by Guy Antibes
“What do they come for?” Commander Eshing said.
“Spicy food and lots of it. You won’t find sailors coming here anymore, but the fare is much the same,” the woman said.
“I’m up for spicy,” Eshing said. “You choose.” He gave the chalkboard to the woman.
“I’m not, but whatever is somewhere between bland and whatever he gets,” Sam said.
The clientele, upon Sam’s closer inspection, seemed to consist of merchants and ship’s officers, along with their wives. “This is a place to discuss business?” Sam asked Eshing.
The man nodded. “It is, and I wanted to discuss some business with you. Why are you here rather than in Baskin? I’m surprised a man like Faddon Bentwick would let you go.”
Sam gave Eshing a summary of investigating Captain Fork and Minister Bolt. “The pollen expert fled after trying to steal the gold,” Sam said, covering up for Banna Plunk, who wasn’t mentioned by name or even referred to as a woman. Emmy didn’t make Sam’s story, either, but his disability did.
“You actually had an audience with the Toraltian king? I don’t believe it.”
Sam shrugged. “He had an aversion to young men with pollen aversions, it seems. I hope my lack doesn’t affect my helping you with this case.”
Eshing looked shocked. “Why would it? I don’t harbor any animosity toward you, more pity than anything else. From what I can see, you’ve compensated for any lack. As I said, I can understand why Bentwick thought you could be an asset to the snoops of Baskin.”
Sam’s story seemed to have eased some of Eshing’s stiffness.
“So what do you want to accomplish here?”
Eshing looked around at the clientele. “At the Sailor’s Rest? Get a good meal, most of all. I’ve always wanted an excuse to come here, and the demise of Harbormaster Penstock provided one. Do you think anything nefarious would occur here?”
Sam shook his head. “But you never know what kinds of deals are done over these tables.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that bribes were taken here, but we aren’t investigating Penstock. We are trying to find his murderer, and unless there were an altercation, we wouldn’t discover anything, so we ask a few questions, and then we go to the Pelican’s Maw where something less savory is likely to have happened.”
The serving maid returned with their meal. She brought two goblets of water.
“Ale for me,” Sam said. “Light ale.”
Eshing laughed. “You’ve been told not to drink the water?”
“I have,” Sam said, feeling his face flush warm.
“Our water is strained and boiled, young man,” the woman said. “Nothing to worry about at the Sailor’s Rest.”
“You wouldn’t want to trust the water at The Pelican’s Maw,” Eshing said, “but in any decent restaurant, the water is okay.”
Sam was dubious, but he accepted the water glass and prepared himself for a hot, spicy meal. He noticed some of the peppery red vegetables in the sauce on his plate and removed those as they ate. Actually, the meat was more tender than at the place he had eaten with Desmon, and even he could tell the food was more carefully prepared.
“You don’t have an aversion to Carolank food,” Eshing said.
Sam nodded. “I’m sorry. I was hungry,” he said. He noted that Eshing had finished most of his dinner, too. “Weren’t you, too, Commander?”
Eshing smiled. It wasn’t the smirk affected by Dickey Nail, but it didn’t shine very often. “I was. Let’s ask a few questions and leave.”
The server came to clear the plates.
“Did you know the harbormaster?” Eshing said.
She frowned. “I was wondering if you’d get around to asking. Poor man. He was a very good customer.”
“You served him?”
She nodded. “He came three or four times a week. All of us took a turn serving him and his friends.”
“Whom did he eat with?”
“By himself often enough. He was a popular person. Captains, mostly.”
Eshing was freer with his smile with the woman than he was with Sam. “Anyone strike you as odd in the last week or two?”
The woman looked flustered. “Not that I’d notice every time, but he had dined with lots of different people. I never thought to keep track. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Eshing said. He pulled out some Norlank coins and paid for dinner.
The woman blushed. “Thank you, sir.”
Evidently, Eshing had left a large tip.
