by Will Molinar
The smile crinkled. “Indeed. Guild Master,” he said and walked around to come in front of Muldor, his thin hand extended. Muldor took it, staying wary. The grip’s strength was surprising. “I have not yet congratulated on your recent promotion. Forgive the transgression. There is no better man for the position.”
Muldor shook the proffered hand and let go. “I thank you, Lector Morlin. The Guild has been my life’s work, but I would have never imagined being its leader one day. I am humbled by the placement.”
Morlin patted his shoulder and went back to his side of the desk. “This is the perfect reason for you to be promoted to the position. Your concern for your people is well known, Master Muldor. Kudos to your sacrifice. It has not gone unnoticed.”
They were watching Muldor. It was no surprise and was to be expected in fact. Perhaps he would have to assign some of his own people to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the church personnel.
The Arc Lector steepled his hands in front of his face. “So, Guild Master, what is it that brings you to our humble sanctuary this morning?”
“Nothing in particular, your grace. The church is something I have little experience with, and I had some spare time this morning, so….”
Morlin’s chuckle was airy and amused, not condescending. “I doubt very much you have ‘free time’ as you say. Forgive my amusement at your expense. I meant no disrespect, but you are far too busy a man to have time to spare to come here willy-nilly. Please, humor me and tell me what is on your mind. Believe that I am a good listener, it comes with the position as Arc Lector.”
Muldor gazed at the man, his eyes blank. The Arc Lector stared back, his intelligent eyes full of expectant warmth. It was like looking into the eyes of a loving parent. But Muldor had his doubts. He stood and indicted the window.
Morlin spread his hands. “By all means.”
Muldor went to the window and peered out. Among the stained glass, there was a clear spot of regular glass that allowed him to see the portion of the inlet leading to the shipping yards. The rushing water flowed by, slapping against the rocks on the north shore. The sheer cliffs rose above the limits of his vision. The rock was a light brown in color, nearer to where the water hit the sides, where an eternity of time had carved a path to the ocean beyond.
“Your mind is on your fleet,” Morlin said. “Is it not, Guild Master? I suspect they are making good progress by now. I congratulate you again on its construction. War and the resultant death are abhorrent, but I do believe it was the correct decision. Lurenz is a scourge upon this world, and he and his ilk should be stomped out from existence if we are ever to create a purer future.”
Muldor felt stunned, for the fleet had flashed into his mind the moment before the Arc Lector said anything. There was a high degree of calm about his persona, an unshakable faith and confidence in his being that was unnerving. Muldor was beginning to understand why Castellan had come to him for advice. Or perhaps the Arc Lector sought him out for nefarious purposes.
Muldor felt the urgency to find out more about the man, this thing. The future of The Guild might’ve been at stake, for it was obvious Morlin was interested in them. But it might’ve been too dangerous to delve too deep. Lives were at risk, even now, as the fleet sailed.
“Your concern for your men is touching.”
Muldor turned to him, shocked, feeling violated, as if the men were somehow reading his innermost thoughts with some witching device. The Arc Lector’s countenance had changed, as had his voice. It was more sonorous and deep as the oceans, old as the mountains.
“It is true your men are in peril. Even now, as we speak, many of them go to their doom. You placed them in this position because you believed it would secure your place as Guild Master. Is that not correct?”
Muldor shook his head to clear it. “No. I mean… no! My concern is with the men’s lives and the future of The Guild. We provide jobs, we….”
“Give men security, yes.” Morlin sat forward and was no longer smiling. “You also give yourself and the other Dock Masters security in your jobs. Money and control are powerful temptations and so is pride, my dear man. You are so very prideful.”
The man’s face was hard as steel, and Muldor saw a burning, eternal fire leap into his eyes as he came to stand in front of the window by Muldor.
“This is why you have come here today. You are sick, Master Muldor. Like most men of this town, you have let pride blind you to the One True Word, and this will lead to your damnation.”
