Now if one of your men would be so gracious to prepare some refreshments? Seeing as how we had to forgo Kalek's poor taste in hospitality."

  Cowed by the battle they had witnessed, reassured, it seemed, by the fact that Sorn and their captain appeared to be on speaking terms, the crew hastily brought forth considerable dry rations, and one of the water barrels.

  "Lad, the flasks… they were only to put you to sleep." Strangely enough, it seemed important to Riegland that he understood this, despite the fact that Sorn no longer appeared interested in thrashing the matter out with him.

  "You know what, Riegland? I believe you. I believe that you really thought it was just a sleeping drought. Trust me on this though, it wasn't."

  "Forgive the question lad, but how can you tell?"

  "Alchemy," Sorn said, thinking quickly. “My companions are being trained extensively in the art, and the detection of impurities, especially poisons, is a vital and lucrative skill in demand by all those save a precious handful who have gems of purity, and very little equipment is required. We were clued in by the smell, which may be subtle, but nonetheless was easily recognizable by one who had dealt with just such a poison before we left port. But if you think it's just a sleeping drought still, hey you are more than welcome to try it!"

  "Oh no, lad," Reigland said, "I'll take your word for it."

  "Don't feel too bad about our little dispute, by the way. You are a well-trained swordsman, Reigland, and no doubt normally I couldn't touch your skill were it not for the potion of strength I had taken the liberty of using."

  Reigland's eyes widened in comprehension, and he seemed a lot more comfortable now that things finally made more sense to his way of thinking. "So it was the potion, lad?"

  Sorn smiled. "How else could I possibly beat a skilled swordsman twice my size? Rest assured, sir, I came well prepared. My master always taught us to be ready for anything on the road, and an alchemist trained in swordplay is not someone the average cutpurse wants to meet. Please inform Kalek of this, should he get out of hand again. I always have more potions to spare, should he need to be dangled from the prow again."

  Reigland gave a full-bellied laugh to Sorn's smile.

  "I trust, sir, that we have managed to work out our differences?" Sorn said.

  "Indeed, lad, I have no quarrel with you. Hear that, boys? We have no quarrel, and will treat our guests with all due courtesy."

  Reigland couldn't help grimacing with a sharp hiss of pain as he got up to stand, but his stance was steady as he clasped Sorn's grip in his offhand, formally signifying their truce for all. With a parting cold stare for Kalek, who only looked away and shuddered, Sorn grabbed the considerable rations and water flasks handed to him by the awed crew and went down the grain bulkhead to his cousins below.

  "Tell us again what you said to Kalek!" Fitz enthused, his brothers still laughing at their cousin’s recount of the condescending belligerent trader being reduced to a sniveling coward.

  "Enough, dear cousins," Sorn said with an amused smile. "It's sufficient to say that he wasn't as anxious for me to let go of him as he had originally thought." This, of course, brought a fresh round of snickers at poor Kalek's expense.

  Presently the four were staying in Kalek's former quarters, having dragged in the blankets and ticks from their former room, now sadly in need of serious repair. The ticks and blankets were all lumped together in a cozy heap. Things being as they were, they had decided they might as well make a nest of it, after all.

  Presently, Sorn was perusing the contents of Kalek's small chest, all earlier hesitancy he had had in regards to the man's privacy or thieving now long gone, in light of the fact that the man had tried to poison them. "Look at this, guys, a bag of what I can only assume are coins by the disk-shaped lumps, a rolled scroll of some sort, and, yes my cousins, a very suspicious looking vial right here. No, don't touch it," Sorn cautioned a curious Lieberman who flashed him a hurt look. "Think about it, cousins. If we do end up bringing this to the authorities, and they do bring in one versed in arcane lore, do you really want them to sense our essences on the vial? Didn't think so." Sorn finished, smiling at Lieberman's embarrassed grin.

  "I love the part where you told Reigland about us being apprentice alchemists! Did he really believe you? Do people really make potions of strength here?" Hanz asked with a smile.