“I will ask the other servers if they noticed anything untoward.”
“Please do. I am Commander Eshing—”
“I know you are with the Guard, sir. Don’t worry. If something comes up, I will send a note.”
Eshing gave the woman a curt bow of his head and rose. Sam followed the commander out of the restaurant.
“Will she send you any information?”
Eshing frowned. “Probably not, but one never knows. I left her an awfully generous tip. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Whoever committed the murder will expect we are looking for them anyway.”
Sam kept quiet. Dickey had used bribery as an investigative technique only once while with Sam, but that didn’t mean that was his only time while he served as Dickey’s apprentice. Sam thought it might be useful if he could learn to read people better, so they wouldn’t just snatch the tip and do nothing. At least Eshing didn’t have any high hopes of getting information from The Sailor’s Rest.
They walked all the way across the wharf and plunged into a rougher area. Sailors staggered in the streets, so Sam guessed some on-shore sailors began their drinking early.
The Pelican’s Maw was more like he expected. The place was noisy, filled with mostly men talking loudly, and the only women that Sam could see were employed one way or another at the establishment.
Eshing spied a table and turned it so both of them could sit and look out at the tavern.
“Been in taverns before? During my one visit to Baskin, there was a law against minors in drinking places.”
“Accompanied apprentices were an exception,” Sam replied. “But I didn’t get out much. My time in Baskin was pretty busy.”
“That’s right. You learned during your undercover operation at the noble’s tavern. You had to learn Vaarekian.”
Sam nodded. He guessed Eshing had paid attention to his storytelling.
“I kept the lessons going after my time at the club was over.”
“So you are going all the way to Tolloy?”
Sam pressed his lips together. “I am. I have to find a place to live, so I will go to the end of the voyage before I make a decision.”
“I’ll take you in as a snoop if you wish to return to Carolank.”
Sam was surprised by Eshing’s offer. He had seemed so antagonistic in the few days he had known him. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” Sam said.
Eshing nodded. “I like that, too. I make plenty of mistakes myself. You saved me from making a bigger one at the harbormaster’s office. You saved some lives. I don’t take your efforts lightly, young man.”
Sam shrugged. “I do what I can.”
“And that is good enough for me. Think about it, since you have months to do so. How old will you be when you come back through?”
“Sixteen, at least,” Sam said. “Four months there and back if I returned immediately. I am flattered by your offer, but I can’t commit to anything. I promised Antina Mulch to deliver some items to her friends in Tolloy.”
Eshing sat back, looking at the patrons. “I’d rather you return with a little more seasoning, anyway. See me if you come back through Carolank. I’ll not mention it again.”
“I will,” Sam said.
“Mention it?” Eshing asked, looking a bit sly.
“Your offer. I will think about it.”
“Do. Now, tell me what you see?” Eshing asked.
Sam’s eyes brightened as he thought of something. “I forgot
to ask you if you know what kind of sword this is?” He went to his drawing of the new sword in Penstock’s office.
“Wollian, if I recall accurately. These were in his office?”
“Along with the mask I gave you.”
“The pollen matched the color of the sample you took from the shroud, by the way,” Eshing said. With dinner and the offer out of the way, the commander was back to business.
“So, a Wollian or someone pretending to be a Wollian,” Sam said.
“Or a Wollian in the employ of a Wollian or a non-Wollian,” Eshing said. “What does it give us?”
“Perhaps a lead, perhaps not,” Sam said. He had been excited about the development, but Eshing put his discovery into perspective. “Will you do anything about the clues in Harbormaster Penstock’s office?”
Eshing harrumphed. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do anything. It is another set of leads that may lead nowhere or may lead to something. Some leads are better than none.”
That was good enough for Sam. Desmon didn’t produce dark green pollen, so Sam still didn’t suspect Desmon as the actual killer, but that note was passed on to the Wollian at the bar.