Muldor swallowed and found himself so intimidated by the burgeoning force of the Arc Lector he almost turned away and ran. The man’s eyes bore into his, the sharp features as fierce as a hurricane.
“Yes, you are a very sick man. Make no mistake, your mind needs healing and only the One True Word can provide an ease of this suffering. Will you listen?”
Muldor could not answer, for he had no voice.
* * * * *
“You said you could free us,” the one named Becket said.
Zandor cleared his throat. “Sure but what happens then? Have you folks thought that far ahead. See, I don’t live here. You all need to consider how to take back control of the situation.”
The wealthy men and women around him muttered to one another. Some had answers, more had questions, and they all spoke over each other.
“What do you mean?”
“The police will handle it.”
“We escape of course! What else?”
“But where do we go? They had taken our homes! There’s nowhere to go.”
“They might be waiting for us right outside!”
“They could kill us as easy, right here and now.”
“I don’t want to die!”
“Quiet! All of you!”
Zandor chuckled. The last exclamation had come from Becket, and he admired the man’s leadership and nerve. The man talked to them like they were children, for that was how they were acting. Zandor wondered how far he could have swayed the man into chaos if needed.
“Waiting here gets us nothing,” Becket said. “There’s no reason not to escape. Maybe they think it’s secure enough not to bother to guard it. They wouldn’t take us hostage, only to kill us later. After we break free… we’ll go from there.”
Zandor felt eyes on him, and he held up his lock pick set and jingled it. “Do my best, boss.”
He went to the door and got to work. Meanwhile, the people around him talked again, this time with more enthusiasm mixed with impending terror.
“Oh, but those men are robbing us,” said a fat slob. Zandor could smell his sweat and blubber. “All my precious things… my home! Those vile men are in my home, right now!”
“Be quiet, Mister Devin. Crying about it won’t change anything.”
“Leave him alone, McGrady. He’s right. They are robbing us as we speak. Why pay so much to these security men if it is so easy to pull something like this off? All that wasted money.”
“Yes! It’s a scam, I tell you. That agency was already suspect in my eyes, now this! Oh, enough I say. It’s time for us to move on, find something else.”
“Whine all you want, gentlemen,” a woman’s voice said. “I for one have safety precautions in place. They will never get to my safe.”
Zandor let them prattle on some more, but it made opening the door more difficult than it was. The key for the door was in his hand. It was important to keep gleaning information from the fools, so it would’ve been easier later to rob them more.
“Got it,” he said a few minutes later and popped the door open.
A flood of relief tinged with apprehension washed through the crowd of two dozen as the door swung open and torchlight spilled inside. They blinked in front of the open door, muttering and unsure about what to do next.
“You are a handy man to have around,” Becket said.
Zandor smirked. “At your service, sir. It’s lucky I don’t live here, or I might be getting robbed like you all are.”
“Indeed. Yes, you said you didn’t live here. What brings you to Sea Haven?”
“Business. Run a security operation in fact. Maybe we should talk after this mess is cleared up.”
Becket hesitated, looking him up and down. “Perhaps we should.”
People started shoving them forward through the door, but Becket took charge once again. “Hold on, everyone! We don’t even know what’s out there. It’s best to proceed with caution.”
“Damn it, man, anything is better than here! Let us through!”
“I must get out! Let me by.”
People shouted and clamored, and chaos reigned for many moments. Zandor stifled a chuckle and motioned for Becket to come forward with him outside, glancing over his shoulder.
“I’m sure it’s fine. You were right, too. Looks like some kind of warehouse here.”
Becket frowned but could not stop the forward momentum of two dozen people. They exited in a flurry of silk robes and huffing breath. The poor dock master got elbowed in the face by a puffing prune, and Zandor took note of how unskilled he was in a physical sense.