  "How should I know? It sounded plausible to him, and whatever keeps people guessing about us is a good thing. After all, cousins, though it may hurt one's pride, it is tactically to our advantage to have our foes underestimate us, unless we need to intimidate them. And guys, rest assured, whether they thought it was a strength potion or no, they were all quite intimidated!" Sorn grinned.

  The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, despite the earlier excitement. When the dinner bell rang, a tense but polite crewman brought them steaming bowls of stew and bread. With a polite smile to the crewman and a discreet spell assuring that the food was indeed just food, the four ate their dinner in relative peace, having occupied themselves till then chewing the week's worth of dry rations and water that Sorn had earlier brought below.

  The only other eventful part of their trip happened later that evening as Sorn and the trio were abruptly jolted out of their sleep by Sorn's triggered alarm spell to find a miserable looking Kalek in front of their door. Red eyed, puffy, stinking of vomit and stale sweat, Kalek was trembling.

  "I need my pipe," he said in a pathetic mewl, intimidated as he was by the sudden presence of the four youths staring coldly at him in the doorway. His expression was a mixture of surprise, terror, and pleading. "Please, just give me my pipe." he went on, hands held out imploringly.

  "I know, Fitz! Let's find him his pipe!" Lieberman said, manic gleam to his eye completely lost on a pathetically nodding Kalek.

  "Yes Lieberman, let's!" Fitz agreed in malicious accord. "Is this your pipe, sir?" Fitz asked holding up Kalek's pipe from his desk. "And are these your herbs?" Lieberman queried, holding up a bag of what could only be just that.

  "Yes boys, yes!" Kalek said, nearly crying in relief. "Thank you boys, thank you!"

  "But sir," Fitz said mockingly, "we're just showing you. It doesn't mean that we're going to give it to you."

  "No, it doesn't!" Lieberman smiled.

  "Please, boys, please… I need my pipe! My head, and my belly… I need it!"

  "Whereas our heads and bellies meant nothing to you." His mocking banter gone, Fitz's eyes glittered with icy contempt. Kalek blanched, stumbling back from the doorway, the innocent seeming mask of boyhood slipping just enough to reveal something far more terrible than Kalek could bear to face. "If you had your way, the four of us would be rotting in our quarters right now, wouldn't we? While you sat here smirking with your pipe at how clever you thought you were."

  All three identical youths were now glaring at Kalek with a cold hostility, a bleak hunger that caused Kalek's legs to shake from more than just opium withdrawal. In that moment, Kalek trembled like a rabbit gazing into the eyes of a pack of wolves. Indeed, he seemed barely cognizant of the sudden stench of his own loosened bowels. His face melted into the most pathetic of grimaces. He trembled with desperate need.

  "Please, boys, I didn't know! I'm begging you, just give me my pipe, okay? You can have e
verything else in the room. Just give me the pipe and a few wine flasks okay?"

  Sorn abruptly raised his hand to halt Fitz's contemptuous reply. "Think cousins," Sorn said with a smirk. "This is trade. Kalek just made an offer, and I'm guessing that the stock in this room has value. He freely made the offer, and we never said we weren't going to give him the pipe. No, brothers, his offer is a genuine one, so I say we accept, what do you guys think?"

  Hanz tilted his head with a smile, and Lieberman nodded thoughtfully after a moment. Fitz looked peeved, then smiled at Sorn's wink. "Okay," Fitz concurred, “let's.”

  A teary-eyed Kalek was handed his pipe. "Thank you, lads, thank you! Now if you would just be so kind as to allow me some flasks and my herbs?"

  "Here you are!" Sorn said with a bright smile. "Take these three!"

  "Oh thank you!" Kalek said, his flabby frame straining under their modest wait as Sorn casually passed him the flasks. “Now, lad, if you would pass me my herbs?”

  "Oh, I'm sorry Kalek," Sorn crooned with false sympathy, "but your offer specifically called for pipe and wine flasks, in exchange for everything else in the cabin, and I'm afraid that includes the ‘herbs.' Goodness only knows what we'll use them for. We'll probably just toss them overboard, and watch them float away. Ah, well, can't get the best of every bargain, can we dear Kalek? A pleasure doing business with you, nonetheless." Sorn smirked as the miserable shaking man gazed at Sorn with dawning horror.