Eshing tasted the ale just as it came. “If you are going to drink any, do it now. We will be getting to work. Our job isn’t to gawk at the customers from our perch,” Eshing said.
Sam took a few swigs. It was as potent as the stuff served before. The Carolankians liked their ale with lots of alcohol. He shook his head and blinked his eyes. “No more.”
“Good idea, lad,” Eshing said. “Follow me.”
The commander stood and led Sam over to the long bar. There were two men busy serving ale and stronger drinks to customers. Sam couldn’t think of why anyone would need anything stronger than what he had just tasted.
Eshing beckoned both bartenders over. “I’m working on finding the person who murdered Harbormaster Penstock. What can either of you tell me?”
“Honestly, sir, we wouldn’t know,” one of them said. “We work from the moment we step in the Maw to the time the doors close.”
“Mendy Grassey would have served him. They got along very well.”
Eshing nodded. “Is she here tonight?”
“Over there,” one of the bartenders pointed to a dark-haired woman serving tables.
Sam figured Mendy was Banna Plunk’s age or a little younger. She looked fit and seemed to have a ready smile for her customers.
“Thank you,” Eshing said. He took off toward the woman without another word.
Sam nodded to the bartenders, who quickly went back to their work amidst complaining patrons.
“Mendy Grassey?” Eshing asked.
“That’s me,” she said turning to the commander. “Oh. Is it about Horis?” Sam detected a catch in her voice.
“It is. Can you spare a moment? I’m Commander Eshing of the City Guard.”
She sniffed as her eyes began to water. “I can, sir. Just sit here.” She pointed to one of the few empty tables.
Sam watched her finish up with her customers. She walked into the kitchen and came out, joined by another serving maid.
“There,” she said with a sigh, blinking and wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m sorry.” She blinked some more and looked up at the ceiling. “Horis and I go way back. No one needed to kill him. He was flexible, if you know what I mean.”
Eshing gave the woman a tight smile. “I think I do, even if I don’t approve.”
She turned her head and shrugged her shoulders. “What can I tell you?”
Eshing turned to Sam. “Go on, Smith.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t prepared any questions for the woman, but he sighed before he said anything. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“The night before he died,” she said. “He came in with one of his friends.”
“A friend?” Sam asked.
“Someone who wanted something from him. Horis always liked to conduct his business here or at the Sailor’s Rest, rather than under the watchful eye of that cute little clerk of his.”
“Can you describe the friend?” Sam said. He pulled out his notebook and turned to the next empty page.
“Darker skin. Black hair. One of those people from the island nation.”
“Wollia?” Sam said.
She brightened just a bit. “That’s it. Wollia. He was shorter than you, young man, and his hair was beginning to gray.” She looked at Eshing. “Older than you, for sure, commander. I’ve seen the man in here from time to time.”
“Not a naval person, then?” Sam said.
“I don’t think so. He has been coming in here regularly to meet people, always around this time. That night was the only time he met with Horis.” She looked around the room. “I don’t see him.”
Sam’s eyes scanned the room, but no one looked like a Wollian. He removed his spectacles and noticed that someone wore a mask. He saw a face with darker skin. Sam put his spectacles on and memorized the man’s two faces. The man looked more like Kindra, the nomad sailor. He quickly sketched them in his notebook before he said anything to Eshing.
“He may be in this room wearing a mask,” Sam said.
Eshing looked surprised. “I don’t see a mask anywhere.”
“A pollen full-face mask. I saw a few in Toraltia. He is on the west side of the room close to the fireplace. White-haired older man.”
“Ah. We can see the side of his face?”
Sam nodded.
“You go to the left, and I’ll go to straight ahead. Tackle him if he heads toward you,” Eshing said. “You stay here, Miss Grassey. I’ll want you to identify him.”
Sam had his wand out and held it next to his leg as he threaded his way through the tables. Eshing reached the man before Sam.
“I have a few questions for you,” Eshing said.