He stumbled back and put a hand to his face, cursing under his breath. Becket was tall and thin with a light step. He was handsome in a sort of aristocratic way, with curly light brown hair. He stepped back from the press of bodies, and Zandor stepped with him, having no trouble staying out of the way, and he steered him clear of the throng.
“Thank you, Master Zandor,” Becket said and looked around.
“It’s just Zandor.”
“Oh, well, my thanks. Yes, we’re near the shipping yards. But who knows how safe it is for all of us to be out in the open. I don’t think they would neglect to leave a guard, even though we were tied.”
“I reckon that’s true,” Zandor said, nodding, looking thoughtful. There were boxes and crates stacked outside the warehouse, with the inlet to their left. Moonlight spilled down, and the shock of light was mild enough. At that moment, there were some shuffling noises to the side of the warehouse, and many of the people gasped and yelled as two thugs, looking as if they had just awoken from naps, stumbled towards them.
“Hey, what’s this now?”
“How’d you all get out?”
The thugs rushed up, brandishing swords and kicking at the wealthy people. One man got knocked back with a broken nose, and a woman screamed.
Zandor sprinted at the thugs and launched himself into the air, driving a straight kick into the first man’s gut. He was careful not to cause much damage but enough to make it look good for the watchers. The man knew the agreed upon script and doubled over.
The other thug cried out and swung his sword, but Zandor was faster. He ducked and rocked him with a straight jab to his jaw. The man lost consciousness on his feet and fell like a brick, crumbling at Zandor’s feet. Oops. It was harder than intended but whatever. It looked more authentic.
Zandor shook his hand. It stung. And the knuckle on his right fist was split. Even better.
The other thug was beginning to recover, but the former prisoners became braver, and one man grabbed the fallen sword and held it to his throat. The hood raised his hands in surrender.
“Good job,” Zandor said and took the sword from him. “We’ll hold ‘im here ‘til we get some answers. And everyone else….” Facing the crowd, he had their complete attention. “If you all wanna reclaim your homes, you better follow me and do everything I say.”
Everyone listened.
* * * * *
It was close to midnight. The moon hung low in the sky, bathing the scene in wondrous light. A strong breeze sprang up, and the Lord Governor of Sea Haven shivered on his horse. It was cold for the season. Autumn had just begun.
Cassius felt exhausted. The hour was much past the time he would have retired for the evening. His guards grew restless as well, and so were the remaining security men, though he did not cast them more than a passing glance of disdain every so often. After the rebuke by Dillon and the other police officers, he had sat and stewed for several minutes, thinking up ways to exact revenge upon the simpletons. Torture would have been too good for them. They might’ve became martyrs. Blackmail was better, for they would become his tools to use as he saw fit.
But an hour had passed, and the thoughts no longer gave him pleasure, for it began to dawn on him that the impudent men were not coming back. They had meant what they said. This was a clear dereliction of duty.
His captain of his guards whose name escaped him stirred in his saddle. He eyed Cassius with open annoyance. Cassius had had enough. “Is there a problem, captain? Thinking of getting another job? Leave if you wish. There are plenty of ditches need digging.”
He gave the man credit for keeping his calm. “My lord, sitting here does nothing for us. My duty is to safeguard your life. If this neighborhood is barred to our party, then we can find a tavern to bed down for the night and settle this in the morning.”
“Yes,” said another guard. “If the police won’t do their job, send in the City Watch. They have superior numbers.”
Cassius gave them his best condescending glare. “A scenario I have considered, gentlemen. Alas, the purview of their duties does not cover this particular neighborhood, as ownership is through a private, foreign administrator. Political bureaucracy is a burden at the best of times.”
“But, my lord, if the private security is compromised,” the captain said, “this would constitute an emergency, would it not?”
“Yes, and a situation that can only be rectified by the police of this city if the security furnished by the foreign investors are unable to fulfill their duties. You don’t understand, our good man Dillon is correct. Their charter is royal, and they are privy to their own authority. The City Watch cannot interfere as this neighborhood is outside the confines of city administration.”