  "Oh, Kalek, just one other thing," Sorn said brightly. "Seeing as how you are now sleeping in our former quarters, we thought it only fitting that you get to partake of the very flasks you left for us there! You don't mind of course, do you, Kalek?"

  Kalek's bitter cry of frustration set the youths to laughing. "Don't feel too bad, Kalek. After all, you did say it was just a sleeping drought, right? If you really believe that, well then, have a swig and nighty night! Your headache, bellyache, and all the miserable discomforts of a wretched fool who has given himself to vice are gone, and you can forget all about what a craven treacherous coward you are! Of course, if it isn't really a sleeping drought, then you don't have to wake up at all. Good night, Kalek!" With that, amidst the triplet's laughter, Sorn shut their door.

  9

  The next day shown bright and clear, and the four youths spent the morning on deck enjoying the sunrise, the whole horizon lit up in a wonderful canvas of crimson and gold.

  "Beautiful morning, eh lads?" Reigland smiled, looking over the prow for a moment, enjoying the view. The captain also looked more comfortable with his arm in a splint, Sorn was glad to see. "Well, I got a ship to sail, boys, so enjoy the view." With those words the captain left them to their space on the prow.

  Fitz eyes lit up with innocent wonder. "Wow! The sea is a beautiful place, and I love the way the shoreline just peeks out at us like a river of green covered by mist."

  Sorn smiled and nodded. "Agreed. Well, Reigland said we should get there by midday. I'll leave you guys to the view while I go check up on Kalek."

  "Why bother?" Fitz asked. "Isn't he still tied up?"

  "Probably," Sorn allowed, thinking about how after repeated banging on their door begging for wine and pleading with them not to throw his herbs overboard, nor torment him with the poisoned drink, Sorn had decided to just tie the pathetic drunkard up.

  Sorn turned to face Fitz, who was at that moment still admiring the early morning view. "But Kalek will have to be untied anyway before we meet with the factor, and given his share. And let's face it, cousin, we may have to allow him some of his vices before we hit port, just so he doesn't make a complete ass of himself at the factor's, so desperate he is for his herbs."

  Fitz sighed in agreement. Sorn wasn't too happy about this part, but he would never break a contract or his word once given, and this pathetic merchant was certainly not going to be the cause of his dishonor.

  It was a happy crew that finally made port, midday as per Riegland's prediction, and it was an awed set of youths who witnessed just how massive the city of York, capital of the duchy, really was. Buildings stretched up the gently sloping hill as far as the eye could see, many of the structures being at least three stories tall, if not taller, Sorn observed as they sailed into port, the size of which was impressive in and of itself.

  "Well, boys, here we are," Reigland proclaimed, "York city, shining jewel of the capital! Now, let's get you to your factor, and Kalek off of my ship!"

  "Sounds good," Sorn allowed. "Sounds like you're not too anxious to continue captaining under Kalek."

  "Not at all, lad," Reigland said. "I'll make you a deal. Don't go to the constables with Kalek's little attempt at foul play. Let me handle that. I'll hold onto the vial and flasks, if you don't mind, and convince Kalek to sell me the ship, very cheaply indeed, if he doesn't want his little adventure to come to light with my crew vouching for his treachery, and my own complete ignorance, of course." Reigland smiled. "In return for this, I could see to it that your own trade ventures were made a bit more profitable by oh, say, several gold royals when I next hit this port. What do you say?"

  "Captain," Sorn said, speaking for his beaming cousins, "You have yourself a deal!"

  "Excellent." Reigland smiled in turn, and formally shook hands with Sorn before turning once more reflective and shaking his head with a sigh. "Time was when Kalek was actually a decent trader with a fair head on his shoulders, what before his little opium addiction resulted in the pathetic wretch currently going by that name." Reigland smirked. "If nothing else, he still has an eye for the markets, when he isn't loaded to the gills. Who knows? Maybe I'll keep him on… as ship's help!"