The man’s face hardly made an expression. He wore a mask for sure, Sam observed. He got up to flee, but Eshing grabbed onto the man’s hair. The white wig slipped off, much to the surprise of the commander. Eshing’s hesitation was all the suspect needed to bolt.
Sam moved to his right to cut the man off. He struck him in the leg, and that sent the man to the floor. Sam leaned over and grabbed him by the collar. A dark green pollen club grew out of the man’s hand, and it slammed Sam’s face. He fell backward but clung onto the jacket, which the assailant shrugged off, dropping the club as he ran out of The Pelican’s Maw.
Eshing gave chase, but Sam couldn’t join him. His nose bled down on his shirt. Mendy handed him a towel. He picked up his dropped wand and walked over to the table that had the fugitive’s empty seat.
“You will not be leaving until the commander returns to question you.” Sam’s voice was muffled as if he had a cold. He would have asked the men questions, but it was all he could do to keep his eyes open through the pain.
A few minutes later, Eshing returned empty-handed and pulled an empty chair from an adjoining table.
Eshing took a minute to regain his breath. “That was no old man,” he said.
Sam remembered the graying hair of the Wollian. “And he was definitely short,” he said. Sam blinked through his pain and looked at the men still sitting at the table.
Eshing twined his fingers together and put them on the tabletop, leaning forward. “Who was he?”
Sam leaned down to pick up the pollen club at his feet and showed it to Eshing. “Does this dark green color remind you of anything?”
Chapter Eleven
~
T he next morning, Sam woke up in a spare room at the City Guard office. His head ached, and the pollen pad they had put on his nose was already beginning to shred. He blinked away a few tears, but his face was much improved. The headache was from the ale the guard healer had him drink to put him to sleep.
Sam rose and saw his cleaned shirt, still showing traces of his own blood, draping a chair. He wore a guard’s shirt a size or two too big. His shirt was still too damp to wear. Whoever had w
ashed it hadn’t done a particularly good job. He shook his head, but the aching only got worse.
He found his things, and after putting his shoes on, Sam walked out into a corridor. He had no idea where he was.
A guard walked past.
“I need to see Commander Eshing.”
“You’re the boy who helped him last night?”
Sam nodded carefully.
“Take the next right and then down the stairs.”
When Sam reached the lobby, he walked to the counter, looking at the guard and up at the officer sitting on a platform above him.
“Is Commander Eshing in?”
“He hasn’t come in yet,” the officer said, looking for something on his desk. “He left a note here.” His eyebrows rose as he grabbed a piece of paper. “He can go back to his ship and return at the noon hour.”
Sam looked at the clock in the lobby, not too surprised that he had slept until nine in the morning. “I will return.” He left the guard office holding onto his head.
He checked his pants for his gold tip, which he always did and found it, eliciting a sigh of relief. High fog covered the sun, and that was fine with Sam as he made his way to the dock and past the guards, still standing at the gangway to The Twisted Wind.
Desmon waited for him as Sam stepped onto the deck. “What happened last night?” he said, looking more concerned than Sam expected.
“I, uh, overindulged.”
“If you did that, then why is your face bruised?”
“It is?” Sam asked. He touched his nose and winced at the pain.
“I overindulged and was involved in an altercation.”
“A tavern brawl?” Desmon asked.
“It happened in a tavern, but it wasn’t a brawl. We found a man who didn’t want to be caught, so that makes Commander Eshing and I want him more,” Sam said. “He looked like a Wollian nomad, to my eyes, and a mask decorated his face that was not Wollian, and the club he hit me with matched the shroud. He is the murderer, or at least an accomplice.”
“In disguise?” Desmon said.
“Why else use the face of a Norlankian with white hair?”
“I didn’t go around with a mask!” Desmon said.
“I know it wasn’t you. The man wasn’t any taller than I,” Sam said. “But he looked like the Wollian nomad who was killed on the ship. Do you know of any Wollian nomads in Carolank?”