The captain bristled and sat straighter. “Then maybe we go and settle this.”
Cassius smiled. “Very brave of you, captain. But a dozen men against an unknown force capable of taking out the entire security force with such ease is a poor plan. I would be sending you to your deaths, and then I would be unprotected.”
“Then we go to the police station and demand they do their job! This is ridiculous, my lord. You are the Lord Governor and should not be treated this way.”
Cassius rubbed his temples. His bones ached. “Ah, fine. We shall go. I have no argument in mind that may persuade them, but I suppose it is worth the attempt.”
Even though he felt deflated and annoyed, his exhaustion and desire to end the night, one way or another, overrode his better judgment. He let them lead him towards City Hall and the police station. The burning lights of the wealthy quarter, hanging on their gas bulbs, faded behind them. They rode by the remnants of the new jail, and the husk of a foundation stared back at him with cruel eyes.
Braziers burned and lit up the paved street around the station, and the only sound was the clip clopping of their horses’ hooves. Cassius’ captain had them pull up short, and the Lord Governor glanced over at the steps leading to the front of the jail. Several men stood and regarded their group with gazes as stony as the surrounding buildings.
The captain spoke, his commanding voice echoing across the street. “In the name of his Lord Governor Cassius, I command the police force, under employment by the city of Sea Haven, to perform their duty to safeguard citizens in need.”
The police ignored him for the most part, but some scoffed and others chuckled. Most of them were smoking and drinking. One of them spat on the street in front of the captain’s horse. The captain bristled, and his men looked ready to defend his honor as their hands went to their swords.
Cassius rolled his eyes. More male posturing and machismo nonsense! It never changed. He addressed the police. “Officers, if you would be so kind as to inform Lieutenant Dillon I wish to speak with him, I would appreciate it.”
The officers looked at one another for a moment and then muttered to each other. After a short conver
sation, one went off and returned a few minutes later. He stood on the steps and looked Cassius straight in the eyes.
“The Lieutenant said to pike off. My lord.”
His bodyguards shuffled their horses, and the steeds blew steam in the cold night air. Cassius shook his head and hung it, feeling the pounding sensation that came with extreme fatigue and dehydration.
“How poetic,” Cassius said. “The lieutenant is quite the wordsmith.” He turned to his men. “I’ve had enough of this. Let us be off. Captain, you mentioned perhaps staying at an inn. I believe Madam Dreary’s is open to all weary travelers.”
They rode off.
* * * * *
Muldor stared. He held his breath and prepared for flight or fight. It was an animalistic urge. The Arc Lector had changed, become something beyond a man. His presence was palpable, intense. Morlin was no longer a being of flesh and blood but a force of preternatural nature.
But Muldor steeled himself and stood his ground. “Your words have no meaning for me. They are baseless.”
“Baseless? Bah! You know nothing. The One True Word is known to all men, whether they realize it or not. It teaches us we are brothers and sisters, that we are all connected as one.” Morlin put his hand on Muldor’s shoulder. The limb was like steel. “You have a following, Guild Master, as I do. The common man loves you. They speak of you here at Tranquility’s Palace. You make a supreme effort to safeguard their livelihood. Your pride does you well in this case. You desire prosperity for all. Is this not true?”
Muldor looked at the hand on his shoulder. The physical contact had jarred him out of his lassitude, the opposite of what the Arc Lector had intended, no doubt. He turned away and went back to the desk. Morlin dropped his hand, and the fire in his eyes dimmed, though the man was no less intense.
Muldor had to steady himself on the desk. “I desire… I desire that my actions may relieve suffering for those under my care. That these men at the docks may feed their families by the jobs I help provide.”
Morlin smiled. “That is noble of you, Muldor. I understand what you mean. It is important for men like us to stand together in times of great strife. We can unite this city and quell this petty squabbling. Don’t you see? We can end this suffering, of all peoples! We can end this chaos that has plagued our city for so long.”