by Will Molinar
Muldor shook his head and found his focus. The Arc Lector was alternating between confrontational and coy. He recognized the ploy and now realized how dangerous the man before him was.
“This is what happened to Castellan. You planned on bringing him under your thumb, so you could take control of the city council, but your coup failed. All of it was orchestrated by you, though.”
The Arc Lector’s gaze held menace and amusement. “You presume much. Castellan du Sol was one of my flock, this is true. His actions were his own however. Do not assume they had any connection with this office. What proof have you?”
“I have Castellan. I have seen him at the asylum. Do you deny you placed him there? When last I saw him, that day when Janisberg’s Navy blasted apart much of the city, he was taken into your care. Do you deny this?”
Morlin’s eyes flashed with surprise, for only a moment, but then he smiled, nodded at Muldor. “Well done. I should not have underestimated you. Yes, Castellan needed further guidance, that of a professional, and thus I placed him with Warden Harris.”
“For what purpose? He committed many crimes, and should have been sent to Janisberg to face justice.”
“Where he would have received none. His punishment now is far worse than any he would have gotten by some foreign power, I assure you.”
Muldor nodded. “That I agree with. I can imagine no worse place, with the exception of the city orphanage, than Murder Haven Asylum.”
The Arc Lector’s eyes flashed, and Muldor grew wary.
“What did you say?”
Muldor said nothing but rather stood still, trying to regain his focus, wondering what he had said to trigger this response. Morlin looked like a volcano about to explode, and had Muldor been a weaker man, he might have fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness.
Morlin stayed still and spoke, his voice like thunder. “I will not have that phrase uttered in my presence! I have spent my time here attempting to erase this city’s reputation of depravity and violence, and you will not call it such when you speak with me. Do you understand?”
Muldor stared.
“Do you understand?”
Muldor gave a slight nod and bowed, feeling that his knees may give out. “I’m afraid I have taken up too much of your time, Arc Lector. Good day.” He stepped away to the door but felt the eyes of the man on his back, boring into him.
As the Guild Master left, he felt glad, even lucky, to have escaped unscathed.
* * * * *
Becket had no idea what they were doing or why, but he was too frightened by the prospect of doing nothing to question anything. The last few hours had shaken him. He thought he was accustomed to a certain level of violence, considering how long he had lived in Murder Haven, but with his house, his only source of salvation, his one true haven from the disease the city festered, with it threatened, there was nowhere else to turn.
This Zandor fellow was his only hope. They had lost some of their original group and there were now around eighteen other escapees. The rest had run off the instant it seemed safe. Becket did not blame them. It was natural to be wary of a helping hand, but he also believed there was safety in numbers so here he was.
Plus, there was no guarantee of safety inside the city. Things were breaking down again, just like before the riots started. The citizens were revolting, taken up arms against the ruling elite. It happened from time to time and seemed to becoming more frequent as years went on. Now there was a direct threat to the wealthy. Men had control of their homes, their entire neighborhood, and Becket was willing to do whatever it took to get it back.
Zandor appeared to know what he was doing, and though Becket did not trust him, there was no choice. He wanted money, but Becket was in no position to deny assistance. The man had skills and promised to find his own people, men that would help keep them all safe and perhaps try to win back the neighborhood. They were not far away.
Becket walked along the streets on the outskirts of the shipping yards, very close to the diminutive yet powerful man. They were near the Eastern Road and the tree line that hugged the wealthy quarter to its north eastern side.
“So what can your people do for us, Master Zandor?”
“It’s just Zandor. And I told you before. They will get you all safe enough. Plus, we can get your neighborhood back under control.”
“For a price, I assume.”
Zandor shrugged. “It’s what we do. For services rendered. That’s what happens most times, yeah? We can discuss that later, don’t you worry.”
Becket kept walking. Something didn’t feel right about the whole thing. It was too convenient for Zandor to show up all of the sudden, but it was impossible to conceive of someone having the full resources to pull something like this off. Plus, Becket had no other solution to the problem at hand.
He slowed down and pulled up short when he realized they were heading back towards the wealthy quarter. Zandor stopped and looked at him as the rest of the group stared and muttered.
“Zandor, listen, I think for safety’s sake we should go to the police station. It’s not far from here. There’s no need to put these people in harm’s way.”
Others agreed with him. Zandor surprised him by nodding.
“Sure thing, boss. If that’s how you wanna play it, fine. The offer still stands, though. My people can take care of things faster, you know.”
“Understood and appreciated. You are welcome to accompany us to the precinct to give a report. I’m sure they would appreciate whatever information you can impart.”
“Whatever you say.”
Becket took a moment to speak with the others of the plan. It was too dangerous to risk going back to their neighborhood, regardless of Zandor’s assurances. Everyone agreed. Sea Haven residents were suspicious of outsiders by nature and Becket was glad for once.
The man’s eyes were on the back of his neck as they walked, and Becket felt guilty not trusting him. But this town was not long for the gullible. More often than not, trusting someone got you killed. And Becket would rather be rude than dead.
