by Martin Ash
I announced myself, having already decided upon the line I would adopt. ‘I am Linias Cormer, from Chol. I seek an audience with your master on a matter of hopefully mutual advantage. Will you permit us entrance and perhaps point us to some hostelry where we might pass the night?’
‘What is the precise nature of your concerns with Master Wirm?’ enquired a harsh male voice.
‘As I said, I have a proposition which I believe he will find interesting.’
I was gambling on Wirm’s curiosity. He had a shrewd if ruthless intellect, and was not one to allow a possible commercial opportunity to pass him by. And, aside from that, Guling Mire was an inhospitable place, offering little in the way of diversion. Few people came here by choice, and so great was the fear of unwanted outside interest in the elver industry that those who did were carefully watched and not made to feel welcome. Such an attitude was effective in preserving Wirm’s business, but it surely made life rather dull, if not oppressive. It seemed to me that Wirm, if he were at home, would welcome a break from his routine. He might be wary, but we were only three, after all, and with Wirm’s henchmen flexing muscles in every niche and cranny we could hardly pose a threat.
There were muted mutterings in the guardtower, and someone gave way to a fit of coughing. I shivered, pulling the hood of my cape up further, for the rain was running in at the neck and wetting my clothing beneath. I was beginning to think I might be wrong, that we were to be turned away after all, when the gate gave a shudder and drew laboriously open, just enough to allow us through.
Four guards in dripping capes stood within. Their sergeant, a beefy fellow in stuffed leathers and dented pot helmet, gestured across the way. ‘Apply to the inn yonder for a place to sleep. You’ll receive Master Wirm’s response in due course.’
The inn, named The Leaping Twiner by some inspired soul, was a rickety grey building of half-timber construction. Its external walls were flaking and its eaves were sagging and bowed. It was one of just two establishments in Guling Mire which accepted foreign guests, and it appeared empty when we arrived.
I took a chamber with three pallets. We were shown to it by a wheezing landlord who built a fire in the hearth and departed. There were a couple of leaks in the ceiling; a chamberpot and an old tin bowl had been positioned beneath to catch the drips. A fierce draught blew through a gap where the windowframe had rotted away. But otherwise the place was relatively serviceable, and as I had asked the landlord for his best accommodation I saw nothing to be gained by complaining.
We were changing from our wet clothes and warming ourselves before the fire when we heard the clomp of heavy footsteps in the passage outside. There came a heavy rap on the door. I opened it to face two soaked soldiers, dripping puddles onto the wooden floor. One of them addressed me. ‘Master Wirm requests that Master Cormer join him at his home.’
‘Ah, good. Are you to accompany me?’
The soldier nodded.
‘Excellent. Just allow me a moment.’
I quickly finished dressing, donned my cape again, took up the small bundle which contained the green amber, and joined the two guards.
I was led through dark, winding, slippery streets up the slope to Wirm’s manse. It was a sizeable three-storey building set behind solid walls of wet grey stone. Guards were everywhere: tough, surly-looking men who eyed me darkly as I passed. My escort took me to an opulently furnished chamber, and I noted the many fine ornaments that adorned the place and the quality of the furniture and decoration. Wirm showed himself to be not merely wealthy but a man of some taste, a quality I had not expected.
‘Slippery’ is a word that springs readily to mind when describing Wirm. ‘Eely’ might equally well apply. We had had limited previous contact, and that contact had not engendered within me any desire to know him better. He was a ropily thin, rather pale-fleshed individual aged somewhere in his thirties. Though less than half a head taller than I, his long limbs - somewhat out of proportion to his pinched torso - gave an impression of overall length. He seemed incapable of remaining still for more than a moment, comporting himself with quick sinuous movements and rapid shifts of stance. His face was narrow, sallow and deeply lined, with a prominent wedge of a chin. Wispy strands of pale brown hair fell past his ears but revealed much of his lumpy skull. His eyes were dark brown and incessantly mobile, travelling over you with short rests in unexpected places, as though he were constantly assessing your value in portions for varying purposes — a disquieting sensation. There was a faint oily sheen to his skin, and he had an unpleasant habit of touching you as he spoke, feeling your clothing - and even the flesh beneath - between thumb and fingers. This not only reinforced the feeling of being assessed, but also - in my case, at least - left me with a barely resistible impulse to look down at the place he had touched, half-convinced I would find a patch of slime glistening there.
‘Master Cormer, is it?’ said Wirm, rising, almost leaping, from a green divan as I entered. He came forward and slid his hands around mine, smiling. ‘Welcome, welcome to Guling Mire.’
As he let go of my hand I found myself reflexively moving to wipe it clean on my trousers.
‘Allow my man to take your wet cape, sir. Will you have wine?’
I thanked him and handed my cape to a servant. Wirm poured ruby liquid into a silver goblet, then ushered me towards a carved oak chair laid with soft blue cushions and positioned before a blazing hearth.
We were not alone. Another man lounged upon a second divan to one side of the room, near a window. He was a short, sloppily dressed individual with a bulging paunch and glowing red cheeks. Wirm introduced him as Vecco, but did not enlighten me as to his status or reason for being there. As Vecco made no contribution to our conversation I was none the wiser when I left.