  Sorn and the triplets couldn't resist snickering at the thought of the arrogant condescending Kalek being reduced to sniveling ship's help on what were once his own barges. "Sounds like a good plan, Captain!" Hanz said.

  Reigland’s grin was a nasty one. "I'm going to go have a few quiet words with our dear Kalek, and both of us shall be returning very shortly, I'm sure."

  Shortly thereafter, the four youths, preceded by Reigland dragging along a miserable looking Kalek, made their slow steady way through the crowded streets of York. Sorn found himself once again near overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, even here by the docks. Most wore woolen cloaks in various degrees of repair, interspersed with the occasional lightly dressed sailor or laborer carrying barrels or other loads to various warehouses. Everyone walked at a clipped pace, busily hurrying to whatever well-known destination their feet were taking them, and all wore near uniform expressions of intense preoccupation.

  As Sorn and his cousins slowly made their way uphill, the weathered building exteriors were steadily replaced by stately three-story structures, many of stone construction for the first floor, the second two made of whitewashed wood that shown brightly in the sun. All in all, it was a bright and airy contrast to the buildings of Pormar.

  "We're here, lads," Riegland said, using the door knocker at the front of a particularly well-kept house before stepping back, this one even having several rose bushes in planters on the cobblestones near the entrance. Sorn noted the inlaid plaque above the door which said, quite simply, 'Jesere - Factor'. Shortly thereafter the door opened to reveal a preoccupied blond-haired woman dressed in fine woolens who courteously bade them enter.

  "And how might I help you gentle sirs today?" she asked with a polite smile.

  At that Sorn stepped forward, favoring the woman with a dip of his head. "Greetings. My name is Sorn, and these are my cousins Hanz, Fitz, and Lieberman. The two men see behind us are Captain Reigland, and Kalek, the merchant who agreed to ship our grain here for a profit share," Sorn explained. "We have come here with grain purchased from Lord Canterbier near Pormar to sell to a merchant we were told to expect would be waiting for us here in York. Pemith, our factor in Pormar, instructed us that the trade had been arranged in part through the offices of Jesere the factor, and recommended that we avail ourselves of the opportunity to be represented by her in this
matter. Would I be correct in assuming that you would, in fact, be Jesere the factor?"

  The woman nodded, gazing curiously at Sorn. "Your assumption is correct, young sir. I am indeed the factor Jesere. It is true that I did inform my contact at Pormar of the opportunity to sell a significant quantity of grain at an excellent premium, but I was led to expect someone else…"

  "No doubt Lord Canterbier's men themselves, I assume. But no matter, I understand your confusion. Please, look over these papers to your satisfaction. They signify both the sale of the grain to my cousins and me from Lord Canterbier, as well as our acceptance of a contractual hauling by the merchant Kalek here." Kalek gave a defeated grunt at this, drawing an understandable stare from the woman, who couldn't help noting Kalek's red eyes, matted hair, and generally dilapidated appearance. Not only that, he still reeked of alcohol, vomit, and what Sorn assumed was opium.

  "He is a bit of a drunkard, my lady," Reigland spoke up, seeing her discerning glaze. "I've sailed with him for years, and tend to handle things when he's not feeling up to it. Alas, the poor bastard forgot that he actually had to arrive in person today, so couldn't hide in his quarters waiting for me to do all of our business. Kalek, show her your papers," Reigland ordered, to which a defeated looking Kalek handed the rather crumpled contract he had signed with the youths that had been co-signed by the factor Pemith.

  At that point Jesere rang for a servant to bring wine and pastries, a ritual that seemed to be standard factor protocol, Sorn noted with some amusement. While making himself comfortable on the soft, padded leather chairs made available to them, Sorn was pleased to see Jesere carefully perusing the documents. For just as a skilled factor appeared to be a trader's best ally, so too, Sorn could think of few better measures of competence than the care with which Jesere poured through their papers. If nothing else, it was nice to see that she took Canterbier's interests very seriously, and no doubt wanted to make sure everything was as it should be. Sorn could only hope that whatever factors he might one day trust at least a portion of his fortunes to would show a similar interest on his behalf.

 

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