Dawn was approaching, and Becket realized how tired he was. He wanted only to crawl into bed. The stark realization that it might not happen every again, that his home was gone forever, struck him.
The streets were beginning to come alive. There men and women walking with him were a ragged bunch. Crocker looked exhausted and older than ever. He was about to turn to dust. Even the genial Haller looked crestfallen and sullen. Dock Master Miller was an odd duck, walking with his head down and hands in front of his body. He kept sighing, fidgeting, and twiddling his thumbs as if the boredom drove him mad. Becket wondered what level of excitement it would have taken to stimulate the young man if kidnapping, violence, and the prospect of a city wide riot weren’t enough.
For a moment he had forgotten Lawson was gone, off to sea with the fleet. Becket was not sure if he would have preferred to change places with him or if being here dealing with the situation was better. Then there was Tanis Bolvin, the final link in their confederation of Dock Masters. There was no sign of him either.
Becket realized he missed Lawson’s young fiery energy and gutsy attitude. It was tiresome at times, but it would have done well here. He wondered how it was on ship, and Becket could think of worse things than being on board with all men, skuzzy as most of them were. There might’ve been a friend or two on such a long voyage, and he looked forward to when it was his time to represent the Guild on board Spirit Breaking. Anything was better than the current state of the city.
When they reached the area near the station, more people milled about than Becket expected. It looked like they were building something in front of the jail with crates and large stones.
There were dozens of the dark leather clad officers with thick boots and short swords. They shuffled stacks of heavy material in front of their building. They also wore helmets as well, something Becket had never seen them wear, and some also had bucklers on their arms. They l
ooked like they were prepared for war.
Becket felt better. They must have already known how bad it was in the wealthy quarter, and here they were getting ready to defend city. Maybe they were better trained than people said.
But something was wrong. It appeared as if the police were preparing for a siege, not gearing up for an assault. Becket held up his hands for everyone to stop, and the bedraggled group of displaced citizens halted behind him.
“Hold now, everyone. What… what are they doing here?”
Haller stood beside him. “They are building barricades. For what purpose I know not. Perhaps they are anticipating a siege of some sort? It seems strange.”
Becket shook his head, perplexed. “I don’t understand. Excuse me, where is Crocker? I don’t see him any longer.”
“Run off,” one of the others said. “Said he was tired, wanted to sleep in his office.”
Not a bad idea. Becket noticed several others were missing as well, gone off to taverns or Madam Dreary’s to sleep the night off, and he wondered why he didn’t do the same.
He faced the rest of them. “It might be best if we disperse for now. Go and find an inn to stay. I will try and find out what is transpiring here, and you can come to my office at the Western Docks for news when I have it.”
Most of them shrugged and filtered away, too tired to care. Haller and Miller stayed close by, as did Zandor. Becket felt glad for the support, but he waved them on. “Please, gentlemen, there is work to do. Master Miller, I want you to get some sleep, then be back at the southern piers as soon as possible; with Lawson gone, you’re it. And Lord Haller, I’m sure you would feel more comfortable being out of this business altogether.”
Miller stood still. “I will go.”
Haller stayed. “If you don’t mind, Master Becket, I will stick around and assist you in the investigation. I am rather curious as to how this will turn out. I do not sleep much these days anyway.” He smiled.
“Fine. Let’s go and see what this mess is.”
Zandor came along with them, and for the first time, Becket felt a sense of comradeship with the man. Maybe he was trying to help.
“If you two want some advice, I would use your authority to make them listen,” Zandor said. “Cops respect a chain of command, you know. This looks like a police strike, but if you push hard, I’m sure they will respect that.”
Becket heaved a sigh as they approached, not feeling confrontational. He lacked the energy to lift his feet, let alone act like a big boss and order around men that could kill him with swords if they wanted. They looked tough and ready to fight, not a good situation to face.
The police had loaded a full half circle of barricades around the front portion of the stone edifice. They must have raided the warehouses. They had taken some of the Guild’s things; boxes and crates and all other items large enough to build this thing.
The officers glanced over, glared even, as they approached. A dozen of them stopped what they were doing and folded their arms in front of their chests.
“Who is in charge here?” Becket said in his most authoritative voice. “I demand to speak with Captain Cubbins.”
One of them turned and whistled over their shoulder. There was a shuffling on the other side of the steel bonded door, and a moment later, the big athletic form of Lieutenant Dillon strode down the steps. Becket thought him very attractive, with dark blonde hair, which was very rare in their part of the world. He had a youthful, muscular build, much nicer than the taciturn Cubbins.
“Get the hell out of here,” Dillon said. “The lot of you! We’ve had our fill of threats. Any of you come near, and I’ll gut them. Shoo, now!”
Becket was taken aback. “Lieutenant, please understand we are here for your assistance. Why this vitriolic attack now?”