‘You have come from Chol, I am told,’ said Wirm. ‘Purely to see me? I am honoured.’
‘Certainly I have ridden to Guling Mire with the sole purpose of seeking you out, Master Wirm. However, it would be untruthful to say I have come directly from Chol. Rather, I am lately out of Kemahamek, and am en route for Dhaout, in Anxau.’
‘Ah, so.’ He appeared to give this a moment’s reflection. ‘And you have a proposition, is that not the case?’
Wirm had seated himself opposite me, lifting his legs to lay them upon the green divan and supporting himself on one elbow. My own position placed me with my back to the silent Vecco, a situation that did not put me at my ease.
‘I am employed by the family Maille-Orchus,’ I said, ‘members of the Chol aristocracy with close links to the Royal House of Chol. My master, Lord Olmin Maille-Orchus, has sent me forth on private business to Dhaout, but bidden me pay equal heed to a second task, that being to purchase choice samples of the famous Grey-backed Twiner flesh of which he has heard so much.’
I saw the gleam in Wirm’s eyes, and a smile flickered suddenly upon his thin lips. He sat up and his free hand, the one that did not hold his goblet, roamed across the divan, long fingers lightly pressing, plying, pinching the short green pile. Plainly I had struck the right chord. To my knowledge twiner flesh had not been exported as far east as Chol, due largely to the fact that access to that remote land was severely restricted. But the potential now to introduce his goods to Cholian aristocracy, and even royalty, was something Wirm found too tempting to dismiss.
‘Are you intending to take the Twiner meat back with you, Master Cormer?’
‘That would be my hope. But it will be samples only, at least for the present, for I can carry no more. My master, however, has asked me to make enquiries in regard to establishing a regular supply, should he find the meat as palatable and efficacious as its reputation suggests. Do you have that facility, Master Wirm?’
‘I have been working on it.’ Wirm rose quickly and began pacing back and forth. ‘Access to Chol is not easy, as you must surely know. The White River is perilous and indeed impassable in many areas. The lands to its south are inhospitable, due to terrain or hostile inhabitants
or both. Likewise with the north, though perhaps marginally less so. Yes, conceivably that is the route I would use: from Kemahamek through Nirakupi, Wansir and Jhirango, utilizing both river and land. Yes, yes, I see no reason why it cannot be done.’ His manner became a little cautious. ‘However, the distance and extra expenses involved would be bound to have an effect upon the price.’
‘That is understandable. I am sure we could arrive at terms acceptable to both parties.’
‘Yes. I shall have to make calculations and advise you. Of course, if your master wishes to purchase in bulk, prefers to make his own conveyancing arrangements, or is able personally to introduce me to other interested and influential clients, then the price would reflect accordingly.’
‘Good. Well, this sounds most promising. My master will be delighted. I think we can discuss the details later, perhaps after you have advised me of your basic price.’
‘Are you intending to take your samples with you now, Master Cormer?’
‘I think upon my return from Dhaout will be most convenient, I will be less encumbered then.’
‘Do you expect to be long in Dhaout?’
‘I do not think so.’
Wirm now stood close, inclining his head and torso over me. His eyes were on my left shoulder and one hand was poised as if he were about to touch me there. ‘Would it be impertinent of me to enquire as to the nature of your business in Dhaout? I have many associates and very good friends there; perhaps I might be able to assist you in some way.’
I sensed that his interest was more than casual. ‘Ah, no. It is a personal matter between my master and a former associate of his who is now resident in Anxau. But I thank you for your offer.’
The fingers of Wirm’s hand, which had descended to feel the cloth of my tunic lightly, now withdrew. He clasped his hands together and straightened, stepping back a half-pace and surveying me. I could almost hear the clamour of his thoughts as they skeltered along two parallel courses: how he might establish a sure and profitable trade route into Chol, and how he might learn more about my business in Dhaout.
I was pleased; my deception seemed to have passed off smoothly. I was now a dignitary in Wirm’s eyes, someone to be accorded goodwill and respect. I offered him a path to greater wealth and influence. I felt I could now broach a stickier matter without risk of arousing his suspicion or disfavour.
‘So be it,’ said Wirm, his eyes for some reason on my shins. ‘But if there is anything I can do to assist you, sir, please do not hesitate to ask. I am travelling to Dhaout myself in a few days. Perhaps, for added security, you might prefer to accompany me?’
‘You are most generous, Master Wirm, but with all respect I feel I must leave early tomorrow. I am already somewhat delayed due to harsh weather and one or two unavoidable incidents along the way. I am therefore keen to be done as quickly as possible and begin my journey home to my beloved Chol.’
‘Quite so.’ He gently pinched his upper lip between forefinger and thumb, his eyes glassy, then said, ‘I shall have a price for you before you leave, and will make sure that the very best samples of twiner are made available for you upon your return.’
I drained my goblet and rose as though to leave, but at the same time took up the cloth bundle which contained the chunk of green amber. ‘Before I depart, there is one other matter on which I would like to ask your opinion, if I may, Master Wirm.’