Dillon spat on the ground. “You’re all the same, you and your boss. Muldor, Cassius, all of you lying politicians. You all tried to fuck Captain Cubbins over, that won’t happen to me! Until we have our demands met, this city has no police force and that’s final.”
Becket’s mind spun. Fine, they had the City Watch to keep the peace in the city and handle day-to-day problems but what the wealthy quarter would be a problem. So then he had to convince Hark Williamson to go against the city charter and enter the quarter. It would be difficult because he had no leverage against the man, no reason for ordering him. “What are your demands?”
“Don’t play coy with me like Muldor does. You know we want the construction on the new jail to be completed. And more funding for additional officers and uniforms. And better equipment. We’ve been pushed around in this city for long enough. We’re tired of being unappreciated.”
Becket nodded. “I don’t blame you. Your plight is understandable. I wish to help you.”
Dillon cocked his head. “This is some trick. I don’t trust your words. You people, you are all silver-tongued devils. You say one thing, then do another. No more! We’re not fools.”
“Of course not, I only—”
“Young man,” Royce Haller said, stepping forward and adjusting his silk robes, “I am a member of the City Council, the governing body of Sea Haven, and you, in absence of your superior Captain Cubbins, are as well. Your behavior is unbecoming to a man in your position.”
Dillon exploded. “Get outta here! Shoo, both of you! Get out or I’ll have you lot thrown in a cell. Get!”
No matter what they said, Dillon and his men would not listen. When it seemed very probable he would make good on his promise to toss them behind bars, Becket decided it best that they leave. They walked back the way they had come, the exhausted Dock Master having no idea what to do.
He rubbed his temples. “I apologize, gentlemen, I am too fatigued to think clear. I am at a loss as to what our next move should be or what the solution to this quandary might be.”
“Nor I,” said Royce Haller. “Perhaps the best course is to wait. Let the brigands take what they want, and then they will leave us alone. I wager they may be gone already.”
Becket nodded. “They might be. Yes, that makes sense. What do you think, Zandor?”
“I think I need a drink. How ‘bout you two?”
Haller chuckled. “I cannot argue with this. Master Becket?”
Becket smiled for the first time in a long while. “I can’t think of a better way to start the day. Too bad The Prancing Pony may be off limits.”
Zandor slapped him on the back. “I know a place right down the road. I can contact my people there, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Becket nodded and went along with them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being swindled. But there was nothing he could have done. He needed to meet with Muldor or Lord Cassius to add some political weight to whatever decision they made to win back their homes. Of course, Muldor didn’t live there, but it was still his responsibility to assist.
They found a table at The Drunken Sailor, a tavern near the inlet that connected both the shipping yards and the Western Docks. Becket had only been to the place twice in all his years in the city.
Zandor left them at a large table near the hearth while he went to look for his “people.” The warmth from the fire made Becket tired, but the design of the building was interesting; being so close to the water meant there was an overhanging piece of wall near the side that was open to air and water. Mooring lines for small boats, nothing larger than twelve foot paddlers perhaps, tied to posts, and Becket saw two boats there, bobbing in the slight swell.
“What will you have, Master Becket?”
Becket blinked at the sleep eyed server, a young boy, and realized sitting made him even more tired.
“I think I need some strong tea. To clear my head.”
“Ain’t got tea, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Becket sighed. It was too early for alcohol, and he didn’t want to be more lethargic. But coffee made him jittery. “Make it coffee, then, if you have that. Strong and black, please.”
“Make that my order a
s well,” Haller said, and the boy ran off. “Not the drink I had in mind before but the right choice. Wine makes me sleepy.”
“Indeed. I wonder where our new friend has run off to.”
“I am sorry, what? Oh, yes. I do not know. Seems a capable right man.”
“I’m not sure we can trust him if you want my honest opinion.”
Haller smiled. “Honesty is always best. Could be you are right about this fellow. But what else can be done? If the police are not available, we must use whatever resources we can.” He sat forward, putting his elbows on the table. “But I wish to know what happened to the rest of the people they took prisoner. Where are the hostages, and what do these thugs want?”
“All good questions and I am not certain what the answers are. We need to get Lord Cassius involved if he isn’t already among the captured.”
“Quite right, yes. I hope none of them have been harmed.”
“I doubt they would be yet if money were the main goal with this. But I think there is more to it.”
Haller chuckled. “Well, if these brigands desire gold, they have chosen the wrong place in Haller Manor. I can assure you they will not get much from me.”
Their coffee came, and Becket could not suppress his surprise at the statement. He drank a large gulp and felt stimulated after a moment of two. It always worked very fast on his metabolism.
“Tell me, Lord Haller, for I assumed you were well paid for your position, why is it you have such little gold.”
Haller’s smile was pleasant enough but held a tint of irritation. “No, I am sorry but you have been misinformed. I am only a mere civil servant, and the title of Lord is an affectation for which I should not have, all things being equal. My salary is mediocre, which is ironic since I am master of coin for this city’s treasury.”