‘I am at your service, sir.’
I displayed the stone. ‘Can you tell me anything about this? I understand it was bought from you.’
Wirm’s face registered mild surprise as his eyes fell upon the piece. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘From a Khimmurian merchant, Master Dinbig of Hon-Hiaita. I had hoped to acquire more like it, for I have seen nothing that quite resembles it. Master Dinbig was unable to help, other than to advise me to contact you should the opportunity ever arise.’
I was aware suddenly that Vecco had arrived at my shoulder. He gazed with waxy eyes at the amber, then looked up at me. He grinned unpleasantly, his lips, purple and pulpy, parting to expose darkly stained, gappy teeth. He brought his goblet to his mouth, tipped back his head and emptied it noisily. He looked again at the amber, then returned without a word to his seat.
‘I’m afraid I can’t really be of any service to you,’ said Wirm. ‘It is true I sold the amber to Master Dinbig. I picked it up in a village in the mountains, just across the Anxau border. The peasants find such things from time to time and are generally happy to exchange them for something or other with any passing trader.’
‘Do you recall the name of the village?’
He shook his head vaguely. ‘I asked about other pieces like this, but they had no more. I feel you would have a wasted journey even were you to find the right village.’
‘Ah, well, I must content myself with just the one, then. No matter.’
I returned the amber to its cloth. I was fairly sure that Wirm was, understandably, simply protecting his own interests by not revealing the name of the village. But he was probably right that I would find no more amber like this there. I said, ‘I have heard that Master Dinbig no longer walks among us. Some sad business in Dhaout, I was told. It’s a pity; he seemed a genial fellow.’
‘Yes, that is so,’ agreed Wirm.
‘I believe you were one of the last to see him alive.’
‘Indeed. I was in Dhaout when he foolishly committed his crimes. I subsequently saw him in the hands of His Excellency’s men.’
‘His Excellency?’
‘Feikermun the Illustrious.’
‘I was told that Master Dinbig was tried and executed.’
‘Yes, I was there.’ Wirm squirmed, kneading his hands - not with embarrassment or discomfort, I felt; more out of satisfaction. He was barely able to contain his rising pleasure. It chilled me. I tried to sound casual.
‘You were present? At his execution?’
‘I was.’
I had not expected this; Lord Mintral had made no mention of it. The implications were suddenly many. ‘Are you in close association with His Excellency then, Master Wirm?’
‘I am.’
Yes, of course. Feikermun had no doubt developed an appetite for twiners, encouraged by Wirm, who was the sole supplier. Wirm had wormed his way firmly and securely into Feikermun’s favour - as secure as anything was with Feikermun, that is.
‘Then you actually witnessed my - ahem - you were present at Master Dinbig’s end?’
Wirm drew in a quick breath, turning slightly away. He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘It was a cruel death.’
Again I sensed his arousal, though he tried to disguise it. I fought down my revulsion and growing anger. Why should he feel such pleasure at my death? It could hardly be personal - we barely knew one another. He was, I could only conclude, perverse.
‘What were his crimes? I have heard variously that he sold substandard goods to Feikermun and that he seduced one of Feikermun’s favourite concubines.’
‘Both are probably true,’ said Wirm. ‘Dinbig was a fool - something I had not previously taken him for.’
‘How long ago did this execution take place?’
Wirm waved a long hand vaguely. ‘Oh, pph, a month past, perhaps longer.’
‘Are you certain of that?’
He looked at me curiously. ‘Quite sure, Master Cormer. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, only that it seems less than a month since I bought this
amber from him. But no, thinking back, it was longer than that.’
But my friend Inbuel had been positive in his account. He had spoken to me - to my double - in Dhaout less than a month past.
I let the matter drop; to pursue it further might well arouse Wirm’s suspicions. I glanced across to the silent Vecco, whose unpleasant gaze continued to appraise me quite brazenly. I was relieved that my business here was done for the present. Wirm summoned his servant to fetch my cape, and the guards to escort me back to the inn.
Th
e rain had ceased when I came from Wirm’s manse. Dark, angrily fringed clouds scudded southwards. The moon was high. Its light glistened on the waters of the foul marsh below, throwing up tortured phantom forms out of trees and the shadows of trees. Long lines of upright stakes, sunk into the mud, and weighted nets linked by cork floats marked the individual eel-tanks and man-made lagoons. Narrow wooden jetties thrust across the surface, spindly and crooked. I shivered, and wrapped my cape around me.
Yet again I was visited by the sensation that the ground was giving way beneath my feet. In Guling Mire, of course, this was quite literally true. The low hill upon which I stood was little more than an island floating on primordial sludge. If I took only a few dozen paces in any direction I would almost certainly find myself in soft, wet ooze, being sucked into the earth’s dark and foetid depths.
As we made our way back down into the township I went over all that I had learned, tonight and on the previous days. Nothing seemed to quite come together; time and events seemed to have lost all sensible correlation. My mind swam with the strangeness of it, but the fact was that the real strangeness was only now about to begin.